English Love Affair » z.m au

24. "Okay."

Scar

 

Grey.

All I could see was grey.

Life had lost all color, all taste, all brightness.

It was dull, empty, ever so worthless.

Sometimes, I’d see him.

He’d stand there, mock me for losing the one thing that was ever real about this pathetic excuse of a life.

Sometimes, he’d be wounded, the way he was, on that very last day.

Other times, he’d look the way he always looked; decent and composed.

He’d laugh at my face, because why wouldn’t he?

He was right.

He was always right.

Every time he called me a good for nothing piece of shit, he was right.

Every time he said I brought this upon myself, he was right.

And he was still right, when he told me that Zayn was too good for me, that he never would have stayed the same if I had fully let him in, that finding me, was the loss of his life.

He was right.

I never should have allowed this to happen.

I should have fought harder.

But fighting against Zayn was always a losing battle.

I was too weak.

And I needed him.

He was the only good thing about this fucked up life I led.

He was a dream, to which I could always run from the nightmare that lived within me.

He was my sanctuary, my safety, all molding into that lone beautiful being.

He was my beyond, my after, my own alternative identity.

He took me past all the scars, wounds, and bleedings.

He silenced the voices, because nothing could ever overshadow the tenderness of his.

My heart was so out of it, so rusty, drowned in dust from all those years during which it had never been put to use, then he came along, reviving it, reminding me that it was still there.

Like all devils crave angels’ purity, like all bad searches for the good to intoxicate it, pollute it, claw its own impurities into it and deform it.

I craved him.

Like all mad men crave sanity, like all deaf men crave the slightest of all voices, like all blind men crave sunlight, even if for only one day.

I craved him.

He gave me something to lose.

And like the A-class fuck up I was, I did my job brilliantly.

And I lost him.

Most nights I wouldn’t sleep at all, until they gave me loads of sedatives.

I was either haunted by Patrick or by Zayn and either ways, I couldn’t possibly live through any of it.

I couldn’t live through anything anymore.

I was just… done.

“ Ms. Adams, there’s a phone call for you at the doctor’s office.”

Zoe; the nightshift nurse, said, helping me out of bed, because yes, I was that pathetic now. She guided me through the empty hallways, and into the room, where the doctor gave me that smile that everyone seemed to give me nowadays; that “we’re sorry you’re so screwed up” kind of smile, or “oh the poor lady lost it” smile. They both then left me alone with the phone. I put it to my ears, still unable to manner my scattered thoughts.

“ Jesus Christ, this is taking forever!” I heard Louis’ familiar voice complaining, and for a moment, I remembered how to smile.

“ Louis,” God, was I grateful to hear his voice.

“ Scarlett, h- hey, how are you doing?”

The million dollars question right there.

“ I’m- well, I don’t know, I’m here, so go figure.”

My voice sounded foreign as it fell upon my hearing, since I hadn’t heard it all that much ever since they transferred me here.

“ I- God, I don’t even know what to say. I just- it’s really, really good to hear your voice, Scar.”

“ Yours too, Louis.”

And the silence that followed spoke louder than a thousand words.

“ Listen, I-“

“ How is he?”

“ He- he’s fucked, Scarlett.”

I knew he would be.

Everybody always ended up being so, with me in their lives.

“ Tell him I’m sorry.”

“ I can’t do that.”

“ What?”

“ Scarlett, I hate to be an inconsiderate bastard right now, but I was calling you because I need to ask you for a favor.”

“ What is it?”

“ I- I need you to stay away from him. I’ve been friends with him for years now, Scarlett, and he’s been through his fair share of shit, but this-I’ve never seen him like this. I don’t know how to help him. And I- I know you couldn’t help it, but I don’t have anyone else to blame. It might not be my place to ask you to forget you ever met him, but I am. I’m asking you to forget Zayn ever existed. If you see him accidently, years from now, or days, look the other way, and keep walking. If he calls, don’t pick up, and I’ll make sure he gives up soon enough. I swear I’m not doing this to be a jerk, but I- I can’t see him like this, and I don’t want to hate you. I don’t. But this has to stop. The thought of him being unable to help you, kills him, and we both know no one ever can help, not with this, Scarlett. So please, if you ever gave a fuck about him, let him go, and if you didn’t then- then it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“ Okay.”

“ Okay?”

“ Okay.”

__________________________________________________________

A/N: surprise update because ily :)

comment and let me know what you think x