Good Girls Love Bad Boys (Zayn Malik)

Chapter 55

Zayn's POV

Hell. No, not hell, but hell and something even worse. I got home at five am, two days after I said goodbye. Why two days ? Because I couldn't find the strength inside of me to stand up and come back, because I was destroyed.

It hurt me to see her like that, broken, covered in a river of her own tears, soffering. Every time I closed my eyes, the horrible image of her crying desperately in the floor popped out of the nowhere without a damn warning, and I couldn't help but lose my shit.

So I went to bars, and got fucking high in cocaine and whatever other shit Luke handed me, I drank until I was losing my head. It has been a while since I've hanged up or party with them (Luke, Ashton, Calum and Michael) but they're nice dudes, and the ones I live with wouldn't let me get high after all of the shit that happened.

I also went out alone, which was always the worst decision because I had to drive myself back, drunken or high, or maybe both.

I shoved my nasty set of keys in the front door, a bottle of whiskey dangling in my left hand, which was still kind of swollen from the fight back in fucking Boston, no fucking phone in my pocket because I left it in the airport, amazing huh ? There was no one in the living room, so I walked right past if after taking a huge gulp of the brownish liquid that made my head spin a little bit faster each time.

Eleanor had been staying in since Hawaii, so the whole damn house smelt all fucking girly and shit, it made me sick to my stomach. I heard people in the kitchen, so I walked in, not even bothering to not hit myself with the corner of wall.

They were all laughing at some shit Harry had said, and of course Eleanor was there laughing too. She gasped, and Liam let his fork fall to the kitchen counter. I couldn't bring myself to look at her, and my stomach twisted every time I saw her around the house, she reminded me of her.

"Zayn ?" Niall said, slowly getting closer.

"Don't fucking move another inch"

"We thought you'd like some dinner before going to bed ?" Liam asked.

"I won't go to fucking bed, I haven't slept since forever and I don't want a fucking bowl of that nasty orange thing Eleanor made" She gasped.

"Fucking smells like crap"

"Zayn stop it" Louis looked at me.

"No ! I won't stop Louis ! I am sick and tired of this world and everything in it, go fuck yourself"

"Zayn.." They all look so dissapointed, almost sorry for me. I kept thinking I don't need anybody's pity, because these days have all been nothing but me being selfish.

"Don't you dare fucking 'Zayn' me !" I screamed at the top of my lungs, till I could no longer breath, so I threw the glass bottle against the wall.

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND ?!" Someone said, I didn't know who though, because I couldn't see anything but her, she was tattooed to my eyelids, tattooed to my soul.

That same day was when I started having nightmares, terrible ones. I woke up at four am, screaming at the top of my lungs and swimming in a pool of my own sweat, tears stinging my eyes. Harry went to check on me, and I told him I was okay, truth is I wasn't. I wanted to kill myself. The nightmares kept coming, it was so bad I started taking cups of coffee before going to bed, so I wouldn't sleep.

I felt terrible, sick, and I wanted to sleep, but I feared of having the same bad dream again, so I decided it was better to lose sleep.

Every single day after this one was the same shit. I got home at 3 am, ate something to make me suber at least enough to apologize to the lads the next morning. Then things started getting boring, so I went to parties, got high and talked to girls.

I ended up in bed with one, three in one weekend actually. The first one was too wild, her moans were way too loud. I think she might've hurt my left ear. When I started kissing her, I felt guilty, hell the guilt was swallowing me completely alive, but I couldn't bring myself to stop. Somehow the asshole side of me took control, for a while, for a long while.

The second one was a blonde, almost white blonde. Her face reminded me of Lady Gaga. The blonde one had a boyfriend, and we had sex in his apartment. The dude came home and started screaming at her and saying how he'd spent all his money on her nasty extensions, I actually shivered when he said that, but the dude didn't even look towards me, so I just left.

The third one was boring as hell, she didn't even blink I think. The three of them were normal, common, not special, no Valerie. They had no curves or didn't set any conversation subject while you were eating her, they weren't her. I kept trying to make myself belive I was doing it with her, but it was kind of impossible, because they were nothing like her.

And this kept going, three non-interesting girls per weekend, maybe one or two in weekdays and I'm not going to act like a man, I felt guilty. The guilt was eating me and getting even deeper into my flesh every day, hungry for more. I kept going to parties, every day was a little crappier.

I saw the lads a minute everyday. They all gave me little looks of disapproval here and there, and I didn't punch them, because I knew it was all wrong, what I was doing. Every single thing I kept doing over and over again was wrong, it felt like in the old times, before she changed me, when I would go out of Friday night and return in Monday still not sobered up.

I rember how much I hated her and her church clothing back then, and how she looked so boring and like all she did on her free time was feed the homeless, and I remember how much my fucked up mind changed when I got a closer glimpse at her, and I knew how wrong I was all those times I thought how boring her life might be.

I wish I had her wrapped around my arms right now. Sometimes I go upstairs to the graffiti room and think about her for hours straight, and I wonder what would've happened if we were still together, if I had her head resting in my chest, feeling her breath, knowing she was there and knowing she was listening. I kept having the nightmares, every day I screamed louder, every day they scared me even more.

I also smoked too much pot and was dizzy all week, which didn't help, at all.

Anyways, this kept going, for weeks. I kept waking up in weird ass places, smelly couches, lonely rooms, even the dirty floor of some frat house, and I kept smoking, and drugging myself until I could no longer remember my name. The lads got mad at me, they even stopped checking on me when I had the nightmares, I guess they just got used to it, to me going to my back self, before her.

And then, a Tuesday morning, something odd happened. I sat up in bed, and I felt like doing so much stuff at the same time, so I stood up, took a bath, put on the nicest clothes I could find and drove myself in look for a job, and I got one. Fucking Malik with a job ?!?! No way, yes actually I did get one, and you won't believe where.

I kept progressing, I quit the smoking, the drugs, the alcohol and the girls were all gone, and I felt kind of awesome, though I still had too many scars from battle. I kept going to work everyday and I helped the boys with the groceries and the bill-paying, I started eating breakfast and going to parks, and even sent in my application for UCLA and it all was just to foreign, yet so amazing.

At some point, the nightmares started getting less violent, and I got some sleep finally. I kept molding and shaping myself more and more into the person she wanted me to become. One day, I had one specific dream, I dreamt about her smile. I felt like she would be proud of me if she saw where I was standing now, and to know that she got me there. But I never really forgot how long and difficult the way up was, I never really took her out of my mind, because although we are not together, she will always have a place there, and in my heart.

"I wish that I could wake up with amnesia
And forget about the stupid little things
Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you
And the memories I never can escape"

Hi everyone !! I just wanted to thank y'all for the votes and the comments but mainly the support ! I am more than thankful and happy for every single one of my readers, I hope you are all enjoying the story. Also, this Turkish reader translated the story to her language, so if you want to check it out go ahead.