Secrets (Zayn Malik)

Chapter 22

"Kiera, where the hell have you been?" My father yells from the kitchen, as my mother stumbles through the front door. He holds a beer in his hand, as he approaches her and grips her face with one hand.

"Out, Michael. Now leave me alone." She spits, and makes her way up the staircase. Her tan peacoat covers her body, and scarf hiding the red marks left on her neck. She carries shopping bags up with her, but stops as she sees me sitting quietly at the top of the stairs.

"Hey sweetie." She smiles warmly, kneeling down on the step in front of me. "I got you something, want to see?"

I nod in silence, observing her movements as she rummages through the silver plastic bag. She pulls out a black pullover sweater, the thread laced with traces of silver string.

"Thanks mom," my lips form a smile, but my mind is wondering where she's been all night, and how she was able to buy me this. She's hardly ever bought me clothes. She kisses my cheek, and stands to make her way around me. I fold the sweater in my lap, and make my way to my room.

Tonight, I can only hope my father won't act out once again. Nights like these, only end up in broken beer bottles and helpless screams. Endless fights, and restless nights.

Not to my surprise, a few hours late I hear the first beer bottle smash against the wall. I attempt to turn the volume up on the television, and wrap myself in my blanket, but I still can't block it out. After fifteen minutes of endless back and forth arguing, I shut off the tv and sit to just listen. Listen, and accept the fact that I do live in a house of a broken family. I may only be fifteen, but I'm old enough to know, and accept that.

"Kiera, you go and buy her these things, and for what? To distract her from wondering where you've been all night?" He yells, but his voice is nothing but distraught.

"She is my daughter, Michael. I love her, and I buy her things because I love her." Her voice breaks, and I know the tears are streaming down her face.

"Are you going to buy her the same clothes you wear? I mean really, would you allow her to wear those things?"

My body cringes, as I hear a slap come across skin. I don't know who hit who, and quite frankly I don't want to. I cover my ears with my pillow, as I turn over and try to fall asleep. The only comfort I have on nights like these, is the moon glowing a white light on me. The only source of light, when it comes to deep dark situations like these.

"We can't keep doing this!" I hear my mother cry, as her sobs burst from her lips.

"You can't keep seeing that man, and doing this to yourself!" My father yells back, and I can't understand what he means. "Don't you see what it's doing to me?"

"I refuse to let you blame your mistakes on me." She spits, and I can imagine the venom dripping off her tone.

Loud steps come up the staircase, and I know it's one of them coming to me. They always do this. They check on me, as if I'm a child who doesn't know any better, and tell me how much they love me. As if everything is perfectly fine. The door creaks open, and my mother steps in, gently shutting the door behind her. The glow of the moon casts an angelic light on her face and for a moment, just a moment, I believe she is.

She sits next to me, as I look up at her in silence. "We'll be okay, you know that right?"

I nod, assuring her more than myself.

"You and I will be just fine." She plants a kiss on my forehead, as she lays next to me. She wraps her arms around my body, and I'm hesitant at first. I can't decide whether to let her in or not, let her attempt to make me believe nothing is wrong. As if all the pieces of this broken family are put together. Eventually, I stop fighting the resistance and snuggle closer to her. Even though I'm fifteen, and not five, I still need this love and attention. I know exactly what's wrong, what my father does, and I want her to know I love her, even if he doesn't.

Every night. Every night, the cycle repeats itself. Sadly, it took my mother no longer living to break the cycle. My whole life, I viewed my father as a sadistic, evil, drunk who hated my mother. Laying his hands on her for the pure satisfaction that he could. Being raised in a house such as this, I learned to despise alcohol. And in that moment, on that night, I made a promise to myself.

"I won't allow myself to let history repeat." I whisper, before my body shut down, falling asleep.

--

Zayn stares at me in silence. I watch him carefully, as I see his eyes scanning my face. It makes me slightly uncomfortable but his proximity overpowers that feeling, making me feel more safe and comfortable than ever. He places both hands on each side of my face, and pulls me in as he places his lips on mine. His lips are warm, and soft as they press against my own. And I never want him to stop. Sadly, he pulls away and I'm left breathless.

"Ella, I'm so sorry. I had no idea." His eyes show pity, and inside, I cower away never wanting someone to pity me anymore.

"It's okay, I mean I'm not in that situation now so I think I'm alright." I shrug, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm just so sorry." He shifts on the bed, and stares at the comforter lying underneath us.

"Why?" I can't take someone's pity anymore.

He pauses, gazing up from the blanket, searching the room. Searching for an answer it seems.

"I don't know, but I know one thing." He whispers, and I wait in anticipation. "I can be your family now, and I can keep you safe."

My heart stops for a millisecond and my stomach erupts in butterflies. I run my fingers through his raven hair, brushing it off his forehead as I smile widely at him. I giggle, the nerves pushing their way forward, and out of my body. He joins me, smiling and laughing as he watches me enjoy this moment and his words that I've been waiting to hear.

"But I have to ask you one question." He places his finger below my chin, and brings my face up so my eyes meet his. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes." The grin on my face is contagious, because after I answer, we both are left smiling uncontrollably.