Addicted z.m

Chapter 20

I banged on the door frantically before Perrie opened it. Her eyes were red and glossy. The desperation I had heard on the phone earlier was plain as day on her face now.

"Where is he?" I asked.

To answer my question, a traumatic cry was sounded from the bedroom. "Come in," Perrie stepped aside to let me in. I couldn't hide the worry I felt. I had chewed my nails to stubs on the way here.

"He won't calm down. He doesn't want to talk to me. The only person he wants to see is you. Every time I enter the room, he looks up in hope that it's you then starts crying again. . . He won't stop crying. . ."

I couldn't find words to console her. I was too busy preparing myself for the broken Zayn I was soon to witness. I followed her to the bedroom.

Zayn paced back and forth before the bed, tears streaming down his face. It was obvious he was so deeply lost in wherever his untreated mind held him captive to notice our entrance.

Perrie gestured for me to enter. "He gave up on talking to me ten minutes ago."

I gave her an empathetic smile before taking a deep breath and stepping into the room. His bedroom seemed to have its own atmosphere. I didn't like it. It was almost suffocating.

I cleared my throat. "Z-Zayn. . ."

"She's gone," he mumbled to himself. "It's all my fault."

"Zayn, we've talked about this, it's not your fault," I consoled.

"She'd still be alive if it weren't for me," he sobbed. "I'm going mad!" he gripped his hair. "I can hear her voice. Stop speaking in her voice! Stop taunting me!"

His pacing seemed to quicken with anxiety. His breathing caught up with his fast moving feet.

"Zayn, I think you should sit down," I took a step closer.

He held onto his hair tighter. "Shut up! Get out of my head!"

"Zayn, please, just sit-"

His pacing paused as he bent over and screamed as if he were in agonising pain. I couldn't take it anymore - seeing him like this. His scream turned to sobs, his hands still in his hair when I finally made my way to him.

"She's dead." he sobbed to himself. "Spencer's dead, and it's all my fault."

I could feel the blood drain from my face when he spoke my name.

"Zayn, I'm right here. Look at me."

He didn't obey. Instead, he fell to his knees, hands covering his ears. "Spencer!" he wailed. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Stop haunting me!"

I got down on my knees in front of him, placing my hands on either side of his face. "Zayn, please," I begged. "I'm not dead. I'm right here, baby. Just look at me. Please, look at me."

He sniffled and his breaths were audible and staggered. But his head slowly lifted as his eyes met mine. "Spencer," he whispered.

"I'm right here, Zayn," I promised.

"I'm dreaming," he spoke. "It's Marisole all over again."

"Zayn-"

"I'm sorry," he cut me off, his eyes filling with pain and loss and regret again. "I should've done more. I should've been there to protect you. I should've- I should've just stayed away! None of this would've ever happened! You didn't deserve this. You don't! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry."

His hands reached out to stroke my face. I grabbed onto them, doing all that I could to hold this crying man closer to me. I knew there was nothing I could say to get him to believe I was alive, that he wasn't dreaming.