faded

38.0 - sore

My sleep is dark, dreamless.

I wake up at around 6pm, or so the clock says, to a very cold room. It seems as if the crunched snow outside clings to the wall and threatens to pounce on me, too. I wouldn't mind. My body feels as though I've been trapped in an oven for hours.

At first I don't know where I am and I'm reminded when I try to move. My body refuses. My brain is disconnected from it and it's functioning on it's own. Luckily, he's not laying next to me. I notice the water, the pills on the table where the clock rests, and the rest of the pain begins to hit me.

I'm suffering from an odd type of motion sickness that has come from lack of movement. My head feels like a bomb about to go off any minute now, not caring about the casualties.

The last thing on my mind is escaping. It's ridiculous and maybe it shows how much of a coward I am, but I don't want Zayn to hurt Harry or anyone else. How could I ever apologize or even try to if something happened to his family because of me? I hadn't been up for more than twenty minutes and I knew that I was going to die here. If Zayn claimed to love me and hurt me this way, I couldn't imagine what he'd do to someone he hated.

I didn't hear the door open. I just lay there with hot tears streaming down my cheeks, crying quietly as if not to disturb Zayn in fear that he'd become angry.

"You're awake," I hear him say.

I don't look at him. I can't and I don't want to.

I hear a bit of movement until the bed dips and he comes into view, his anxious expression surprises me.

"You should take the pain killers."

"No, thanks," I reply, not able to control my voice from breaking, "I'm okay."

He sighs. "I know you're not. I know you."

I close my eyes. "Not anymore. I don't think you ever truly did."

"What's that supposed to mean?" His tone isn't angry but instead melancholic.

Well, what could it mean? Mixed in with my attention seeking, self destructive ways, maybe all I wanted was someone to love me. Just maybe all I needed was for someone to show me what I was naturally never taught. Was that difficult to understand? Or did that dream get lost after hours of crying, one sided rough sex, and manipulation?

"I thought you'd love me," I say quietly, "thought you'd take care of me. How stupid of me to think that you were gonna be the right guy."

His hand hovers over mine but he makes no contact. "I can still be that person, Ana, I swear I can."

I don't answer.

"I love you, still, I can't get you out of my head. I know I fucked up and I'm sorry."

"But until when will I hear your shitty apologies? You're gonna go too far and kill me, then who will you apologize to?"

"I just want us to be like we were. I want you back so badly, i'd do anything."

It's clear he doesn't care about what I have to say. My words aren't important enough because they hold no weight in comparison to his own desires.

I just want to go home.

"You'd hurt other people to get to me, Zayn."

"But I won't," he takes my hot hand in his cold one. "I'll leave it all in the past if you come with me willingly. I won't hurt Harry or Amy or anyone."

"You and I both know that's not true."

"If I was lying I wouldn't have let Harry leave Germany. But I did."

My heart sinks. "You d-did?"

"Yes," Zayn replies, "I did it for you. Give me a chance, please?"