Marked and Dangerous (On Hold)

Chapter 20

 Chloe Point of View comming up in either the next chapter or the one after it, can't wait right???? Please give me feedback on how I'm going with making convincing and unique characters, I know I need to start getting the rest of the boy's from 1D a bigger part in the story, but I promise you i will!

"De, what are you thinking?" Rose asked quietly, nervously, after around 10 minutes of silence in which I never took my eyes off of the blank TV screen. I didn't answer. I couldn't make my body work, I couldn't talk, I couldn't yell or scream, I couldn't get up, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the motionless TV.

I was trapped. Trapped in a body overflowing with ferocious, ravenous emotions ready to tear me apart from the inside. My physical body felt like a shell, unnecessary, a prison, easily broken. 

Chloe...

Chloe was with him, him. He knew she was his daughter. He had custody. He had turned the world and possibly her against me. Chloe was unprotected. He was looking after her. He could do whatever he wanted to her. He could hurt her. He could turn her against me. He could-

"Deandra" Deryk warned, he could tell I was loosing it, but I didn't hear him.

I could kill him, that filthy, heartless, psycho dickhead, how could he do this to me... again? Hasn't he fucked me up enough already without taking my darling, beautiful, gorgeous, innocent, happy, hopeful, adventurous, One Direction loving, daughter? No, it's not that I could kill him; I will kill him. I will kill him. I will send him to the depths of Hell to rot for his horrendous sins. He will be gone and he will never come back. Chloe will be safe. Chloe will be safe.

Suddenly, the glass table I was sitting at shattered to a thousand pieces. I glanced up to see Zayn standing, absolute outrage smacked across his usual calm and collected face. His hands were clenched into fists and he was breathing quickly as if he had just run a marathon. He looked like he was ready to kill.

No body moved for a few seconds, Zayn's unexpected rage had left everyone in shock. He stomped off towards the TV and punched it square on, sending sparks and chords everywhere and shattering the TV screen. 

"WHERE IS SHE? WHERE HAS THAT STUPID FUCKING LITTLE CUNT TAKEN HER? I'LL KILL HIM. I'LL MURDER HIM AND THEN I'LL BURN HIM. WHERE IS HE? I SAID WHERE IS HE?"

"Zayn! Zayn, stop!" Liam was up and wrapping his arms around Zayn, trying to stop him from taking his rampage and anger out on the computer next. Zayn effortlessly flung Liam off his shoulders and onto the couch, luckily not the wooden table otherwise we'd need to call the ambulance again and I have a feeling they might object to helping the new fugitives. 

Harry and Louis got up automatically to try and contain him and Niall went over to Liam to make sure he was ok. Zayn's eyes were wide with outrage and his hands were clenched into tight fists so tight that his bones were starting to show and his knuckles were turning white. 

"Quick! Get down!" Rosie flung herself on top of me, knocking me onto the ground just in time to miss a lamp spiraling towards us at 150 kilometers an hour. 

"What's going on? Deryk? Rose? Deandra? What's happening? Someone fill me in! What was that?" Kate was yelling through the phone, sounding like some kind of maniac. Everyone ignored her.

"Deryk! Stop Zayn now!" Rosie shouted before ducking again and pulling me down with her.

"Quick! Bedroom, now! Run!" Rose all but picked me up and carried me quickly down the massive, majestic hallway and into the giant room that apparently was a bedroom.

"De? Are you ok? Oh no you've got glass all over you! Are you ok?" Rosie fussed over me, flicking stuff off of my clothing. I just sat there staring at a piece of the expensive furnishing, in shock.

"De? De, talk to me please? Are you ok? De!" Rose came up to me and shook my shoulders savagely trying to bring my attention back to her.

"Chloe," was all I managed to choke out. "Chloe," Rosie sighed in relief and sat next to me, making the monstrosity that was the bed bounce up and down, and put her arm around me reassuringly.

", will be ok" she finished for me. "She's in the public eye now, she'll have carers looking after her 24/7, she won't be alone. At the moment, she is the safest of us all." I looked at her in surprise.

"Will be ok? Will be ok?! She's with him, explain to me exactly how that is ok?" I exploded, staring daggers at Rose. She shrunk back a little in freight but quickly recomposed herself.

"De, De look at me" she said firmly, holding my face gingerly in her fingers giving my cheeks the appearance of some kind of puffer fish.

"What?" I tried to say through pinched cheeks. 

"Shh, now listen to me. He has become an important part of the media now; he cannot put a foot wrong without being caught easily. It is customary that when a child below 6 is found after not being cared for appropriately-"

"She was taken care of appropriately!" I yelled at her. Rose didn't even flinch; she just put her finger over her mouth to signify my silence.

"I know you did. You know you did. Everyone in this house knows you did. Unfortunately, everyone in this house is now known as a fugitive, running from the law even though we did nothing wrong. Everyone thinks she was not taken care of appropriately, which means the authorities will want to watch her to make sure she has no long-term or short-term results from her earlier treatment. She will be going in for medical check-ups daily, possibly hourly, and he will be taken in for interviewing and interrogating, he won't be able to do anything to her. And if he does, she has a very big and convincing voice, I'm sure she would speak her little mind to those big police officers." Rosie smiled reassuringly and pulled me closer. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if she hasn't already. Everything will be ok, I promise"

"Don't make promises you can't keep,” I sobbed before breaking down into tears. I buried my head in her shoulder so that the rivers streaming down from my eyes wouldn't be visible to the world around me, of course Rosie could feel them, but she knew me well enough not to mention them. Tears meant weakness and I hated people seeing me cry. The only time I cry is when the memories impode on me. Unfortunately I've been showing this weakness a lot lately. 

But I couldn't contain them. They flew down my face without permission, so I let them. I let them pour from my eyes and collect in little pockets on Rosie's shoulder. I let the uncontrollable shaking take over me; I embraced the feeling of fear and worry for my daughter and cried it all out. Rosie just stayed there and let me cry on her and ruin her shirt. She patted my back sympathetically but she didn't say anything. A silent support, the kind of support that I needed.

We stayed like this for I don't know how long. Me crying into Rosie’s shoulder, Rosie sitting there comforting me, not caring whether her new shirt got wreaked or not.