Forget Me Not

Chapter 1

Chapter One

One

He pumped his legs faster, working to throw the demon off his back.

Two

His breathing became shallower and vision became blurry; every step he took was its own mission yet he didn't let up.

Three

He felt the bile rise from his mouth.

Four.

He couldn't stop now not when sweet oblivion was so near, the only solace he could find these days.

Five.

His body couldn't keep up, and he was on his hands and feet shaking and gasping. He desperately opened his eyes; trying to get a grip on reality, but the demons kept coming from him. He was being ambushed left, right and center, and it was like the more he ran the more they were. God, what had become of him; running him to exhaustion just to get a good nights sleep? Something he thought he could handle was ready for, was quickly becoming too much for him, he could feel the restlessness bubbling inside him like an active volcano. Suffocating him.

The hysteria was coiling and hissing like a caged animal waiting for the opportunity to strike. And it was scaring the hell out of him. A shrill ringing jolted him back to reality. He didn't check the caller ID for fear he'd chicken out and let it go to voice mail, like the coward he was. These days he could never trust anyone, possibly not even himself. “Hello?” He could even hear the edge in his voice, it seemed like the late night run did nothing to ease his agitation.

“Zayn, mate where are you?” Harry's words were slurred, and Zayn would bet his left nut that he would have to nurse his undoubtedly alcohol poisoned friend back to health the next day. Or at the very least mop up some slimy regurgitates, reminders of last night. “You said we needed to meet at Willie's by twelve.” Willies was LA's hottest club, extremely exclusive. Privy to only the most A-Lististed A-Listers. Known for the many beauties that prowled its bar, from buxom blondes to maidens with the darkest locks of midnight. The place was a man's paradise.

Zayn hated it.

He suppressed a sigh, these types of conversations was starting to become redundant. “No Harry, I said we needed to see Dr. Wilson about my hand.” His bad mood upped a notch; if Harry just used the head that mattered for once, things like this wouldn't happen.

“Oh, sorry man.” He didn't sound the least bit sorry. “Well come anyway, I'm with some Swedish twins who could definitely use some more company.” Zayn could hear the wolfish grin in Harry's voice and the tone was at full force. Zayn new that tone; the “I'm about to screw the hell out of everything in a skirt” tone. And usually he was there to clean up the catastrophic, woman destroying mess that came after it, but today he was having none of it. He had had a tough enough day already.

“Nah bro, I've got a sexy redhead coming over in a little bit. Man, if you see the rack on this one,” he responded. Which of course was a bold faced lie, Zayn was in fact running alone in a wooded area. Far from their luxurious LA apartment with nothing but the hoots of owls and chirps of crickets to keep him company. He doubted any redheaded beauty with a banging body would magically materialize in right in front of him in the midst of all these pine trees. Clad in form fitting leather or whatever was supposed to stimulate the male anatomy these days. Besides the pain was still fresh, wound was still open. He forced himself not to cringe as Harry growled in approval.

 “That's m'boy, it's ‘bout time you stopped moping around about Melanie and got your life back on track. I know that bitch screwed you over, but what a guy gonna do, your left hand's bound to get tired sometime.”