Touch

51

Though my wrists are still cuffed behind my back, I get up and stumble toward the door.

Blood drips from my thumb, spilling onto the rug and making me queasy. I position my back against the door and try to turn the handle, but it won't budge.

My heart bounds up into my throat. Did he padlock the door from the outside? I look behind me, noticing a lock. I flip it open, hear a click, and reach for the handle once more.

This time it moves beneath my grip, only I'm not the one turning it. The door flies open, and Harry stands before me. "Going somewhere?" he asks.

I let out a scream, as loud as I can manage, in spite of my dry and splintery throat. Harry pushes me, and I fall on my backside.

I glance behind me to see if I can somehow reach the knife, but it's too far away. Harry starts to shut the door, but before he can, I jam my heel into his shin, as hard as I kicked the wall.

He lets out a grunt and comes at me. Teeth clenched, he grabs me by the jaw. "I'm sorry," I whisper, trying my best to soften my face. Harry's breathing is labored.

His chest heaves in and out, but after a few seconds he softens, too. A cool breeze filters in through the door, which is still open a crack. It's daylight outside.

He takes a moment to look around, following the trail of blood to the knife by the wall. " I'm impressed," he says, moving to reach for it.

At the same moment I draw up my leg and kick him in the gut. Harry lets out a wail and stumbles back. His head knocks against the wall. I get up and hurry through the door.

Outside in the woods now, I see that I'm in the middle of a campsite. There are trailers scattered around, but it looks as though they've all been closed up for the season.

I run as fast as I can, maneuvering through the undergrowth with my shoulders and legs. I can hear Harry somewhere behind me. "Run all you want!" he shouts. "You'll never find your way out of here, not before I find you."

I scurry down a narrow path, hoping it eventually leads to the street. Panting now, I see a dark blue trailer in the distance with a car parked outside it.

At the same moment, a long, pointed branch scratches at my face, drawing blood. I can feel my skin open up.

I hobble forward, the cramping sensation in my leg returning. Finally, I get to the trailer.

The car parked beside it is abandoned. It has no wheels, the grill is crushed, and there appear to be bullet holes in the side. It reminds me of my work-in-progress at the studio.

I crouch down behind it and try to catch my breath. After a few seconds, I venture to look out. Harry's nowhere in sight, and I can no longer hear him. My legs shaking, I manage to stand up again.

I turn around to continue on toward the street. But Harry s standing right in front of me.

He smacks me across the face with the back of his hand, a stinging, biting pain, and then grabs my shoulders, shoves me again, and points the tip of the knife into my neck.

I try to bite his hand, but he jabs the knife deeper, until my teeth unclench. He starts to drag me away.

My legs flailing, I try to anchor myself, to kick his shins, but he still manages to bring me to the front of the blue trailer.

And that's where we find Zayn.

He lunges at Harry, tearing me from his grip. I feel myself fall to the ground. Harry comes at Zayn with the knife, but Zayn is able to grab Harry s wrist, twist his arm back, and grab the knife right out of his hand. He throws it deep into the forest.

Harry barrels into him, but Zayn pushes him away, and punches him in the jaw. Harry lets out a groan and stumbles back, but still he rebounds. He comes at him again.

Zayn punches him once more, this time in the gut. Harry goes reeling backward, tripping over a rock. He lands on his back, hard, against a cluster of rocks.

Finally, he passes out. Police sirens sound in the distance. "Are you okay?" Zayn asks, making his way over to me. His expression is a mix of fear and fatigue. I nod, and he grabs my forearm to help me up. Only he doesn't let go.

"Thank you," I whisper, on my feet now.

"You're welcome," he says. His lips curl into a slight smile, relieved maybe by what he's sensing, or what he's not sensing, more likely.

Maybe the danger is finally over.

· · ·

Zayn Malik

~ Malum