Picture Perfect (A Zak Bagans Love Story). [ Editing, and on hold. ]

Home?

Zak and I finally settled into our rooms and he claimed the first shower. I hoped he didn't take long. But then there's the hair. I sat down on my bed and stared over at his open, unpacked suitcase. I stood and started going through it to know what this guy was all about. Black, I thought with a smirk. I jumped back onto my bed as I heard the door to the bathroom swing open.

He stepped out, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair matted down, water darkening his already jet black hair.

"Did you find what you needed," he said motioning to the strung-out contents of his suitcase.

"I wasn't looking for anything in particular." I gave him a secretive smile, hoping he didn't realize what I had intended. I didn't know whether or not he was with my dad or anybody else. I didn't know who to trust. I didn't know what to believe anymore.

"Alright. I don't believe that but I don't feel the need for an argument at the moment." He stepped back into the bathroom and walked out in clothes except for the shirt.

I stood and walked into the bathroom, doing my thing. When I stepped out, I wrapped myself I a fluffy white towel and just stood there. I stared at my figure in the mirror. My fac had been covered in black bruises which now were a faded purple. My wrists still had rope burns on them. My ankle was still screwed up as well. There was blood all over me, on my knees, wrists, and face. I got a washcloth and started trying to scrub it all off but I knew it was pointless. Too much had happened for me to ever really forget.

They say, "with time, all wounds heal." Or something like that. They lie.