Harry POV
I tossed and turned all night, but I couldn't sleep with Zayn in the other room. It was a strange decision to bring a criminal under my roof like this but Zayn was special. I remember the first time we met. The owner of a grocery store called the police because he caught a kid was stealing food from the shelfts; the kid was Zayn. He was only sixteen.
I remember the look on his face when we asked where he was living and he said he had nowhere to go, it was a look of shame and sadness. I tried so many times to help him but Zayn is like a wild fire, uncontrollable.
I never understood my deep will of saving him. Since the first day we met, i always tried to help him but he never let me. Zayn is too proud to accept help from someone like me. Who I am to think I know what he went through anyway?
There's no words to describe how I would like to hurt all of those men that are hurting him, that are touching him.
The first time I realised that Zayn was selling his body I was so fucking upset. I was mad at him for the lack of respect he had for himself but after a while I understood that it was more complicated than that. He was a homeless teenager, his body was all he had to offer in order to survive out there.
I was thinking about this for what felt like forever when I heard the front door open and close. I knew he wouldn't stay till the morning but it hurt knowing he didn't trust me enough to stay at least this one time.
An hour later I found the courage to get up. I put a white tshirt and black sweats before walking to the kitchen, opening the pantry and taking out the can of coffee.
- No need for that. I already bring you some.
I almost had a heart attack. Zayn stood there in the middle of the kitchen holding two cups of coffee in his hands.
- I thought you were gone.
- I couldn't sleep so I... I can go if you want...
- No!! No, you stay... I mean I will drive you back.
He smiled and even if his face was bruised, he was still beautiful. I can understand why so many guys were asking for him on the streets.
- Can I ask you a question?
- You can ask... I'll see if I want to answer.
- Why are you... you know...
- A whore, you can say it.
I felt really uncomfortable with that term. For me he wasn't a whore. He was Zayn. I watched him from afar for the past four years. I watched him as he grew up from a young and scared kid to an emotionless man. I saw the light in his eyes slowly dying everytime we crossed path. He was a victim, certainly not a whore.
- Don't say that about yourself.
He smirked.
- Why? That's exactly who I am, Harry.
He moved closer to me. I was starting to feel nervous by the proximity.
- I'll give you the best fuck of your life if you pay me enough.
- Stop this Zayn.
I pleaded pushing on his chest with my hand and for a moment i could see hurt in his eyes. He took the money on the counter, his hazel eyes not leaving my green ones, he reached for the back door and left without another word. I sighed; disapointed in myself for thinking he would really tell me about his life. Of course, he would dodge the question and leave...
I made my way to work, stressed about Zayn. What if sometimes a guy beat him until he dies?
- You're alright mate?
Liam asked clearly aware of my strange behavior.
- Yeah I'm fine.
I stared out the window of the of the car; wishing I would see Zayn again soon and hopefully alive.
