Escaped Criminal (Z.M.)

pursuit

Sleeping was near to impossible whilst a certain person stuck in my mind. Zayn. I couldn't stop thinking about the boy who could have killed me, but didn't.

I laid in bed for hours before I eventually drifted off to sleep. My mind was everywhere. I thought of how he touched me, and how I didn't want him to stop. How even though he almost killed me, I wanted his presence. I wanted to feel Zayn sleep beside me and I want my body intertwined with his.

-

I turn on the television with a mug of tea in my hand, the warmth embracing me. I flick through every channel, finding morning to watch until I stop. It was him.

"Wanted: Zayn Malik. If anyone has any knowledge of his whereabouts, please contact the number below." The news reporter spoke.

I almost choke on the tea as I see a photo of Zayn on the television. Zayn Malik. So that was his name.

"Zayn," I sigh aloud to myself. I couldn't help but wonder where he was right now.

They haven't caught him. I don't know whether to feel relieved or worried or annoyed. I mean, I should feel annoyed by the fact that he hasn't been caught, but I feel relieved because I don't want them to take him away from me.

He's not yours. Get over him. He would have killed you if he had the opportunity.

I shake the thought out of my head. No.

Where would he have gone? How does anyone even manage to escape the law in the first place, anyway? I would most likely last five minutes before I bump into a policeman.

He's manipulative, my conscience tells me. He can get his way as long as there are people to manipulate and do his will.

I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to believe that Zayn could be using people for his own sake, nor did I want to believe that Zayn has probably tried to seduce other women other than myself.

That's when I hear knocking at my door. "Police, open up!" A voice shouts and I slowly walk to the door.

Surely they're going to ask me about whether I've sighted Zayn Malik or not. That's why I need to act inconspicuous. They can't know that I saw him, let alone spoke to him. As twisted as it may be, I want him safe.

"Hello," I greet the police officers in a calm and collected voice as I open the front door for them.

One of them-a blonde-haired guy with navigator shades-let's a German Shepard off it's leash to roam my house, searching for any sign that a criminal would have been in here.

"Is he with you?" Another of the officers asks. It's another male officer. He has dark skin and wears a blue cap covering most his hair. He's wearing a dark shade of sunglasses which covers half his face.

"And by 'he' you mean?" I try act as oblivious as possible.

Why're you helping him? My inner voice questions me.

Because he spared my life, and for that, I am grateful. I owe him this for not killing me.

"Cut the crap," the officer warns me. "Zayn Malik. He was sighted in this area. Did you see him? Is he with you?"

I shake my head. "I have not seen him, nor is he here. Check my house if you insist."

I step out the doorway, allowing the police to search my house. If Zayn was smart enough, he would make sure to leave as little evidence as possible. Surely he understands that.

To be completely honest, I felt completely uncomfortable by the fact that the police are searching my house as if I've got a secret drug lab or something. This is my house and this is a complete invasion of my privacy. Nevertheless, I allow them to continue their search knowing they won't find him. I knew that if I objected, they would jump to the conclusion that I am hiding something.