zarry // discontinued
Two broken teens. Two depressed lives. One wrong number that changed everything.
[ WARNING : Story contains triggering themes like abuse, sexual harassment etc. ]
[ STATUS : part 1, completed; part 2, discontinued ]
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Maybe it's the loneliness that is seeping off the faded white walls, or, maybe it's the numbness that has settled in his limbs—he doesn't know. The only thing clear in his fuzzy head is that, he is hurt.
Amidst the raw sound of his breathing, not one sound is audible in the emptiness.
His unfocused gaze falls on his bruised and bloodied knuckles, and then, on the wall splattered with the same redness that is oozing out from his fingers. In reflex, his body slumps back, as if drained from every ounce of energy he possessed.
*
Lightning can strike even in the bluest of the skies.
And Claire knows that.
So, maybe the sight of her step-brother leaning heavily against the wall, taking deep breaths as if trying to keep his fist from striking the hard surface of the cracked wall, did startle her, but in no way, surprised her.
"Anger is the greatest destroyer, Zayn."
Zayn raises his gaze abruptly, and their eyes meet in a fierce battle; both daring, both challenging.
"I know," Zayn says, slowly "so I stopped."
"Punching the wall?" Claire's eyes are hard and devoid of any emotions. She doesn't know what she was expecting, but when Zayn gives her a deliberate nod, her mask wears off, and she rushes to her brother's side.
"You ought to stop doing that."
"Twice. I have done that only twice, including today." Zayn says, leaning further into her comforting touch.
"Still..." her words drown into the never ending maze of despair.
He shakes his head, looking at her almost lovingly. "Just a few more months, and then, I'll be free. And I will take you with me." he pauses, and finally says "I am out for a smoke."
And he jumps out of the window, landing deftly on his feet. The house is old and faded, with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a hall and a kitchen. It is like an old photograph, wrinkled and pale with age.
Zayn lets out an exhausted sigh, watching the cigarette burn idly in his fingers. He takes a long drag, wisps of grey smoke escaping and disappearing in the starry night sky.
