Neon Red [Order The eBook] [Zayn]

33

(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It's important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)

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Love set you going like a fat gold watch.

Silvia Plath – Morning Song

Back at my apartment, I tossed a few shirts and a couple of pairs of jeans into a carry-on bag and almost tore my room apart again searching for my passport. That is, until T found it under what used to be the dresser. Now she sat with me on the couch in the lounge with all the lights off. We hadn't bothered to turn the telly on either, as silence felt appropriate for now.

It was even quieter than it had been a G's house between her screams. For some reason, my heart had convinced me I needed to get out of New York as fast as humanly possible. Away from these for walls. Away from the familiar sights, smells, and sounds. At this point even the sight of my own bedroom was a trigger, ensuring I wouldn't be sleeping there any time soon. It housed ominous vibrations that were rewiring my mind each night, leaving me more and more unhinged come morning. In two or three weeks' time, I didn't know who I'd become or what I'd be capable of.

I urged T to book me a one-way ticket. I was glad to run anywhere-but-fucking-here with zero inclination of when I'd be returning or if I ever would. Fuck this place. Things hadn't been right since the first envelope arrived back in March leaving me in bits on the floor, and I had been kidding myself pretending everything was fine after the initial payment. Deep down I was fully cognizant they would be back with more demands and I should've broken the new to Haz. Now it seemed everyone on the planet knew except for him, and that was entirely my fault. Plus, I couldn't stop thinking of the ledge of my rooftop. The gentle relief to be had by simply letting go. A quick fix all. The end of me.

"Sweetie..." T tentatively set her hand atop mine. I flinched, then shifted to be free of her, unable to stomach the notion of being touched. I was truly repulsive. Like I might taint her if she stuck around too long.

"T...y'know, maybe youh oughtta call it a night?" I wagered, refusing to look her way. I lit a cigarette and exhaled the smoke through my nose. "I've kept youh out long enough as it is. M'not payin' youh overtime, yeah?" It was a lousy attempt to break the ice. Her laugh was half-hearted.

"About that..." she began, scooting closer and trying to meet my eyes. "I'm not going anywhere, babe. I booked myself a ticket too—"

"T—"

"Nope! Nope, I don't wanna hear it! I'm not letting you go off alone on this one. It's way too freaking much, dude. I mean, look at you?? You're not yourself...you're breaking down left and right...you're destroying things! Z, sweetie, this isn't you. And I'll be damned if I sit here on my ass while you leave, then later get word that you've done something awful to yourself over there...out of my reach. Hell no, not on my watch—"

"I can't have youh be a part of this," I finally looked over at her, brow furrowed. Throat taut. Stomach knotted with trepidation. Unmovable trepidation. Somebody needed to tell me it was ok. That this would end soon. But no one could give me that guarantee, not even Allah himself. Still, I pretended to do the noble thing and kept her at bay.

"This shit's actually gettin' dangerous, maan. The way they sent out that new picture—" I stopped and took a shuddering breath, rubbing a hand down my face.