Truly, Madly Deeply

'I hate you Harry Styles...'

2 years after finishing school and being tormented by Harry Styles, Ellie Laker finally gets accepted into a presigious performing arts academy in London. This was everything she had ever wanted, but she knows that it is probably too good to last...


1. Hate


'I hate you Harry Styles.'

My head was pounding, I could feel my cheeks flushing in anger as my locker door hung open, and red paint sat all over my favourite hoodie and my laptop. I looked down the corridor to see Harry and a couple of his mates sniggering and pointing at me. Students were standing around and laughing at the girl who had made a complete fool of herself. I looked down to see that the red paint had splattered on my history essay which was supposed to be handed in the following day.

'No no no no no...' I whispered to myself. I took the paper out of the pile, but it was already dripping with paint, and the only words just readable being by Ellie Laker. I crumpled up the hand written paper and threw it on the floor in complete frustration and stormed up to Harry and his friends.

'Why did you do that?!' I yelled at his sniggering, annoyingly happy face.

'Well...' he sniggers, 'You know, just for fun. I like it when you're angry. When you're angry your face seems to show more acne than usual and your stomach just seems to bulge out just that bit more.' All his friends burst out laughing at this remark and my face burned brighter than i even thought possible.

'Oh, and by the way, if I were you, I would buy another hoodie, but seeing as though you may not have enough to afford one, here's some change. I reckon you could get a bargain down at that favourite charity store of yours.' My blue eyes meet his green ones, which were full of amusement and my face scrunched up in anger as I chucked the $2 coin Harry had given me back at him. I pushed Harry against the wall and ran away, Harry and his friend's laughter still echoing in my ears.

I kept running. I think i ran about 5km before I stopped to catch my breath. Even just running 5km had already started to relax all the anger that Harry Styled had brought up in me. I hate him. I hate him. If I could chuck one person off the tallest building in the world it would be him. I hate him. The angry thoughts kept whirling around in my head as I took my grey, now red, hoodie off, revealing the oversized tshirt I had on underneath.

I ran all the way home, and mum being at work I walked into my room and shut the door behind me. I took out my paint splattered laptop, and thanked the heavens that it still worked. As I was waiting for it to load, my eyes fell on an old yearbook I had from primary school under a pile of sheet music. I picked it up and the book fell open to a page with a person on it I was far from wanting to see. Those green eyes and dimples flashed up at me from the page and I closed the book angrily.

 One more year... I thought. Only one more year I have to survive with that boy and then I will be done forever. I shoved the yearbook out of sight and picked up my pen and started to rewrite the history essay, but my thoughts were elsewhere.

Harry Styles made my life a living hell, and I hated him for it.

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