Addicted z.m

Chapter 29

The dress Spencer wears in this chapter is above or to the side, depending on what device you're reading off of. This chapter does NOT get graphic or descriptive at all, I promise.

I woke up believing the stories I was told, the stories I invisioned in my head, were just dreams. I opened my eyes and gasped when Zayn's sleeping face was only a couple inches from mine. I didn't think it was possible, but he seemed so much more at ease in his sleeping state than I had ever seen him before.

He looked younger than he normally did when he slept.

In this slumber, he looked like a person who was having their first decent rest in a long time; like all the stress had suddenly been relieved from his body.

I absent-mindedly touched his stubble-lined jaw with the tips of my fingers. I had barely touched him but his eyes slowly fluttered open, squinting to adjust to the light.

"Good morning," he croaked.

I smiled. "Did I wake you?" I whispered.

"Maybe, but I don't mind," he reassured. "If I know you, I know you would've let me sleep til sun down."

"Well you let out quite a heavy load last night. Figured you'd need the rest."

He took ahold of my hand and pressed my fingers to his lips then placed my palm on his cheek. "I'd really like to know your input on last night, on eveything I said."

I was kind of thrown off. I didn't think he, of all people, would be eager to hear what I had to say. I figured he'd try to avoid hearing my opinion at all costs.

To be honest, I didn't have much of an opinion of the whole thing except for two things. "Thank you," I say. "I know it must not have been easy telling me all of that but I'm glad you did. Everythng makes sense now."

He nodded in understanding and waited for me to go on.

"I want you to let go of this burden that you feel the need to carry," I jumped straight to the point. "You keep blaming yourself for what happened to Marisole and it isn't healthy. It's not your fault."

"I started this whole mess," he spoke up.

"But you weren't the one who pulled the trigger." He dropped his gaze at my words and I rubbed circles on his cheek with my thumb. "You keep baring the guilt of someone else's doing. Just because he doesn't feel guilty for killing her doesn't mean you have to."

"Then who is there to take the blame?" his eyes lifted back up to mine. "She didn't pull her own trigger. This wasn't just some freak accident. Everything adds up and it begins with me being stupid enough to talk to the likes of them."

"You didn't know what they were capable of. You were such a gentle soul, you didn't want to believe someone cruel enough to murder and only worry about getting away with it could be standing right in front of you."

"That's where I went wrong. She told me not to talk to them and I did anyway."

"Zayn, I need you to listen to me," I stared straight into his eyes, making sure I had his full attention. "You didn't pull that trigger. You loved that girl. You took two bullets for her and didn't complain. You would've taken that last one if you could've. You tried to clean up your mess. You tried and that's all that matters. You need to stop hating yourself like this. You're absolutely beautiful and you should never estimate yourself so low."

A small smile tugged at his lips as tears filled his eyes.

"What?" I whispered.

"Nothing," he put his head down momentarily before looking back up at me again. "It's just...Marisole said the same thing to me before she died."