Addicted z.m

Chapter 10

Zayn's POV

Selfish.

I'm so damn selfish.

I'm selfish, needy, and dependent.

I want her here for my own stability; I need her here for my own state of mind; I depend on her for comfort and pain relief.

A part of me that tried to mask the guilt told myself that she already knew how much I needed her and that it was okay; but the other part screamed that no one, especially Spencer, should have to deal with this. To be honest, a lot of this wouldn't have been sparked if she hadn't come into my life. But she was here. And like she said, she's not going anywhere.

She's planted her roots in me and they won't come out, not even with the sharpest of shovels.

I winced when pain sparked in my hand from clenching it. This stupid gash! I don't even know what came over me last night. One moment Marisole is speaking to me, the next, there's a broken lamp in front of me and I'm face to face with-

I swear it, I saw those big brown eyes reaching out for me.

I don't remember anything after that. I just remember opening my eyes and feeling this terrible pain in my hand....and....Spencer was there. She was there, I tell myself. Right?

Did she even come home with me?

My fingers grew numb in the crisp air as I held the burning cigarette that I had only taken one drag from in the past 20 minutes that it had been lit. I'd been out there for about an hour; I grew restless and I knew Spencer was too deep in sleep to notice my hand slip from under hers.

I ended up tossing the death stick off the balcony and stood there, watching the fog slowly lift from the dew on the grass.

I nearly leaped from where I was standing when I felt a pair of arms wrap around my torso. I shivered and settled into her warm embrace as she rested her ear on my back.

"Good morning," her morning voice chirped.

I couldn't find any words to say because I was still stuck between what was real and what wasn't.

"How long have you been up?" she asked.

I shrugged.

"How's your hand?" Her voice was so soft and desperate for me to speak to her, to know that I was fine. But I wasn't.

"Hurts..." I simply stated.

She sighed a shaky sigh. "Zayn, please don't shut me out." Her voice cracked, along with me. I was pushing her away because I didn't want to be selfish anymore. "Zayn, talk to me. Don't do this to yourself again."

I let out the breath I'd been holding and turned to face her. Fear was all that was visible in her eyes; fear for me. I wiped a tear off of her cheek and pulled her close.

She wrapped her arms around me tightly and I could feel her tears soak into my shirt. But I don't remember sleeping in a shirt, let alone putting it on.

"You need help." She sobbed.

I didn't respond, this time because I didn't want to hear this. She lifted her head from my chest and looked up at me. "Did you hear me?"

"Loud and clear." I mumbled.

"Really, 'cause it doesn't feel like it." She was becoming aggravated again and I frowned. "I'm sorry," she lowered her voice to a soft tone and folded her arms across chest. "I'm just really worried about you and it's so...frustrating when you don't even retaliate."

"I'm fine." I said softly.

"Oh bull crap, Zayn." She snapped. "If you're 'fine' then I must be the calmest person in the world."