The Damaged Truth

Hidden

Nothing in the story is true. I hope it never is. Enjoy. Please vote and favorite.

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ZAYN'S POV

1:48. 1:48. 1:48. That's the time my clock reads. I can't fall asleep. My thoughts wander through my mind. They always crawl back at night. Here I am alone in my bed. It's cold even though I'm cuddled up in these soft blankets. I have been off this whole week. Everyone wonders why and where I disappear to when we have time off, including the boys. I have this little house away from everyone. Perrie doesn't even know about "my special place". I know I shouldn't be thinking this. Last time I was here, I broke. I broke down completely. I hear a ring. The ringing get louder. I can't hear. The voices I drowned, now scream. My hands won't stop shaking. My face is wet from the tears escaping my eyes. I close them hard to end this urge, this horror. I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know how to stop. I'm confused. The urge in my wrist grows. My veins burn. I trace my fingers over the old scars. No one noticed before, especially with my tattoos. No one would notice now. Just one small cut. One little small cut. The blade is right here. I dig the blade slowly into my wrist and drag it. No one cares about me. I drag it again deeper. It's not like I'm important. I go day by day with these fresh cuts and scars, but they are invisible. I am invisible. The blood slowly seeps. It flows over my old scars. I don't feel relief. I need more. I take the blade, pressing it deeply into my vein, so deep the blood puddles where the sharp blade makes contact with my skin. The sting from the air surfaces. I hear the quiet, it's all I have now.