Criminal VS. Criminal || мαℓιк

37. Finally Captured

37. Finally Captured

WARNING: SRS BSNS (Serious Business)

   "Max, Max. . ." I heard someone whisper. I felt myself slipping back into reality. My eyelids felt heavy, as if something were weighing them down. My chest felt tight, as if there was a rope around me. And my lips felt dry as sand paper. After a moment, I managed to open my eyes. I looked around, taking in my surroundings. My eyes widened as I realized where we were.

   We were in my old house's basement. 

   My eyes flickered over to the person chanting my name. Once I spotted him, Zayn's eyes flooded with relief. How the hell was he relieved? We were in a murderer's house! Technically my house, but I'm a good person right now. And good people don't murder people. Anyway, how did we end up here? The last thing I remember was passing out after seeing an ugly face. 

   "Zayn?" I whispered, looking down at my body. I was in the same pair of basketball shorts and T-shirt I was wearing when we left my apartment. My hair was falling out of its ponytail. My wrists were tied behind my back. And my ankles were knotted together. I was sitting on a chair. At least it's not penis-shaped.

   "Max, are you okay?" Zayn whispers, trying to move towards me in his own chair. I shake my head, feeling my chest tighten even more. Once Zayn is close enough to me, he inspects my face. And that's when I notice the tears streaming down my face. "Max, shh. Keep quiet. It's alright. I'll get us out of here," Zayn soothes. I nod, gasping for breath.

   "Well, well, well."

   My breath gets caught in my throat as I hear the familiar chuckle bounce around the room. I squeeze my eyes shut, my breath coming out shaky. I hear the heavy footsteps walking around me. And I know, I just know, he's examining my face. He always did it before you left, my brain informs me.

   "I was expecting you to be better than this, Max," Dad says, grasping the bottom of my chin with his clammy hands. I gasp, forcing my eyes open to look at him. Dad stares back at me with hazel eyes. The same ones I have. It's been a year and a half since I've last seen him. His eyes are colder and have a bit of pain in them.

   "What do you want from me?" I breathe out, trying to keep eye contact with him. Dad chuckles, pushing away from me. I can hear Zayn's heavy breathing from behind us. I sniffle, trying to make myself look strong.

   "I got a call from a dealer in Cheshire. He said you dropped by for some weed. True or false?" He shoots, staring me right in the eye. I look away, finding interest in the floor. Shit, shit, shit. My whole brain screams. He knows me well. He'll know when I lie. Better safe than sorry.

   "True," I whisper.

   "So, instead of coming to me for some things, you went to an enemy housing?" Dad spits, narrowing his eyes at me. He takes a deep breath, cooling off. His attention turns to the boy beside me. "And you, Malik," He growls, strutting over to Zayn. "You're some big hot shot now, aren't you?" Dad says. "I've seen news reports on the twenty-one year old millionaire everywhere."

   "Is that a problem?" Zayn asks, full of sass. His arm and my arm are touching. I feel his muscles tense under his sweater sleeves. "What's it to you, Mr. Chase? Upset that the last part of family left you? Or the fact she doesn't even like you?" Zayn's voice rises, the vein in his neck prominent. "You chased her away!"

   And that's all it takes for Dad to snap. He hands makes contact with Zayn's precious face. I gasp, feeling tears roll down my cheeks. Zayn turns his head back to face him, his check red and most likely bruising. I bite my lip.