Interlinked

Chapter 34

Dedicated to IdRatherReadAbook because it's her birthday :)

Please do understand that everything happens for a reason.

And I don't think this chapter will please you, but I think it is best if I divide my chapters instead of making them longer. 

Chapter 34

         Well then, I whisper to myself the minute after I twisted the doorknob in my grip and swayed the door open to reveal his bedroom. It seems like it’s been forever since the last time I’ve been here and it sure does seem this way for I’ve noticed a couple of portraits here and there – all piled up in the room.

  After closing the door slowly, while keeping my eyes fixed on the pictures, I erase the space between me and one of the pictures before my eyes skim it carefully, and my heart basins deeper between my veins, my cells, between the bones that constructed my body.

  Half a face drawn in charcoal, smudged on the sides as they make faint rays of ashes around the face. One eye, drawn as its lids are semi closed as the stare fixes on something that could be seen from the picture’s dimension for it could be a lake, a green field, a cement floor. Half the mouth is shown, parted and with a little pout while the hair drapes carefully on the side before it smears and blurs on the sides. 

   Half of that face is me, and I do not know what to do anymore but to wander to the other picture in the room and once again pause in my position. Another half, for another side this time, a neck and a collarbone – both drawn impeccably, almost as if he took a copy from me and placed it on a paper and drawn with a pencil. With my eyes squint, I look at the little blurred charcoal that smears off under and around the collarbone before it fades away when it gets closer to the neck.

“He drew me,” I whisper and I’m startled when I hear the door swaying wide open before I turn around to see Zayn, with his wet hair covering his forehead and his toned arms are only exposed since his white tank top and grey tack pants cover his entire lean physique.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he pants as I remain quite speechless and silent before I nod quickly. “Are you?” He asks but stops talking when his eyes scan where my body is and what I’m trying to hide. “Oh,” he whispers.

  “Yeah, these are good.” I awkwardly say, pointing my thumb in the pictures’ direction.

“Why are you here?” His tone shifts directly to show disturbance and I promptly purse my lips together and lock my hands nervously.

  “Because,” the nugget in the back of my throat is swelling rapidly, “I don’t want you to think that I left for no reason.”

  “If your explanation will be immature, stupid, or out of its place then I suggest you’d save your breath,” he hisses and honestly, having a thousand knives stabbing my heart straight through my chest would have been much easier than to hear those words roll out of his mouth.

  Who knew words can actually hurt more than actions?

“You’re right,” I nudge my head, the air is becoming bitter for me to inhale. “I shouldn’t be here. This was all stupid, like you said.” I heavily breathe out; the tears on my eyes are blinding my sight and blurring my vision.

  Placing my hand on my forehead, I start walking pass him and pause when the door is now a shoulder-length away from me. My heart is on the edge of falling apart and my hand is shivering violently now when my skin touches the cold brass doorknob of Zayn’s bedroom before I twist it, open the door and hurl down the stairs.

  A thump, and another mixes with my heart as my shoes shuffle on the mahogany floors of this broad house upon allowing self-humiliation and embarrassment to overwhelm me and over power me per beat.