Why were these people after Harry and me? Why did they want to kill us? Why take pictures of us and watch us? And if my theory was right, why kidnap Zayn? Were they really the ones who shot at us back at that hotel room?
Each day that passed and each new theory written on Harry's window only made me feel more insane, and we still hadn't decided what we were going to do. Should we search for the last target? Should we dig deeper and start searching for the people who started this whole list thing?
Maybe track the email or actually email them back... we hadn't thought about that before.
Zayn said it was dangerous because we literally didn't know what we'd be walking into, and the fact he had no memory of what happened to him was also a setback. He could've seen who kidnapped him and now we'd never know... unless his memories suddenly came back.
I wish my memories could be taken away, though... just delete every single memory with my father. I'd like that a lot, maybe it'd stop hurting.
I never thought that thinking so much could make you so tired, I felt like I had fought five people and taken a beating.
So that's why I needed to relax, even if just for tonight... even if tomorrow would be just as stressful as today.
I needed my brain to work and if I kept overthinking this much, I would probably combust So just fuck it.. and that's how I ended up smoking weed with Zayn.
We were all in a terrible mood and stressed, plus Zayn still needed to rest more than any of us. Head injuries were dangerous and Harry was worried about him, so we were observing. Concussions were a tricky thing, I honestly hoped he'd continue to get better.
Harry was also better... he wasn't doing anything stupid so his wound was healing very well, he wasn't limping or feeling pain anymore, he even stopped taking the pills. I changed his bandages this morning and it looked good enough.
I also knew he didn't need my help to change them anymore but I did it anyway... I had to touch him.
Sleeping in the same bed as him was kinda feeding that stupid need I had to feel his touch, though.. he was very shameless about pulling me closer by hips and roaming his hands around my body, but we didn't do anything.
We kissed a few times but it was quick, I still didn't know how to handle this on top of everything else that was going on in my life.
Harry and I were in that weird grey area that we didn't know what the fuck was going on between us, but I literally admitted that I needed him... and he stayed. Did that mean he needed me back?
"You like him." Zayn suddenly spoke up, carefully inhaling some smoke before he looked at me.
His words surprised me and I furrowed my eyebrows, not understanding what he was talking about. My brain was almost a bit too slow now, and I was really fucking glad this was working.
"What?" I asked, smoothing my hands up and down my bare thighs. The cotton shorts I was wearing exposed most of them and I could see the many white lines and scars that graced my body... they felt so smooth, though.
I really liked my scars... each one of them told a story, and they represented who I was. It was a reminder of my strength, and I really needed that at the moment.
"Harry. You like him." Zayn smiled at me, his amber eyes were a bit intimidating and the wing tattoo he had on his neck distracted me. It'd be cool if it moved, I'd like it if my snake tattoo could move.
I looked away from him, poking the head of the snake inked on my skin that was peeking through the leg of my shorts. I really liked that we weren't leaving the house because I could wear comfortable clothes again.
