Malik - Z.M (Book 1, Malik Series)

14.

I was losing my mind.

The food that had continued to come wasn't touched. I had no energy in me to get off the bed and grab it.

Whenever I attempt too, it didn't look as appetising. I knew this place inside and out.

Even though I'm in complete darkness, I know where the bathroom is, I know where the exit is, and I know where the bedroom is.

When the door opens, I plan on finding out who this person is that keeps dumping the food tray on top of the stacks of food trays that I refuse to touch.

The glass from the lamp shade was still there along with the girl that was determined to get out of here.

I'm broken. I'm no longer able to have that same fighting spirit to get out of here.

I lay down on the bed and close my eyes briefly before burying my face into the thin duvet.

My sanity is long gone.

I want to know why I'm here! I want to see Zayn so I know the truth.

I just need someone with me so I can feel sane again.

I need comfort.

I need to leave.

I sniff quietly to myself until I hear the door unlock.

Pushing the blanket off me, I quickly make my way to the door, tip toeing over the glass and wait till it opens.

The door opens and the food tray drops and that's when I grab this strange arm.

The voice squeals as they pullback but I grab it with both arms.

It's a female!

My eyes start to water as the glass begins to dig into my feet. I try to fight the pain, but it's too much and I let go immediately.

The door shuts abruptly and I begin to cry again.

"Let me out! Please!" I beg. "Please!" I bang on the door this time as my pride shatters.

I don't want to be alone anymore.

-

Waking up to a new day or night, I had realised something.

One, I was no longer on the bathroom. I had fallen asleep there, too afraid of seeing Zayn when I attempted to grab the person who always delivered the food tray.

Two, my feet weren't sore, but covered in bandages.

Three, the smell of food from the food trays had disappeared.

And four, I think I have my period

I sit up slowly, my tear stained cheeks causing strands of hair to get stuck to my face.

I half expected Zayn to be in here, but he wasn't.

I carefully crawl out of bed and feel my way to the bathroom.

Leading myself blind, my hands skin across the tiled wall until I feel the shower wall and I climb inside.

I turn the faucet on and close my eyes as the cold water shocks my system, the water streams down my body when it comes to a bearable temperature.

I wash myself with just water. Since coming here, my hair has become so oily. It doesn't feel as nice as it did before.

If I close my eyes and hum to myself, sometimes I feel like I'm back home.

If I can just imagine that I'm not stuck in this darkness, I'll be fine.

I hum a lullaby that my father use to sing to me when he put me to bed.