Winter

Matches Made in Hell

After convincing Liam that I had no more injuries, I'm finally dressed and sitting downstairs on the couch next to Kenny.  There is apparently something oh so important that we have to hear, instead of me finally going home so I can collapse in my own bed.  I also want a hug from my dad and some phish food ice cream, but I guess being attacked can't even warrant me that.

"Well...get on with it, then," I say monotonously with an obvious sigh.  "I want to go home."  I've been avoiding Harry's stare, though I can certainly feel it on me, because I can't believe that I let him see me so weak.  In fact, I'm surprised that he hasn't made any comments about me crying on him yet, or that I can't handle a bit of pain. I want to know that he's cold and icy and indifferent and that he didn't mean anything that he said or did in that bathroom.  I can't handle gentle Harry, the one that cares about me still; I have trained myself to know that he is gone for too long to turn back now.

"I–"

"Can–"

"Tell–"

Louis, Zayn, and Harry all start at the same time before looking at each other.  They then murmur a bit, and I turn to Kenny in annoyance, who looks back at me with an exasperated expression.  We both do not want to be here and it seems that the boys just want to draw out whatever is going on.  

"My bet is on ridiculous rules or house arrest," I whisper to her and she giggles, even though we both know that it's not really funny.  

"Mmm, I'd say school and straight back home, no walking or public transport, and absolutely, one hundred percent, no parties," she mutters back quietly with a dramatic waggle of her eyebrows that forces a laugh through my lips.  I slap a hand over my mouth and look back at Zayn, whose facial expression does not imply impressed.

"Are you girls done?" He asks flatly and I take the opportunity to whine to him.

"Well you were the one who was taking so long, and I just want to go homeeeeee," I drag out the e and take on an accusatory tone, something he has hated since I discovered the art of whining over ten years ago.

"Before you get to do anything, I need you tell us exactly what happened."

I think about refusing, but I know that he won't budge at this, so I clear my throat while I sort out my thoughts.  I am not going to mention the sexual assault, at least not right now, because I don't think I'm strong enough to handle the reaction at the moment.  I just really want to go home.

Kenny takes my hand and that gives me the strength to begin.  I start with realizing that he knew my last name in the uber, then how I got him to pull over and told Kenny to run, before he followed me into the alley and trapped me against the wall.  I tell them how I got him talking to stall and how he told me that Katava wants me so Zayn will give him territory in London.  I end it with my last escape attempt; that he knocked me to the ground and was about to carry me off, when I heard Louis and Kennedy calling for me. 

I tell them exactly what happened, sans the attempted rape, without thinking about any emotions, so that I wouldn't have another break down.  It's silent when I'm finished, and Kenny looks at me, biting her lip.  She leans in to hug me, and it probably looks like a comforting gesture to the boys, but I know what she wants to say.

"You have to tell them," she breathes into my ear before pulling back, a stern look in her eyes.  I shake my head as subtly as I can and she closes her eyes slowly. 

"Fuck," Zayn finally says and I turn to look at him, Louis, Niall, and Liam wearing similar expressions of guilt and rage.  "I'm so sorry, Zaya, god, this never should have happened to you.  I should have seen it coming, I should have–"