I'm in love with a Killer

II

It's now mid afternoon as I shut the door to my flat, going to the kitchen to wash what little bit of blood that's on my hands and knife there are off. On the way, I take off my bloodied t-shirt and drop it into the sink. I begin carefully washing off my knife and hands, drying them off with a towel. I threw the now damp towel onto the counter, tucking my knife away as I walk back into the living room. As I sit on the couch, I set my knife and gun on the coffee table. I kick my feet up on the table as I slouch on the couch, throwing an arm over my face and groaning. It took me forever to track down this Max George guy -and then kill him because he put up quite a fight- that kept hurting Zayn. Zayn. Wonder if he is still in my room, I haven't heard any noise for a while.

"Zayn? Where are you?" I call out, not receiving an answer. I start to panic slightly, standing up and rushing to my room. I open the door, Zayn no where to be found except for his clothes on the floor. Shit. This can't be happening. He is going to tell the police. I am going to jail. Fuck.

"Zayn?!" I yell frantically, checking the bathroom but finding nothing but a damp towel hanging on the rack.

"Shit!" I groan, yanking my hair as I go back to the kitchen, finding my car keys missing. That fucker stole my car! I scream a slur of profanities, punching holes into the wall next to me. I've ruined everything. I should have killed him when I had the chance now I am going to jail. I'm not going down without a fight. I run to my bedroom, grabbing a small black back pack and fill it full of clothes, guns, and knives before running to the bathroom and grabbing my toothbrush and toothpaste. I run back to my living room, grabbing all my spare cash from its hiding spot underneath a loose floorboard and stuffing it into my backpack. There is no way in hell I am using a credit card now that the police might be tracking me. I make one last frantic trip to my bedroom to grab a dark hoodie, pulling it on as I try and calm myself so I don't look suspicious. I sling my backpack over my right shoulder, shakily walking down the hallway, making sure I have a gun in the back of my pants and a knife strapped to each of my calves. I fix my pant legs, standing up as I hear the door handle jiggle.

Nervously I grab at my gun, hiding in the doorway of the kitchen. I hear some shuffling and the door closing. I take a quiet breath and peek around the corner. The sight scares me just as much as it relieves me. It was just Zayn. Carrying grocery bags. I come out from the doorway, holding my gun out towards Zayn just in case he isn't alone. He stops walking as soon as he sees me, dropping the grocery bags onto the floor and raising his hands in surrender.

I walk towards him, circling him before coming back to the front of him, keeping the gun trained on him. "Where the hell were you?! Did you turn me in?! Are they waiting outside!? Fuck, I should-" Zayn cuts me off, placing his hand over mine, forcing me to lower my gun before lunging himself at me. His arms are wrapped around me before I even have time to think about what is going on. I find myself cautiously wrapping an arm around his body, the other tucking the gun back into my pants.

"Why would I turn you in? You're giving me what I want, death." He whispers shakily in my ear, not letting me go. I tighten my grip on him, burying my face into his neck, realizing he is taller than me.

"I thought you left me, Zayn. I thought you turned me in." I cry out in fear, glad he didn't actually do it.

"I wouldn't do that Louis. You mean too much to me right now." He rubs my back as we stand there for what seems like days. "I went and got some food because you have like nothing in your cupboards and refrigerator." Zayn chuckles, pulling out of our embrace to pick up the few grocery bags he dropped. I follow him to my kitchen, leaning against the door frame as I watch him look through my cupboards to put things away.

"Move in why don't you?" I tease him, pushing myself off the door frame to help him put the food away.

"Well, I figured that's what you wanted me to do, with our deal and all." He tells me, putting a milk jug into the fridge. I shrug, realizing that I didn't think that far ahead. I really need to think about this situation a little bit more.

"I didn't think that far ahead." I admit sheepishly, wondering why I have become so shy all of a sudden. I've never been shy before.

"Awh, someone's shy." Zayn teases me, walking over and grabbing my chin to tilt my head towards his. A blush blooms over my face, making it turn a lovely shade of pink. "I think it's adorable." Zayn leans down and presses his lips to mine. I stand there shocked, not knowing how to respond. I only did what I did this morning because I needed him to tell me who was hurting him. It didn't actually mean anything, or at least I didn't think it did. Zayn nudges my lips with his, obviously getting frustrated with my lack of response. I move my lips along with his for a few moments, pulling away to finish putting away groceries.

~•~•~•~

"Breaking News! The body of Max George, singer in the band The Wanted was found dead in an alley today. Stabbed three times in the chest and shot once in the head. There have been no suspects to his murder." I feel Zayn's gaze on me as I watch the news with a wicked grin across my face.

"He won't hurt you anymore Zayn." I tell him, the news lady still droning on about whatever quietly in the background.

"I didn't mean for you to kill him." He avoids eye contact, looking everywhere in the room except me. His eyes finally land on a stray string hanging off the jeans he's wearing. His fingers reach out and pull at it, twirling and twisting it around his fingers.

"Zayn, I told you I was going to make your life better and that man was obviously a cause to your wanting me to kill you. Now, come over here and sit with me. I wanna cuddle, it has been ages since I've done so." Zayn cautiously scoots over to me, leaving half a foot of space between the two of us. If that's how he's going to be, then so be it.

I reach my arm out and wrap it around his waist, pulling him towards me so he is practically in my lap. Zayn squirms and tries to get away but my grip on his waist keeps him in place. Eventually he stops squirming and relaxes into me, our focus moving from each other to the telly. I switch stations, not wanting Zayn to see Max's dead body on the screen. Instead, I turn on a bigger news station.

"-I don't know where he could be! I talked to him on the phone last night and when he didn't come home I figured he might of crashed with one of the other boys but when I called they all said they hadn't seen him." A blonde girl cried, a newsman trying to comfort her. Across the bottom, a banner said 'Wife of missing man'. I shrugged not thinking anything of it, until I realized Zayn had stiffened, barely even breathing, a look of hatred on his face as he stared at the screen.

"There you have it, the wife of Zayn Malik. The vocalist has been missing for a day now and was last seen leaving his concert last night alone. If anyone has seen him or-" I tuned the lady out, turning my attention to Zayn. I push him off of my lap, standing up to look down at him.

"What the fuck Zayn!? You are a fucking vocalist with a wife!? Was all that bullshit about you wanting me to kill you a joke?! I knew I should have killed you when I had the chance! Get the fuck out of my home! Don't even think about turning me in or I will kill both you and your wife! I don't want to see you again or I will kill you!" I scream at him, pointing towards the door. He slowly stands up, opening his mouth to speak but I send him a harsh glare which sends him backing away towards the door, head cast down in shame.

"I'm sorry, you wouldn't understand even if I told you." Zayn whispers, hand on the door handle. My breathing is coming out heavily, trying to keep my rage from boiling over and killing Zayn right now.

"Get out!" I growl, Zayn finally leaving after a few seconds of staring at me. I scream and kick the wall behind me, not caring about the damage done to my foot or wall, the only damage done that I care about was in my heart. I finally began to trust someone and he had lied to me!