Secrets (Zayn Malik)

Chapter 38

Zayns POV

I'm battling with my dreams and reality, trying to decipher which state of mind is healthier for me to believe in.

She forgave me, right?

Flashbacks on pouring rain crashing on our heads, as she stared at me, pleading for me to listen to her. Her body shivered under what should've been ice, and her lips trembled as she tried to speak.

But couldn't.

Partly because she was freezing from the inside out, and partly because I was too much of an ass to listen to her.

I told her I loved her though, but I'm not quite sure she remembers. Either that, or she may not feel the same and refuses to acknowledge it. I told her I loved her, and meant it more than I've ever meant anything in my life.

Fuck, if James or the others could read my mind they would just buy her a fucking whip to use on me. But I don't care, if this is what love feels like and I'm merely dreaming with my eyes wide open, don't wake me up.

Her head is leaning against the window, as she listens to the man on the radio speak. She hums a melody to a song I can't recall, but I tune her out and focus on the long road ahead.

"Hey, I want to talk to you about something." She sits up, yawning.

"Sure, what is it?"

"A long time ago, I spoke to Ashley about my mum," I grip the steering wheel a little harder, and my knuckles slowly turn white. "She suggested if I wanted to know more about this whole prostitution thing with my mom that I've forgotten about lately, that I should ask someone." Her voice is small, quiet, and anxious.

"Are you going to ask me about her? Because I'm sorry, but I know nothing." I feel bad for reacting so harshly, but it's true.

"No, not you," she laughs awkwardly. "Michael."

I slam the breaks on the empty road, thankful no other cars are around and that she's wearing her seat belt. I squeeze my eyes shut, and my heart begins to race at the thought of her even speaking to him.

"Why, what ev-"

"I know! I know it sounds absolutely insane but it makes sense." She shrugs, shifting in her seat.

A moment of silence passes between us, and she takes the opportunity to speak.

"He's the only one who can tell me what really happened with her. I knew nothing my whole life about her, but he knew everything. I just want to know what happened, and why."

"Why would you want to ask the man who killed her?"

Ouch.

"Because the man who killed her was married to her for twenty years." She spits, and leans back against the black leather.

"Ella, he's not safe. You yourself, said he's insane and was a drug addict. How do we know he won't go crazy and kill you too?" I plea with her, hoping she'll let my words sink in.

But of course, they don't.

"If he wanted to kill me Zayn, he would've done it by now." Her piercing blue eyes strike me, and I'm a bit intimidated.

You're a bitch, my conscious mocks.

"He's absolutely mad, he may look normal but he's not!" I fight back, subconsciously wishing I didn't.

"And how would you know?" She crosses her arms, and glares at me.

"I don't, okay? But I could see it every time I saw him. The way his eyes would scan you up and down as if you were his pray or something!"