Escaped Criminal (Z.M.)

regrets

I allow my fingers to comb through my hair out of stress. I can't believe it happened. I can't believe I actually allowed Zayn see me in the nude, and the fact that he showered with me.

How am I not dreaming?

My mind was consumed by so many regrets, and I couldn't help it. I couldn't see straight. It was always one thought after another, clouding my mind with unnecessary thoughts.

I fiddle with my phone-turning it on and off every so often, checking whether I've received a text or not; I hadn't.

He was in my mind, and I wanted a distraction.

-

I feel my phone vibrate, indicating I got a new message. I frown to myself, noticing it's from a number that I don't have saved in my contacts. Who would it be?

Message from unknown number: Hey babe. Nude4nude? ❤️ xxx

I stare absentmindedly at my phones screen. They were probably some old guy texting random numbers, or maybe it was someone who simply had the wrong number ((but how the fuck do you get the wrong number?)). Either way, I don't know the person so I swipe left to delete the message. To be honest, I didn't really care who it was.

Unusually, I wasn't sure where Zayn was. He wasn't with me was all that I knew. For all I know, he's probably just sleeping or something-even though he's already slept-and I don't have to worry.

Don't worry. Why would you need to anyway?

I wonder if he regrets what happened before like I do. Maybe that's why he's not here. Maybe he's allowing both of us to have our own space.

Yeah, that sounds good. Just time to ourselves. I can manage that.

I unfold my legs and walk towards the kitchen. Looking through one of the cabinets, I find a glass. I then get cold water out of the fridge and pour it into the glass.

Water is a wondrous metaphor. For instance, you see it right in front of you; right in front of your very eyes. You figure out ways to capture it, whether it be with your hands or a cup. As hard as you tried, you would never truly capture it. You may have it for one second, or perhaps several, but it was near-to-impossible to truly gain possession over it. It could easily slip out of your grasp, and can leave you at any second.

Metaphorically, Zayn was water. Like water, you could not truly 'capture' him. You may have him one minute, but he could leave you within the click of a finger. Just. Like. That. You could not simply capture him with your bare hands; he would slip away so easily. You can only manipulate his actions by taking him and trapping him for some amount of time, but no amount of time was sufficient. Eventually, the water would escape from the cup some way or another and it would be gone.

Just like Zayn.

I shake the thought away, taking the glass covered with condensation into my hand. I take a sip of the cool drink, feeling the cold and crisp liquid rush down my dry throat and into my stomach region.

I realised I must be dehydrated. I've forgotten how to look after myself due to lots of things, and this is the result. I'll end up growing up with bad skin and health issues. I know that should worry me, but I didn't really care right now to be honest.

When I turn around to put the water back in the fridge, I notice a peculiar yellow sticky note on the door of my fridge. I almost drop the damn jug of water, but luckily I've got the moves like Jagger.
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