Remember

Chapter 1

I lifted up the tray filled with plates of steaming food in the both of my hands. I slowly walked towards the booth at the back of the loud, noisy restaurant.

I have been working here for quite some time, since I needed the money for my college classes. It only helped a little bit though, it only made me tired and lost of energy by the end of the day.

"Finally! I've been waiting for too long!"

The man, about 40 years or older, sitting in the booth slammed his hand on the table. He reeked of alcohol. I grabbed the plates and sat it down. I pushed the length of brown hair that had crept into my face behind my ear.

I turned to walk away, with the tray in my left hand. A huge, strong hand stopped me. It tightened on my wrist as I tried to pull away.

"Why don't you sit on my lap, babe?"

He pulled me towards him. I tried to pull my arm away from his grasp, but his force was way too stronger than mine.

"I've been waiting on my food for so long, don't you think I deserve special service?"

He tightened his hold.

"You're hurting me."

I tried to pull even harder but it tightened more, shooting pain up my arm.

"Aw, come on baby."

He pulled me closer, his breath stinching up towards my face. He grabbed the tray in my other hand and threw it to the ground, making a loud sound as it hit the floor.

Seconds later a voice shouted from inside the kitchen.

"What's going on?"

Zayn's head popped out from the door. His eyes widened, seeing me uncomfortably being held by the man. His face tensed as he dropped the empty tray in his hand, running towards us.

"Get your fucking hand off of her!"

Zayn climbed into the booth and pushed the man by his shoulders into the wall. The man lost his grip on my wrist. I brought it up to my chest, rubbing the area where it hurt the most.

"Are you alright?" Zayn turned his head towards me. I nodded.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Zayn held the man up on the wall. He was furious. The man laughed at him.

"She's a cutie."

The man grinned. He was obviously drunk at the highest.

"Hey, what're you doing Zayn?"

A familiar voice shouted from across the restaurant.

"Shit."

Zayn dropped his hands off of the man. He quickly backed out of the booth. He looked at my wrist intensely.

"What happened?" The manager stared at the tray that layed on the floor, food scattered all over the table, and the old drunk man that rested his head on the table.

Zayn cleared his throat, his eyes still staring at my wrist. I watched as the manager tried to wake up the sleeping customer.

"Another drunkie?"

The manager asked us. I breathed heavily, glad the manager understood the situation.

"Yes, sir." Zayn replied.

"You guys go ahead and take off work. It's late anyway, I'll take care of him." The manager shooed us away. He tried to wake the man up. The man groaned and shifted his head to the other side, still sleeping.