TAINTED | Zayn Malik

Chapter 11|Day Out

I limped after him in a fast pace, trying to keep up as much as my body would let me. I  blatantly ignored the screaming aches, knowing I should've been resting. The proof of events from last night was not holding back, letting me fully aware that I was in a fucked up situation. I felt like every aching part was a reminder, you're here because of a tempted mind.

If I was a bit more levelheaded and actually careful with my actions, it wouldn't have made this choice for me. I was meant to keep this mantra in my head, a while ago when I was living in my mother's house, she would always leave inspiration notes around to keep me from being tempted.

For a while they were working, at least that was what I was trying to tell myself to process happen a lot smoother. Nothing is worse than telling yourself what's working when you know it isn't, but you continue doing it anyway. So annoying. So fake.

I felt like telling him that I just rather be trapped in the room, I didn't wanna bother seeing the light just yet. Especially interacting with people, it was the worse after a night full of regret. Uh, I had no choice since I lost my privileges for a while. I was his captive, I said I wasn't a prisoner but that didn't mean I was a free girl. I'm guessing this was part of my punishment, maybe he was aware.

I was still under his watchful eyes, in his mind I was with someone he didn't like and that made me the enemy. Who knew what else he was thinking that made him not trust me, but as much as I said it last night. I felt understanding, and that's when I realized how fucked up I was...

I cried for a lousy ten seconds then shrugged it off, therapists will have a field day with this one. I could just see the notes they jot down on paper, probably among the lines of 'Pyscho' and just plain ole 'this bitch is nuts'

He led me down a flight of stairs, his shoes echoing the halls. As much furniture that was placed, a ounce of emptiness still remained. I couldn't help but to wonder what that meant to him exactly, but maybe that was just the writer in me looking for something to find out why he was the way he is...

But I didn't even know, I was judging off the short conversations. I just couldn't help but to notice how he went from 'I want you there' to 'Why did I save you again?' So quick, I may be naive but I wasn't stupid.

We entered a large white garage filled with rows of cars, none that seemed normal like a sane fucking person would drive, he grabbed keys off a hook filled with thousands of them and that's when I noticed the ATV's and few motorcycles in the corner. I could tell most of them were custom, it wasn't something that could be sold, they sketches of really explicit graffiti and most were red or yellow. The abstract of the machinery seemed so different from the house itself, as if driving was the only remarkable thing in his life.

He walked around and entering a car, I limped after him and getting in passenger side. I sat, slamming the door shut and buckling myself in the car. It was quiet for a second, I could feel him looking at me and probably feeling odd that he now has a puppy following after him. Eh, join the club buddy cause apparently you're not the only one.