Legendary // H.S

38.

'We close our eyes

Learn our pain'

*

Zayn and Babz like colour. Lots of it. Littering the walls of their house are bright and vibrant paintings, splashes of colour and beauty. So many different types, too. Some are abstract, others portraits, a few even landscapes. It's such a juxtaposition from the exterior of their home, which seemed modern, but traditional. The neighbourhood they live in I've been told is Woodford Green, situated in one of the outer-boroughs of London with a close proximity to the Eastern part of the city. I gather that most residents in the area are families, all on the wealthier side considering the size of the properties, and none of them look like the two inhabitants of this house. They stand out in more ways than one, but something about seeing them in this domesticated realm is comforting.

They hurried me in when we arrived, Zayn noticing the small cuts across my face and arm the minute the door opened. He spent about five minutes checking over every part of my being, making sure nothing worse was done, even though I assured him I was fine. If anything, the adrenaline is still pumping through my veins. Probably the only thing that's stopped me from having a meltdown at this point.

I could still feel the shape of the gun in my hand, how the cool metal and plastic felt against my smooth palms as I aimed for the men chasing us. I remember the exact way my body shook at the impact, my limbs still aching slightly. Even the subtle scent of the gunpowder as it ignited before sending a bullet into the man's neck. It's stuck on me, superglued and impossible to remove.

Harry has noticed my silence, keeping his eyes on me as I timidly moved through the house, taking my time to analyse my surroundings. He doesn't push me, just allows me to take the time I need to calm myself and understand what's happened. I appreciate it far more than I could ever say. I'm not really sure how I'm supposed to feel yet. I know that any normal person would be terrified, convinced they're a monster, and part of me is, but there's another nagging voice in the back of my brain that counteracts that. I'm trying my best to quiet it.

Zayn and Babz have asked us a lot of questions, but I haven't been able to answer much yet, just letting Harry take the lead. When he told them what I did they looked pleased, proud. It made me feel something I'm too scared to admit. I like praise, but how much am I allowed to accept when it's to do with something so dangerous?

'The fuckers ruined my car!' Harry yells, peering out the window in the living room to get another look of his vehicle on the driveway. Zayn moved his car to the street so Harry could keep his guarded by the shrubbery and bushes outside the front door. Anyone could break in and hotwire it given the lack of windows. 'Do you know how much that's going to cost?'

Babz laughs at this, walking round and handing me a glass of water that I graciously accept. When the cold liquid pours down my throat it feels like I'm finally allowed to breath again, waking me up from my dream a little more. 'Poor Harry having to actually pay for something,' she teases. It even brings a small smile to my lips, but it drops as soon as it arrives. It feels wrong to smile.

Harry flips his middle finger at her, before focusing back on me again. I've been silently watching their interactions for the past 15 minutes or so. 'Do you guys have a first aid kit?' he asks, looking over my cuts once more.

They nod, Babz stepping out the room to get it, leaving me alone with the two men. Zayn walks over to me, handing me a cigarette. I lean forward into his hands when he pulls the lighter out, appreciating the feeling of the smoke as it fills my lungs. I never used to smoke as much as I do now, but these days there always seems to be a cigarette in my hand. Especially when I'm around Zayn; he always supplies them. I think he can tell when I need calming down.