(Still needs a title. help me?) ONE DIRECTION FANFIC

The girl you couldn't remember, and the boy who wouldn't forget

Chapter 1

The Past

Mullingar Ireland…It has always been a home to me. It's where I was born and raised. Sadly, there wasn't really a point where I was truly happy at home.
The sound of the bell brings me back to reality. Finally English portion of class was over but now it was time for lunch, oh joy. The halls of school were like torture. This may be Ireland, but somehow I stood as the shortest person in our 5th grade class. Dad always said I'll grow…I shouldn't get my hopes up. Once entering the lunchroom, my feet forced myself by habit to an empty table in the corner.
So that's me, Katherine the loner. Making friends wasn't exactly my forte. A sigh came out as the box lunch went to the table. None of the food served here was vegetarian friendly. Meat everywhere!! This explained why Dad always packed my lunches. Mom couldn't cook or bake, let alone use a toaster. Being alone didn't really bug me; I actually kind of enjoyed it.
"HEY KAT!" someone called out. A small hatred went through me, a little part inside hated being called that. Only Mom and Dad could get away with it. "HEY KAT!" they yelled again. With a roll of the eyes I turned around when suddenly a piece of pizza slapped me on the chest. Seriously dude, you could at least take off the pepperoni, I thought peeling it off. A boy started snickering so my eyes looked around searching for the culprit. When I found him, my eyes couldn't believe it. With one quick movement my body turned to autopilot, grabbing my bag and making a quick escape through the door.
There was no more air in me once I had stopped running. Why did it have to be him??? I should have realized it by the sound of his laugh…..he had a nice laugh. I couldn't believe how bad I freaked. It must have been the deep blue of his eyes, his dark brown hair or the little crook in his teeth. UGH! His eyes were my favorite; you could easily get lost in those ocean blue orbs.
There was only a couple hours of school left so I decided to skip the rest of the day. I wouldn't dare go back to class and be humiliated again. The walk home isn't that far anyway. The weather was perfect for a walk. This town sometimes seemed like the worst place but I guess you get used to it. I skipped down the sidewalk. My dark black hair bounced up and down in its ponytail. If only I was older, then no one would pick on me anymore and maybe I would actually make friends.
After about 15 minutes of walking I finally reached the house. This town was way too small to get lost. The door to the house was unlocked so I stepped in shutting the door behind me. “Mom? Dad?” There was yelling coming from the kitchen. They were always fighting so I snuck up and put an ear against the door straining to hear. A voice yelled, "-AND WHY HAVEN'T YOU LEFT BY NOW THEN?!? YOU'VE WANTED TO LEAVE SINCE THE VERY BEGINNING!!" that was mom yelling. "OF COURSE I'VE WANTED TO LEAVE!" that was dad, "WHAT GUY WANTS TO START RAISING A KID AT 18 YEARS OLD?!? THE ONLY REASON I'VE STAYED WAS BECAUSE SHE NEEDED A DAD BUT I CAN'T PUT UP WITH YOUR BULL ANYMORE!" I backed away from the door not wanting to listen anymore, they've never fought this bad before. I was scared so much my feet sprinted up the stairs up to my room. I slammed the door and went under the bed to hide. This couldn't be happening, this couldn't be happening, this couldn't be happening……
Time has passed, I'm sure of that. How much though? It’s quiet now; maybe they had finally stopped fighting and made up. My little legs struggle from me shaking as I go down the stairs. A woman is sitting at the bottom step; her face is buried in her hands as she leans forward. “Mom?” I ask. She sniffles and looks up at me with her red eyes. "Since when did you get home?" she asks with disgust in her voice. She’s a mess and she knows it. Blonde hair sticking up messy, face red. My voice is weak but I manage out, "Got home a while ago," "Well, what are you staring at?" she continues, "go do your homework or something."
I nod and slowly and make my way back to my room. I wouldn't dare ask about dad or that would make her more upset at me. But I really wanted to know where my daddy went. The rest of the day and night, I stayed in my room hiding under the bed. You could hear mom downstairs. She was really angry and breaking lots of things so I knew not to come out.
The next day mom was locked up in her bathroom all day. Anyone could hear her crying through the door. I asked over and over where dad was but she wouldn't answer. Instead she would hit her fist against the door telling me to go away. I should have been at school but she didn't say anything about it. Days past and all we ever did was stay home doing nothing. After about a week, mom is packing all of our belongings into boxes and bags. "Stop it! What are you doing?!" I exclaimed attempting to push her out of my room. I was so small back then so she easily overpowered me.
"We're moving, so don't complain!" she yelled, "we need to get out of this place. I can't stand it!" "But mom-," I cried out then a sudden stinging came upon my face. My hand went up to my nose and cheek at where she slapped me. Tears began building up but I kept them back. Dad had always told me not to cry in front of others; he told me to only cry when you’re alone.
"Daddy…" I murmured. "Forget about him," she said putting the boxes in a pile as I sat in a corner composing myself. We spent the next week cleaning the house. We ended up leaving most items behind. Mom called the school and I was at least glad I didn't have to go back there. But what about him? Mr blue eyes at school? I won't get to see him again. I won't get to see his blue eyes, brown hair or even hear his laugh one more time. I shook my head getting these thoughts out. I'm barely in the 5th grade, I shouldn't be thinking like this. And anyway, he was a jerk, but a nice, sensitive, cute jerk.
We finished packing within a few days. Mom was putting the boxes in the car before we left. I checked the rooms making sure we didn’t forget anything. I passed by the bathroom mirror and looked at myself. The bruise had turned yellow and was beginning to fade. During those few days of packing in silence, my birthday had passed. I turned 11 but obviously we didn't celebrate. I think mom forgot…..

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