My Beautiful King

Chapter Nineteen

Run away day.

I'd woken up at ten in the morning to get ready to leave. I packed my handbag, which was a replica of Hayley's, with all the things that I would need; toothbrush, toothpaste, £350 and a couple packets of Skittles and biscuits. The plan was to travel with that and the sports bag of clothes that Hayley had kindly given me. It made a change to pack my large gaudy designer handbag with such practical things rather than the school utensils I usually carried. Not that I carried much school utensils anymore; my bag was mainly filled with make-up, cigarettes and food.

Zayn still hadn't replied to any of my twenty-seven texts.

My parents were still asleep, curled up in their beds, probably thinking about how messed up their perfect only child had grown up to be.

Was I messed up? Maybe. I don't know.

Hey Zayn, I know we arranged to meet at 12 but we didn't arrange where we should meet up before we leave to go to Bradford. I'm just gonna wait in my house until you text back, yeah? Xx

How do you say goodbye to somewhere you've lived and loved your whole life? It was hard to come to grips with the fact that I was never coming back; that I was trading in my three-bedroomed house to become a nomad in my boyfriend's hometown.

I walked around my bedroom, unsure of how to give my farewell. Everything was like it had been when I was eight; pink walls, fluffy white carpet, Disney bed covers, dusted and polished furniture. Except that now there were scribbles on the walls and engravings on my desk; little scribbles that proclaimed my love for Zayn, friendship for Hayley and loathing for my mum. I'll miss my bedroom.

Zayn, please reply back!! Are you mad at me? If so, then I'm really sorry, just message me back, please xxxx

I stopped outside my parents' room and ran my finger down their painted door. Maybe it would do them some good if I went away; they could concentrate on their relationship rather than having to worry about me. Yeah. I wasn't just doing this for me... I was doing it for them too. God, I'll miss my parents.

Honestly Zayn, I'm starting to think you're dead haha xx

I lingered by the mirror that hung in our upstairs hallway. I fixed my fringe and fumbled with my heavily straightened hair. It was hard getting used to being brunette, especially when so much of my hair had been cut off. From waist length to shoulder length... It felt like a huge weight had been taken off. The foundation I was using made me look so tan... It was great. I batted my mascara coated eyelashes and pouted in the mirror slightly. I looked good. I looked better than I'd ever had in all my fifteen years. Hayley had been right about the make-up.

But running away to Bradford would mean that I'd have to leave her. That was one of the worst things. Sure, Zayn had already introduced me to his Bradford friends via Facebook and BBM, but I'd never actually met them face to face. Hayley had been my best friend since... Since, well, Bridget. I felt a sudden bubbling of guilt build up in my stomach.

Bridget.

Oh, Bridget.

I didn't mean that I thought you dying was funny, I'm just worried 'cause you haven't replied back xxxxx

I lugged my two bags downstairs. It was approaching 12:30 and I still hadn't received any contact from Zayn. Maybe his phone was off? Maybe he hadn't woken up yet?

I could hear my parents stirring in their beds, waking up. Shit, they weren't supposed to hear me leaving! I was planning on sending them a letter telling them that I wasn't coming back after I'd been in Bradford for about a week.

I legged it out the front of the house, closed the door and began to run as fast as I could while still hauling the two heavy bags. So much for a long detailed goodbye.

Zayn, I've left my house, it's like 1 o'clock now. I've been waiting for you to reply... Are you waiting for me? Xx

I leant against a brick wall nearby a corner of shops. I had quite a reputation these days, so no one bothered with me. I was Ash; I was a "hard bad man" with an even worse boyfriend. But no one could ever sense how insecure I was feeling on the inside.

It was now 1:35 and I was starting to feel truly sick of waiting for Zayn. I speed-dialed "1" and waited for the sound of a classic phone ring to fill my ears. The phone rang three times before the word "Disconnected" came up on the screen. What the fuck? Had I accidentally hung up? I called again but didn't even hear half a ring before the same twelve letter word showed up.

Zayn was dismissing my calls.

And that meant that he'd probably been ignoring my texts for the past two days as well.

I felt my bottom lip tremble and eyes burn. There was a sickening churn deep in my stomach, as I picked up my bags from the gravel and began to trek home, fury in my steps.

It didn't look like we were running away to Bradford today.

Was it all because I couldn't swim? If so, then I'd take a lesson in a single one of my palpitating heartbeats. I couldn't lose Zayn. I was so dependent on him.

I stopped outside my house door. With no keys, it looked as if I was going to have to press the doorbell. But that meant that one of my parents would have to open the door to see me crawling back after a failed attempt of escape. I felt so ashamed.

Wasting no time, I crept round the back of my house and jumped through the always-open window, banging my knee on the kitchen worktop.

"Shit!" I exclaimed, voice cracking. "Shit, shit, shit..."

"Ashley?" My dad's voice called, anxiously. "You there?"

My body suddenly came alive with anger, and I gripped both my bags and stormed up the stairs to my room. "Yes, I'm fucking here!" I screamed. "Unfortunately!"

I burst into my room and threw my luggage onto the floor. "Looks like I'm back, you stupid fuck of a room!" I joked. "Thought I'd had the last of you but no; here I am!"

I could feel the tears brimming in my eyes. God, I cried so damn much. I snatched my phone and typed in another message.

I don't know what the fuck you're playing at but we need to talk tomorrow, kay? Xxx

Feeling tedious, I sent another desperate text.

I'm not mad or anything, we just need to talk. Love you xxx

I couldn't give Zayn a reason to get pissed off at me.

Kneeling on the floor, I tipped out the toothbrush, toothpaste, £350 and a couple packets of Skittles and biscuits from my designer bag onto the carpet. Feeling ever hopeless, I began to pack it with all my equipment for school.

School. No Bradford, no crazy shit, no drinking, smoking or anything that sounded cool. Just another day at William Morrison.