That's How We Fell! (ft.Zayn Malik)

Chapter 25

A/N: Since I am amazing I thought I'd update another chapter!
Warning: this chapter light contain a bit of self harm. I do not support or encourage self harm in anyway and the real life Zayn does not resemble THWF Zayn in anyway. Thanks!
Happy Reading!
Xx

~Zayn~

I walked inside my room, feeling emotionless. Having Ray say those words were a thousand times worse.

"You're such a disappointment, Zayn"

It hurt.

It hurt so f**king much.

I looked around my room, searching for some form of insanity to set my sanity right.

I wanted to do something. I wanted to feel the rush. The rush of something dark and dangerous.

Without a split seconds thought I walked straight into my en suite bathroom. I closed the door, but did not lock it, not expecting anybody to barge in. I looked at myself in the huge vanity mirror that I had.

Disobedient.

Stupid.

Vain.

Manwhore.

Disappointment.

I could see the shadow of a f*ckedup person staring back at me.

I was becoming more and more confused as I stared at myself in the mirror.

I realised how weak I've become, mentally.

This wasn't even like me anymore.

I was sexy, handsome, charming, likeable, and not a disappointment. In front of me stood the hollow shell of the person I used to be.

I was no longer the happy go lucky, Zayn.

I was the dark, mysterious pop star who drank, did drugs and had one night stands.

What have I become?!

I slowly rummaged through my cabinet, searching for the one thing that was both deadly and beautiful.

Don't do it. You were clean for three months. Don't do it, Zayn.

I had self control but having everything that I hated about myself being thrown in my face was too much for me to take in.

I finally took the blade, out.

Beautiful, dangerous, shiny, yet dark.

Don't!

I smiled weakly.

Guess, I wasn't as strong as I gave myself credit for.

Don't do it, Zayn! You're stronger than that.

I took a deep breath and slid down the bathroom wall, staring at the shiny blade.

Physical pain is only the expression of the internal torment. The scars were only a sign of internal war.

I stared at the old scars, the scars that refused to fade. The scars that were made by me, because I cut so deep. The scars, a reminder of the weakling that I was.

I sighed and slowly glided the shiny material along my smooth, tattooed skin. I hissed in pain as I cut deeper, deeper than the last.

Zayn! Stop!

Only that, I didn't. I cut once more and then another. I felt the emptiness fade away, the pain filling the emptiness up. I was sweating, tears rolling down my cheek, I placed the blade aside, deciding I couldn't take pain anymore.