My Beautiful King

Chapter Eighteen

"Damn Ashley!" he hissed.  My vision was now clear and I could see that his structured face was awash with vexation, his hazel-green eyes giving me that hard piercing stare they always did. "I thought you said you could swim!"

And with that, he walked off into the distance, leaving me shaking violently on the grass, feeling smaller than I had ever felt before.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Zayn?

I lay curled up in the fetal position for what felt like years. My throat burned from the vomiting and excessive crying. The grass pressed into my bare body, leaving deep red grooves on my skin.

Zayn?

I used the back of my wrists to wipe the black mascara smears that framed my eyes. The ends of my hair dripped water droplets onto my shoulders, causing me to break out into another bout of shivers.

"Zayn?" I croaked. My voice echoed so awkwardly in the silence of the dawn. I hoped that he'd reply, appear from behind a tree, and apologise for being so bitter. I hoped that he'd lie down on top of me and kiss me softly, his lips uttering sweet nothings in between each of the osculation. I hoped that he'd tell me that he loved me and that we should get ready to pack our bags and leave for tomorrow.

But something told me that he wasn't going to return.

Coming to grips with my isolation, I stood up slowly, knees weak and shaking. The blood still managed to rush to my head despite my steady arise and I doubled over, spewing more salty liquid over the ground. Shivering and sniffling, I practically had to drag myself up the slope where we had dumped all of our possessions.

Zayn's clothes were gone, as expected. My top and jeans lay crumpled on the grass, but with no hoodie to accompany it. Zayn's hoodie had somehow managed to disappear.

Could someone have stolen it? I contemplated as I rubbed my sore head. No. It was only me and Zayn that were stupid enough to bask at the lake at such an early time in the morning. And if I didn't take it... Then he must have.

Why would he take it with him? He'd given the hoodie to me a couple weeks back and said that I could keep it because I was his girlfriend and he loved me. Now there he was, taking it back without even letting me know.

Sometimes, I really did not understand my high maintenance boyfriend.

I had no towel so it seemed like I would have to get dressed while I was still drenched. I slipped my underwear onto my wet body as I remembered that not long ago, Zayn had been so eager to remove it. It felt wrong to be getting dressed on my own, alone by a lake at nine in the morning.

Fully dressed, I wrung my hair out over the grass in an attempt to stop the irritating drips that splashed onto my upper body. All the possessions that I had stored in Zayn's hoodie pocket were now scattered on the grass. I knelt to the floor to pick it all up and cram it into my jeans' pocket. Taking a sharp inhale, I got back to my feet and gripped my spleen in pain. I felt so hopeless... And lonely. I needed Zayn. I sent him a quick message.

Where'd you go off to, sugar? You scared me earlier, call me xxx

And with that, I set off home.

-x-x-x-x-

It was hard not to notice all the judgemental stares I received while I sat on the bus. I couldn't blame them... Who wouldn't judge a fifteen year old girl sitting on her own, wearing damp clothes in the middle of winter, sporting dripping wet hair and a combo of dried mascara and tears on her distressed face?

I'd stop and stare.

I craved my pack of Marlboros. I'd left a box in the pocket of Zayn's hoodie but he didn't seem to have dumped them in the park with the rest of my crap. So there I was, soaking wet on a bus, catching a cold, needing nicotine hit and gaining none.