Runaway (A Zayn Malik fanfiction)

Chapter 64 ♡

Chapter 64

(Kat's POV)

Hot and angry tears stung my eyes as I shoved my apartment door open. I walked inside, slamming the door shut behind me. I threw the cigarette that was in my hand in the ashtray on my coffee table. I smelt like smoke as I walked over to the fridge, sobbing as I opened it. I took out a bottle of beer and popped open the cap with ease. I chugged the beer down, not caring if it hurt to drink this much, this quickly.

My mind raced around the incident that had just happened. Zayn cried because of me, and it hurt so badly. What did I deserve after that? Nothing, I deserved nothing. I wanted to hold him and tell him that I was there and everything will be fine, but I couldn't even pull myself together. How could I do that to him?

I felt so weak after I heard his sobs. These past couple of days have sucked the life out of me, but when I heard him cry, I felt dead. I feel like I'm just a breathing body walking around empty, numb.

After I finished with the empty beer bottle, I dropped it on the floor, watching it shatter. If only it was that easy to destroy myself. I didn't bother walking around the bottle as I made my way to the restroom. Once I walked inside, I looked to my right to see a pack of band aids and a pack of new razors set out, waiting for me. Tears fell down my cheeks as I picked up a new razor. My knees became weak as I fell on the floor, sobbing. I pulled up my sleeves to reveal bruised and cut arms, red from my previous markings.

You pathetic little bitch. You made him cry. He still loves you. He's trying to apologize. Listen to him. Actually don't, you don't deserve someone as amazing as him. You deserve to hurt yourself because if he actually cared, he'd be right here with you.

One slice.

All he wanted from you was sex. Don't you understand you little slut? You're nothing special.

Another slice.

He sung to you and what did you do? You shut him out.

Number three.

You don't deserve to live, but you also don't deserve to just die. Kill yourself slowly. Feel the pain.

Here we go again.

Just like this, I ended up with twelve new scars on my arms. Everyday, I come in here and cried, reminding myself why I am not worthy of anything.

I should've just had sex with him, I should've. If I did, then maybe we would've still been together. It's not that I didn't want to have sex with him, of course I did. If with anyone, I wanted it to be with him. He took care of me so well that I never worried that he would ever hurt me, but when he did, something in me snapped.

I couldn't get hurt again. Not by him. Not by anyone. There was only one person that could hurt me now, and that was myself.

I was alone at home, so I didn't bother rolling down my bloody sleeves. I got up off the floor and walked outside the bathroom, tears automatically falling from my eyes. Something about seeing my arms told me that I was still alive, even though I barely was. I promised my body a slow and painful death, I couldn't just get off easy.

Starving myself. Cutting myself. Making myself suffer. These were all ways to let me know that I was dying. I knew death wasn't going to solve anything, but at least I could escape. This was the second time this happened to me, but this time, I was all alone.

I needed help, but I was trapped inside myself.

***

(Zayn's POV)

"Mate, it's okay. You're fine." Louis whispered from next to me, "Go home, get some rest. I'll let Caroline know what happened an-"

"No," I immediately spat, my voice coming out rougher than I intended it to. "You can't tell Caroline about Kat, okay? Don't."