Fighting Against All Odds (A Zayn Malik Fanfiction) [ON HOLD]

Chapter Eight - Shock

The next morning, I wake up to shouting. Worse than shouting, VERY loud shouting. Lets call it fighting otherwise. But the sound coming from downstairs is so loud that it can be mistaken for a war. My head's pounding like my heart, and a massive headache starts. Damn. I get out of bed and open the curtains. Its pitch dark outside, beautiful shades of purple and blue. Zayn's curtain is closed, and my heart sinks. I check the time. 5:36 PM. Why the hell were they fighting at this time? I'm used to these fights, but its never been so violent and loud, or this early in the morning. In my shorts and oversized shirt, fighting against the cold, I go downstairs. It looks like a war zone. There are utensils everywhere, pictures frames broken, spilt coffee that no one's bother to clean, and the beautiful vase that Dad gifted Mum on their anniversary broken into a million pieces. My heart keeps sinking as I watch my parents, obvious of their failed marriage, fighting in the middle of all this. Mom is holding a rolling pin, and is in her dressing gown, while Dad is in his office clothes, but untidy.

Unaware of my presence, Mom shouts at Dad, "Mujhe pata nahi, I want a Divorce!"

(I don't know, I want a Divorce!)

Have things gone that bad to go till a divorce? Tears form in my eyes as I shout, "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?"

They turn towards me and I can see through blurred eyes that Mom has a bleeding lip and a black eye. Dad is perfectly fine, maybe a slap mark on his tanned cheek.

"HAVE THINGS GONE THAT BAD?! WHY ARE YOU FIGHTING?! HUH?"

'Go away, beta,' Mom whispers.

Dad looks at me, angry as if I'm crazy when in reality, he is, for giving Mom a black eye and a bleeding lip. He says, "GET LOST, B*TCH", and my body turns hotter, burning with anger. My Mom's eyes burn with anger and she slaps him again, but Dad pulls her hair, and grips it. You could actually see his arm veins. Ouch.

My father has never scolded me in my 16 years of existence, let alone swear. It shocking actually. My feet turn and take me to my room, my father not even bothering to come after me. But before I leave, I shout "I hate you".

I don't even regret it.

*

Once I'm in my room, I lock my door and close the curtains. There's only one person who will help me through this. Only he can understand. Zayn.

I don't even bother to slip on jeans but I pack a small bag. I have a feeling that I won't return here soon. I open the secret door and climb down. The fight still hasn't ended. I close the door and make my way down. I climb up again , a different passage this time. I open the door, thankfully which was unlocked, and enter Zayn's room. Its dark, curtains closed. His room is decorated now, with Graffiti on the walls, superhero posters and action figures. He has a collection of books which he's drawn in, and he is VERY good at it. He's flopped in the middle of his bed, shirtless.

I smile cause the last time I was here, something special happened. I felt belonged. And that's why I'm here again now.

I sit near him, and slowly shake him. His eyes flutter open and he looks at me, shocked.

'Myra,' He asks, sitting upright, 'You okay?'

I shake my head, and to my shock, the tears fall down like Niagara falls.

'Myra, hey,' He asks, wiping my tears, 'What's wrong?'

'My parents fought so badly this morning, just 10 minutes back, and my dad punched my mom that she has a black eye and blood from her lip. She was helpless. He called me a...a,'

'A what?' he asks, seriously. His eyes are filled with concern, and anger.

'B*tch.'

He turns angry and punches the mattress. He swears under his breath, and mutters, 'I swear, Myra, he will pay for this. I swear he-'