My Angel

Chapter 2

Zayn was barely concious as the girl cleaned his wounds.  His chocolate eyes followed her every movements as she bandaged him. She was beautiful. Blond locks of silk framed her pale heart-shaped face, her golden eyes focused intently on his wounds.  Barely able to keep his eyes open, Zayn reached up to tuck a stray tendril of platinum silk behind her ear before a wave of weakness washed over him and his hand hit the ground with a dull and painful thud.

                            ******

"Zayn? Zaaaaaayyyyn?" A pleasant voice whispered to him. He opened his eyes slowly and saw his room from childhood, but it had changed.  There were no longer pictures of superheroes and ''The Wiggles" on his wall but posters of his favorite bands and cars and the like.  The walls were no longer wallpapered with choo-choo trains, but were painted a navy blue.  The only thing that showed that he was the one who lived here was his younger sister Waliyha shaking his shoulder.  "Zayn! Wake up will you?" He squinted trying to find the error his mind had made, there was always something wrong with his dreams. It might be as simple as miscolored eyes, or as obvious as-- there.   His window wasn't facing the backyard like it should, but it was facing the street.  He yawned, ready to face the dream now that he was sure that it was one.  "Wake up! We have to do chores." Waliyha said.

Zayn went through the rest of his day with joy, he would give anything to still have to clean this house. But that was a dream long lost.

                              ******

He was awoken to the sounds of pots and pans, Zayn curiously opened his eyes to see a large pair of green ones staring intently at him. "What is your name?" a distinctly aussie accent asked him. "Z-Zayn" he replied looking at the guy hovering over him, he had messy black and purple hair and was wearing a white button up.  "Zayn what?" the lad asked him. "M-Malik" Zayn said sitting up and looking around him. "W-Where am I?" he asked looking down at himself and realizing his black clothing had been replaced by a white cotton t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. "My livingroom. " he replied not missing a beat.  "And you are...?" Zayn asked, he knew he might've sounded rude but he'd lost his manners in foster care.  The boy however, did not seem offended.  "I am Michael Gordon Clifford. I hope you will stay for dinner. " Zayn was starting to feel majorly uncomfortable until a head of platinum hair poked in the doorway. "Oh come off it Mikey, you're scaring.the poor lad to death." said the most beautiful voice he'd ever heard. "However we would love it if you'd stay, and you're in pretty rough shape anyway. Oh I'm Juliet by the way. " Zayn smiled dumbly and recieved a smack on the head "Oi! That's my sister!" the so called 'Mikey' yelled. "I didn't say anything!!" Zayn yelled in defense "BUT YOU WERE THINKING THINGS!" Yelled a fuming michael.

Michael was right, Zayn was thinking things, and all through dinner he continued to think things about the fair Juliet, with her golden eyes and platinum hair. Juliet with her ivory skin and her red dress that danced across her flesh like fire when she moved, Juliet with her voice like music, and Juliet who he wanted screaming his name.