Fire Starter

Chapter Eighteen

Feel free to POLITELY point out a mistake that I may have made throughout this story... I'm only human. x

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The pillow pressed to the side of my face would never be the same because of the enumerable amount of tears that has stained the depths of fabric through the pillowcase for the last few hours of the day. At the same time that I wanted to be comforted, I didn't want to see Zayn's face.

How did I get this far in life being so oblivious, and so stupid?

Those dreams were memories that were thought to be completely gone, but they had come back to me.

I had a sister...

A SISTER!

How had I not realized it at first to the sight of the room in the attic? Why hadn't I recognize it straight away?

Zayn didn't bother me at all. In fact, he hadn't even showed his face until merely two days later. I hadn't eaten, or even showered. Zayn didn't even come in his room to sleep or to even get clothes, he just let me be.

Maybe he had gotten clothes when I was asleep. But all I did was cry, pee, and sleep.

I would never be the same.

I was half way drifting into sleep, ending another day until the door creaking open and startled me.

The bed in front of me went down as he climbed up and onto the duvet.

We sat there for a few minutes, in silence and I suppose because he thought that I was asleep. He smelt like fresh soap which confirmed my suspicions that he had been in here earlier.

When his warm had touched my face, I began to cry again. I didn't want to be touched, so I thrashed in the comforter because I was covered from my feet, all the way to my chin. I was basically immobile when he wrapped his arms around me through the cover, making me stop trying to hit him.

"Leave me alone." I sobbed.

"I gave you some alone time. I can't take it anymore." Zayn sounds just as broken and distraught.

"Why?" I cried, questioning everything from my existence to why my life was kept a secret. My thrashing began again, I even let out gurgling screams.

"Shhh..." Zayn brought me closer to him. I tried to resist burying my head in his neck to keep from drowning in his presence, but couldn't. "Baby, it's okay..."

"No!" I sobbed, because it wasn't okay and it would never really be. "I want to go home."

"This is your home," I felt the mentally break in his heart that is expressed in his voice. "Here with me."

Zayn's fingers could be felt in my hair, caressing my scalp.

"Home is in California." And it had been for as long as I could fully remember.

Though many things made sense, others didn't.

Like, who was Zayn to me? He had to be of some relation to me. I prayed to a God that he wasn't my brother, because though we had the same black hair, many of our features were different.

I would die if so, because I think I was in love with him. I couldn't be in love with my brother!

The next morning when I woke up, puffy eyed, the first thing I had seen, staring back at me were those familiar brown eyes that were engraved in my memory, but stitched to my heart.

I tried finding my voice, trying not to cry, but I was cut off.

"Come with me." Zayn begged.

I didn't want to go anywhere with him.