Misery Business // z.m.

Chapter 35

"Mary." He soothed. His strong arms encased me as I involuntarily trembled.

"It's getting worse." I mumbled as I pried his arms off my body and sat up.

"I know." He tried to calm me, to ease me, but I avoided his touch all together. He huffed in frustration.

After my nightmares I found his touch unbearable. He tried to comfort me, but I was inconsolable. When I woke from these nightmares, I felt like my mind and my body were disconnected. I just needed a few minutes to make sure I was still there. I didn't need anyone's hands on my skin. It didn't make me feel safe.

I think he knew that being touched wasn't what I needed. For a few moments, I needed to be on my own.

I got up from the bed, feeling unclean. I had showered a few hours before I went to sleep, but something about these dreams made me feel tainted and dirty. When I woke up I would just remember his hands on me and how he ripped my flesh. It made me want to shed my skin.

I walked straight to the shower, stripping down to nothingness. I didn't care about the fact that Zayn could walk in at any moment. It was nothing he hadn't seen. I mean he had to have seen me naked at least once before. With the amount of times I'd been rendered unconscious and woken up with different clothes on, I was sure he had.

The water was warm. I preferred to take cold showers, but instead of turning the temperature down, I turned it up. The water became so hot, that it practically scorched my fingertips when I placed my hand under the stream of water.

I didn't pull my hand back right away. I probably should have, but I kept my fingers there for a few moments. Just so I could feel the pain. It wasn't because I wanted to hurt myself. It was because I wanted to remind myself. I was tough. I had been through more pain than anything else could bring me.

I turned the temperature back to cold and in a shivering manner, scrubbed my body till I felt raw. I hadn't been raped but I was violated and I had scars to prove it

My hair was dripping when I stepped out of the shower and when I looked in the mirror, I inspected the scars on my body. They were healing, very well in fact. The unevenness that was there a week ago was beginning to disappear. Part of me wanted the scars to stay. I wanted them to remind me that I was tough, that I had been through pain.

I put a long white cotton shirt over my body. I didn't care about the fact that my hair got the shirt wet or the fact that you could practically see through it. I sat myself in front of the vanity and stared at the dark circles under my eyes.

I didn't recognize my face. I looked sad and hollow, but maybe that was because I was exhausted. All I knew is that I was far from the person I was.

Maybe that wasn't the worst thing though? Maybe the person I'd become was better in a way?

I mean sure, I woke up in the middle of the night riddled with fear, but what about the fact that I still tried to sleep? Even though it was hopeless, at least I was trying to get back to normal. At least I had determination.

I threw a bottle of lotion at the mirror, no longer wishing to look at myself. It didn't explode and the mirror didn't break, so no harm done.

I turned the lights off in the bathroom and went back into the bedroom. To my surprise, Zayn was exactly where I left him. He was in bed with his eyes closed. I was jealous of the peace sleep brought him. I wondered though if the murders he had committed ever haunted his dreams.

I climbed on the bed and let my damp hair drape across the pillow and my face. As I rested on my side I studied him. I resisted the urge to reach out and touch him.