Austin POV

I knocked on the door of the Dawson residence.

Ally had been a little... off, today. She hadn't really looked at me, and kept glancing down at her phone every three seconds.

She had left right after we had closed down the Music Factory, without a word to anyone.

Mr. Dawson answered the door.

"Ally hasn't come out of her room all night, Austin. I don't know what's wrong with her." he said.

"I'll talk to her." I told him, as I entered.

I walked up the steps and knocked on Ally's door.

"You have a key, Austin." Came Ally's weak reply.

I unlocked her bedroom door and walked in.

Ally's hair was up in a messy pony, and she was wearing my blue sweatshirt, which was way to big on her, black leggings, and bright pink fuzzy socks. Her mascara was running, and her nose and eyes were rimmed with red.

He noticed her phone was lighting up every three seconds with new text alerts.

At the sight of me, tears began flowing freely from her eyes.

I walked over and settled down on the bed, wrapping one arm around her.

"What's wrong, babe?" I asked.

"You- you those cheerleader girls from school. The ones that wear to much make-up?" she asked shakily.

I nodded.

"Well, they surrounded me at my locker. They- they said I was ugly, stupid, a horrible musician, said I was fat, and that soon enough you would realize it and leave me... and they said... they said..."

"Come on, Ally. What else did they say?" I asked.

"Slut," she whispered, "They called me a slut."

She began to sob, and it broke my heart seeing her like this.

She turned and hit her face in my gray sweatshirt, crying hard.

"Baby, you are the most innocent, most beautiful, most talented girl I have ever met in my entire life. Your smart, amazing, and I will never, ever leave you. I promise. I love you Ally. You know that, and that will never change."

She looked up at me, and I gently placed my lips on hers.

After our small little kiss, she layed her head on my shoulder and I rubbed circles on her lower back until fell asleep.

I sighed, kicked off my shoes, and closed my eyes, silently praying Mr. Dawson wouldn't kill me in the morning.