Escaped Criminal (Z.M.)

cruel world

((The photo of the chapter was taken my meeee this year at the Adelaide One Direction concert in February so please don't steal it!!! Thanks bye ily))

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We pull into a park-Zayn kills the engine. I open the door of my car and hop out. The cool air causes goosebumps to rise upon my arms and legs. I shiver, rubbing my arms up and down in an attempt to try warm myself up.

The cool, crisp air inhales through my nostrils as I breath. As I exhaled, a sort of foggy mist came out.

I walk around the corner of my car and to the boot where I notice Zayn unpacking some things from the car. Slung over his shoulder is a rug, and in one of his muscular arms is a picnic basket which must be crazy heavy, by the looks of it but that didn't seem to faze him.

It was honestly an unusual time of the year for two people to be going on a picnic, being winter and all, but who cares. Who's to say that picnics must be in summer or spring? We're gonna go all anti-conformists because why not!

Walking towards a grassy area, Zayn lays down the rug and the picnic basket onto the grass, patting the spot beside him on the rug. I smile, sitting where he indicated for me to sit.

His arm snakes around my body, pulling me into his chest. I fall back, falling onto his chest. Maybe that was his aim. I don't know. But it was cute nevertheless.

I stare at our surroundings; looking at the trees; the lake; the sky; everything. Everything was so serene. It was relaxing, peaceful and refreshing in a way.

"It's so beautiful," I whisper, averting my gaze to Zayn.

His face was like a sculpture. It was so perfect, so defined. There was no longer any stubble, but I could imagine it scattered across his face. The way his lips pulled up at the corners to smile or the way his eyes changed colour was so intriguing. I was drawn into his beauty. Everything about him was so interesting and I couldn't help but wish I knew more about him.

"Just like you," Zayn replies, stroking my cheek.

I feel my cheeks flush as I smile. "Thank you."

I find my hand moving to drape around his neck which I hold loosely. I grin cheekily as if I had just done something I wasn't meant to do, even though he told me that he wishes I did it more often.

His body was like diamonds. The muscles of his body were strong and firm, yet the skin was smooth, but at the edges sharp; defined. He was attractive, something every girl wanted. He was the ideal boyfriend that so many girls wanted.

When I was with him, it wasn't possible to believe that he killed any amount of people. He didn't seem like one of those people at all in my eyes.

"What's your mum like?" I ask him out of the blue, wanting to know more about him and possibly his family. He has never mentioned his family. Not even once in the time that I have known him.

It was something I was interested in. Knowing him more, that's what I wanted. Zayn was far from an open book, so there were some things that you just had to push for to earn your answer.

He clenches his jaw and I can notice the tension. "She's dead." I gasp at his words. I guess that I really didn't know what to expect, but that was a surprise. I wasn't sure what to think. "She died when I was seventeen."

I try imagine a seventeen year old Zayn standing, watching a woman that would have been his mother die right in front of his very own eyes. A motherly figure that's erased out of his life forever.

"How?" I squeak. I wasn't sure whether it was appropriate to ask or not, but figured that perhaps it is considering he just told me that his mother died when he was seventeen. Maybe I can get a backstory or something.