not okay {ziam}

nine

{nine}

the girl

-

i find trying to let go of something you never had is nearly impossible.

the wires in my brain can't quite compute the loss of someone i became unintentionally anchored to. my mind tangles with the culmination of someone who felt as though they had become a shadow of mine in such a short amount of time, close and unwavering. but as i turn to capture their silhouette in my embrace, they're gone. i had felt like a used rag-doll, twisted and ripped apart by greedy hands, now left to rot at the bottom of a mildewed wardrobe. had i been forgotten about for something more exciting?

zayn had absolutely nothing to do with me and i had wondered if i had been stargazing this entire time. that all those times he had sunk into my flesh without warning, if i had only conjured it up inside my head to help ease my loneliness. the day he had waved at me, the grin he tossed over his shoulder, the agreement to keep silent on our behalf, and the way he had kissed me as if he had something to prove. my newfound hunger for the touch of another person leaving me restless -- rather, angry.

he had moved on to another piece of bait, even if they were bigger and much older than him.

i had spent too many days watching zayn ditch school around lunch time, climbing onto the back of some man's motorbike and clutching onto the stranger's worn leather jacket. the flirty snickers and the way the teenage delinquent had let the biker grope his ass, i'd watch it happen over and over again. just to torture myself.

i wondered why zayn had the tendency to let older men touch him as if he were subservient and so willing to please. when he was nothing but bullish, vicious and cunning. why he had kissed me so hard with such authority and possession? why had i been different to all the others? had it all been to keep me quiet for all the things he had done? but somehow, i doubt that. i think i was just convenient for him.

so while zayn was getting his cheap fixes of older men and rides on a harley davidson, from what i had been able to capture in the short moments of his presence -- i was left out to die of rejection.

today had been a little different, i could still see his previous night simmering in those brown eyes. the darkness and the exhaustion of a party the night before etched into his body, neck bruised and lips splotchy. the school day has ended, yet it seems like he has everyone surrounding him outside, as his unruly hair tousles in the wind. okay, maybe not everyone, just a few harmless boys trying to get his attention as he sits outside on the gate, rolling a thin cigarette. the sky is grey and he is laughing at something someone has said, putting on some charming, superficial show. pretending to be something he isn't -- which is a cruel lunatic.

and i'm blistering at the sight of it, my heart racing with hot fury, ready to drag him away by his neck and tell him everything i feel. tell him how heartless he is, tell him that he's an evil mother fucker, and that i despise him and whatever game he is playing. even if he scared me, even if he'd laugh in my face, even if he was so absurdly unpredictable that i would left even more confused by the confrontation.

i slam my locker, hand clutching my bag as i storm down the hall. my eyes on the prize, tongue curling with venom, ready to end this bullshit. people stare me, as my hands shove open the exit, feeling the glass reverberate with my impact. i feel like i'm so close, can taste the smoke of his strong tobacco, hear the artificiality in his chatter, my fingers trembling with rage. just as i think i can feel his skin on mine and all the right words to say -- someone runs around the corner and collides into me, hard.