Story of My Life (Adopted by One Direction)

                                    

                                          
**EDITED 8-14-17
                          
Hi, everyone! I just want to thank everyone who survived through this bullshit of a story that I wrote nearly three years ago! The story finally hit one million reads, and I couldn't be more thankful. I have you wonderful lovelies to thank for making this amazing milestone happen. I just want you to know from the bottom of my heart that I love you because you have made my dream a reality. I haven't been writing as much recently, but this spectacular support from all of you has sparked a bit of creativity back within me so hopefully you will see some new work of mine soon. Enjoy reading excuse the bullshit writing because....like...wow...I WAS 13 OKAY?! I was such a carrot...
                          
disclaimer! I wrote this, like I said, when I was 13. I was a bad writer then, not to say that 13 year olds are bad writers, I just happened to be. So bear with me, it's kind of rough at the beginning but I do grow better through out the story I promise!! ALLLLSSSSOOOO, I was a carrot. The beginning mostly is a carrot-ish type fanfic but along with the bad writing, I grow out of it. It gets better, I promise. ALSO I KNOW NIALL IS IRISH. LET'S ALL MOVE PAST THAT YES?????
                          
NOW LET'S GET ON WITH THE STORY. ENOUGH BULLSHIT, BELLA!
                          
love you all!
                          
~Bella~****
                          
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No texting and driving. That is what my dad always told me. Of course I wouldn't have been able to drive at the time anyway. "You can crash and get seriously injured," he always told me.
                          
"But you always text and drive," I would say confused. He was such a hypocrite.
                          
"I have been driving for a long time," he says like that justifies it, but it doesn't. My mom got in a car crash when I was eight. She was talking on the phone and wasn't paying attention. She hit the curb, and the car flipped. I was in the car, and it was a miracle I survived. Her death caused me to stop talking for three months. I don't know why it did though. I was so upset because she was practically my best friend. We did everything together.
                          
After my mother died, my father became an alcoholic and abused me. It was horrible. The only reason I started talking again was because my old best friend got me to. Soon after she ditched me for the cheer squad.
                          
Three years after my mother died and my father started to abuse me, my father got in a car accident. He was texting, of course. Even though he abused me, I still loved him. He only abused me when he was drunk. It was hard for me to love him even when he hurt me.
                          
When my father crashed, I was in the car with him. Our car flipped over. When my mother had died, my father started to get involved with the wrong group of people. He managed to avoid jail even though he did drugs and worked with drug dealers. After the car crashed, a man approached our car and shot my father. He was dressed in black and had a ski mask on. The man gave me a gold tooth grin and shot me. What the man didn't know is that he hit me in the shoulder. The police soon found us and rushed me to the hospital. I lost over half my blood, but it was another miracle that I survived.
                          
I had no other family members so I went to the orphanage. I have been at the orphanage for three years. No one wants a teenager and that is why I have been here for so long. Fourteen year olds who talk to no one aren't the ideal child. I haven't spoken a word to anyone since the day of my father's accident. It's not that I can't talk, it's just that I don't want to.
                          
"Alexandra," Isabella says from the door. I look up, "you have some visitors."
                          
Five older boys walk in the room. They look familiar, but I can't put my finger on who they actually are. They are all at least eighteen if not older. I cross my arms over my stomach. "Hello, love," the one with the brown curly hair.