Side.

Side. - Chapter 15

Zayn’s POV.

I mentally slapped myself for forgetting to bring a drink to the kitchen. I wrapped my lips around the brown part of my cigarette and took one last breath, before dipping the end in the ashtray on the kitchen counter. The turbid smoke slowly left my mouth as I parted my lips further from each other, giving the smoke enough space to escape. I closed my eyes to enjoy the feeling of smoke going through my lungs and the nicotine going through my blood. In a few seconds I remined myself to go down to the cellar to get some beer. I’d spend the night in my own, but I honestly didn’t really mind. It was Thursday night and I was exhausted actually, from the previous nights filled with parties and hanging out with friends all night long. I wasn’t really a type of person who liked to be alone, but now I really didn’t mind. 

I left the kitchen to make my way to the hall, opening the small door to walk down the small, narrow stairs to the cellar. A smell of alcohol, beer, wine, liquor and more filled my nostrils. There was a large shelf filled with bottles. Bottles with alcohol and empty bottles. I didn’t really bother to clean it up down there. It was messy, dusty and dark. The light had broken a long while ago, but I didn’t feel like buying a new one, I knew where everything was any way, so why bother spending money on a fucking lamp. 

I slowly made my way to the shelf at the other side of the dusty, cramped room, deciding what drink to take. When I almost reached the shelf, I tripped over something which I didn’t remember from that it laid there. I didn’t remember something being on the ground over there. I cursed out loud when I fortunately managed to stay on my feet. I shoved my hand in the backpocket of my jeans to take my phone out of it. I unlocked the screen and turned the device so I could see what caused me tripping. 

A broom. It was the same broom the girl used when she tried to defend herself from me, Kimberly. 

I was sure that I placed that broom somewhere else, anyway not there on the ground or anywhere near. 

Kimberly.

It all started when I came living in this neighbourhood. My whole life I lived on the other side of the country, together with my parents and sisters. My life was good, great actually. Until one day. 

My whole family and I were out for dinner to celebrate my parents’ anniversary. We had a good time all night until one of my friends texted me, asking me if I could come to go to a party. Dinner had ended and we were just talking since it was 10 already. I asked my dad if I was allowed to go to my friends’ place, I didn’t tell him about the party because I was afraid that he’d said no. Fortunately, yet unexpected, he agreed and I left after saying goodbye to my family. 

When I arrived at Chris’ place, he immediately took me in the car and we drove to somewhere. I asked if he knew the person who was throwing a party, but he said he didn’t. I didn’t really mind though, I had never been at a houseparty before, I actually looked forward to it. I was a nice guy, totally the opposite of what I am now. I didn’t have any tattoos, I went to school, got good grades, had ‘normal’ friends, I didn’t fight, I didn’t smoke, I was a good guy. 

The night at the party was great and I got drunk for the first time without even realizing how much and what I was drinking while taking a sip of each liquor. I never expected that something like that would happen to me, but it happened though. I remember a guy accidently throwing a small amount of beer over me, and then I lost it, I still don’t know how, probably the alcohol running through my veins. I let my own cup fall and pushed the innoncent guy against the wall, immediately beating everywhere I could, my first fight, and I wasn’t proud of it.

After that fight, I only started fighting more, sometimes even against my own will. Even though I wanted my behaviour to stop, I kept going to parties, got drunk, and got into fights. More and more. It went slowly actually, but once the more fights had started, it became a lot. My mom and dad were really disappointed and didn’t understand how their good-raised son had changed into a fighting monster. My mom was afraid that she didn’t take care of me well enough, which wasn’t true, she’s an amazing mom.