Quietus [Zustin]

-5-

|Chapter FIVE- Rotted Core

            Calming, the sound of lake water swayed together running along the rocky shore. The birds chirped vocalizing distress amongst each other. Warm autumn breeze blowing fiery crisp leaves in through the open balcony doors-settling onto the wooden floor.

Gasping for breaths, Zayn awoke with a start the muscles protesting while his body shook-knuckles white clutching the black bed sheets. Chest heaving, heart racing, eyes roaming slightly unfocused as he took in the surroundings-pinching himself.

"I'm awake" Zayn muttered, letting out a relieved sigh when the familiar bedroom came into view-his bedroom-he was home. Safe.

Somehow he had managed to get home in one piece last night but it all seemed like a blur-a horrid nightmare waiting to attack him.

'How did I get home?'

'Who dressed me?'

Standing up he winced, the soreness on his shoulder and between the thighs was a slow burning ache.

'What happened last night?'

"Was I drugged?" he thought out loud.

The wind blew harder, balcony doors creaked fire-colored leaves scattered on his bedroom room floor. Zayn stiffened, afraid of why didn't he remember anything, walking into his bathroom the ravenette hissed at the pain.

Although it wouldn't be the first time he's gotten drunk and slept with a random guy, his insides felt different like he was burning.

Wrecked

Palms flat, placing the slender hands on the cool counter of his vanity, the right hand was sore the skin blistered and scabbed over as if I'd been healing for days. Zayn squinted, pulling out brown locks of hair that were tangled between the tan fingers.

"Whose hair is this?"

Grunting, Zayn reached over the counter trying to find his Neosporin before catching sight of his reflection.

Zayn gagged at his appearance, he looked dead the skin pale, eyes dulled and swollen, the inky locks of hair were greasy. Licking his cracked lips Zayn inspected the skin of his neck something bright red was hidden by the white shirt. Pulling the white shirt down Zayn was startled at mark on the skin of the collarbone-he screamed.

"I got a fucking tattoo" placing a hand over his mouth, his eyes watered at the crimson symbol marring the skin.

"...and it's a fucking stupid shit tattoo." yelling at the reflection of himself-crying in anger, shame, and frustration.

Opening his mouth, readying himself to scream his heart out, his stomach growled-churning and protesting at the lack of food.

"Feels like I haven't eaten in weeks" he whispered to no one in particular, waddling down the old wooden stairs. Zayn took slow strides into the kitchen, scrunching his nose at the rancid moldy smell.

Rinsing off a red apple he bit into it glancing out of the small kitchen window-the lake water was calm, cerulean-the sun warmed his face. Biting into the apple Zayn was repulsed by the bitter taste of decay. Gagging, he retched the apple into the white sink-watching as thick black liquid feel into the drain in chunks.

Glancing at the apple, Zayn was disgusted by the sight the center of the apple was black almost gooey-while thick black liquid oozed from the center and onto his wrist. Throwing the apple into the sink Zayn rinsed his mouth.

Hazel eyes watered as he took in the fruits sitting on the counter-they were all black, flies buzzed by his head. Opening the fridge the milk sat curdled on the top shelf, in fact all the food in the fridge seemed expired. Grabbing a large trash back Zayn began to begrudgingly throw out all his food muttering to himself.