I drove down the unfamiliar street. Sadly , I could barely decipher the smeared words on the paper. I was trying my best to use process of elimination , I did see 138 . So I new that was the actual number of the persons residency but I couldn't find a street address . The first few of letters were p , i & n. That could be anything.
I most certainly will see Zayn tomorrow. So I'll just get it from him when I go into work. It may seem as if I'm not working with a sence of urgency , but I'm trying. Nothing like this has ever happened to me. No person in there right mind would think a situation like this could ever happen. And plus , I'm not saying this situation isn't horrific but , I've experienced some pretty messed up things in my life.
I've watched my mother let drugs rot her day by day till the day she died in my young arms. I've listened to my father scream toxic words like "you're gonna be just like her. you're gonna be nothing , just like her. You're nothing but a crack baby. your mum should've swallowed you." So the things most people are phased by , it only bothers me in the slightest .
Like what are the odds . I've befriended a boy in a market , invited him to my home and he turns up at the home of the man I work for being mistreated and abused. On top of that , he's pregnant for heavens sake.
I know that I'm putting myself at risks by associating with this non-sense. I could easily find a new place of work and act as if I didn't know of Zayns existence . That'd be on less stressful and risky aspect of my life.
But ... I feel obligated to help him. What if it were Michelle? What if it were me? One thing I'm not capable of is sitting back , letting something bad happen that I could possibly prevent.
So this is why I'm in this current situation driving in the fog , trying my best to make out the words on the dampened paper. "Pinewood street" this caught my eye as soon as I was about to pass the street. I turned sharply causing the car to screech .
Strangely there was no 138 but there was a 136. I pulled to the side of the house contemplating if I should ring the door bell.
I finally did , a tall women looking as if she were in her fourties answered the door. I studied her for a minute until she spoke .
"Can I help you dear?"
"I -I'm sorry wrong house." I said rushing off. That couldn't be it. A man would've answered the door. Zayns man.
As I got into the car her image played back in my head. She looked just like Zayn! I opened the car door again and ran up the dark drive way. I rung the doorbell again.
This time a blonde headed man opened the door.
"Yes darling ?"
"Do you know of a Zayn ?" I asked , his eyes opened wide and he gasped. "Y-yes. I do." he nearly shouted.
"Is this his hand writing?" I asked showing him the wet paper.
"Oh my god. Chris. Trish. come out of your room! She knows something about Zayn!"
"He's at this location. Mr- I mean josh has him , in the country about 40 minute away from here in a mansion locked away. The place is guarded so it would be best if you got the police involved. Here's the adress. If you are to make it inside his room is at the second floor on the first hallway at the end." I spoke fast and wrote down the adress on a sticky note. I tuned on my heels and he called for me but I ran as fast as I could to my car and sped off.
My breath was heavy as I drove back to my home. For some strange reason I started to cry. Not for me but ... For him.
I started to cry for Zayn. I hope he is saved with all of my soul I hope he is saved.
