Taken [Zayn Malik]

ch.23 The man with the quiff

My chest rose and fell violently as I stared and stared into those brown eyes that looked so dark and hopeless now. I just couldn’t believe that it was really him. It was really Sebastian.

“Tar?” he whispered. He looked more closely at my face, studying my stupid grey eyes and my straight black hair.

I nodded as my heart burned deep in my chest. Sebastian was alive. He’s alive. And Zayn- Zayn lied to me this entire time. He’s been lying through his perfectly white teeth and his pretty, black lashes.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, clouding my vision. Sebastian reached for my hand and I grabbed onto his. My tears slipped down onto Sebastian’s hands, diluting the dried dirt and blood on his fingers.

“Baby, how did you find me?” he gasped. He took my face in his rough hands and rubbed away a stray tear.

“You’re alive” I whispered.  I couldn’t say anything else. Absolutely nothing else but: you’re alive.

“Yes” he nodded.  “But how did you get here?” he asked more loudly now.  He looked down at my perfectly white corset and my underwear and my soft, clean skin and my nicely primed braids and-and.

I closed my eyes and shook my head violently as flashes from that ship and the wreck and Zayn all choked my mind.

“The ship started to sink and you were with Jimmy on the raft and-and”

Without another thought, I pressed my lips to Sebastian’s, my real boyfriend, my real, living, normal boyfriend.

Sebastian didn’t protest my urgency. He held my face in his hands and made the kiss so long and so deep that I nearly lost my very breath. But I didn’t care and I didn’t dare complain.

“Baby” Sebastian shook his head.

I kissed his cheeks and his hands and everything that was bruised and dirtied and caged. Caged by that lying bastard, Zayn. He probably wasn’t even cursed to begin with. He was making it all up just to get me to stay with his lonely, horny ass.

“Give me your pearl” I shook my head in disgust. The bastard only wanted a little love slave to keep his princehood company.

“Sebastian, how long have you been locked up?” I asked hesitantly. I almost didn’t want to know. It would make me feel that much guiltier.

Sebastian shook his head and ruffled his blonde hairs to the side. He nodded over at the wall to show where he had kept markings on the wall.

I stared at the rows and rows of lines and my throat closed in on me. I was a prisoner, a stupid, blindly obedient prisoner for –for

“3 months” Sebastian counted.

I nearly dropped to my knees. Sebastian grasped my waist and prevented me from falling flat on my face.

He crouched down and held me carefully through the iron bars.

I curled up into a ball of guilt and tears and sat on the wet, murky floor. I hoped my legs were stained by the dirt and mud on the stone and my hair was disheveled.  I wanted to be just as broken and dirty as Sebastian so that we could be equals again and I would feel less guilty for enjoying my time with Zayn, the beautiful, psychotic bastard that had locked me up and confused my heart with his chants and his spells.

“Baby, it’s ok” Sebastian patted my back gently.

“No it’s not, Sebastian” I cried.

Sebastian kissed a few tears and smoothed my hair back.