"Please,-" He moaned into my flesh. His tattooed hand caressed my just below my ribcage, creating butterflies in my stomach, "Or is this as close as you'll let me taste?"
"Remember this feeling," My breath hitched and I felt like I was loosing balan...
"Where is my phone?" I shouted loud enough for my door to not obstruct the sound. The walls that were barrier to my breakdown were thin enough for my screams to be heard.
All I could feel was panic.
Only fragmented memories came back. I was too wasted to close the window curtains, enabling harsh streams of light to break into the room. I rubbed my eyes to break up and haze that still remained. My face felt stiff and dry. I must've fell asleep with makeup and sweat caking my skin.
"Who did this?" I cracked open the doors so my voice coasted across each marbled surface. I demanded to be heard.
"Clio, this is no time to be shouting," My father's round-ish body protruded from a doorway on the other end of the upstairs hall. His voice matched my volume, despite his plea for me to quiet down.
"Who did this?" My voice broke, holding up a thin piece of brown paper.
It had been left on my bedside table, presumably right after I'd passed out. I felt sickened at the notion of someone entering my room as I laid unconscious. I was completely compromised, and somehow my incompetency was met with this lingering threat.
Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
How have I found a trail, a jagged brown trail of fragmented papers finding me in my darkest times.
Only dry heaves pumped out of my lungs and I desperately tried to gasp for air. The insurmountable layer of panic began to thicken and seep into every inch of my body. Was I being targeted? What had I done to deserve this?
The fact the intent behind these pieces was unknown only fueled my fear. There wasn't a moment were my peace felt singular. It was like a pair of eyes always followed me. Even in moments alone, I had something following me.
Zayn easily could have taken my inebriation as a fatal opportunity to use me. I was lucky he didn't. I shouldn't have to feel fortune at the absence of someone's malice. It couldn't have been him who left this, he had no motive. He'd only show me kindness.
"You did this," I bursted through Livia's door to abruptly disturb all privacy.
"I have no time for you, Clio," Livia resumed her work sitting at the vanity, the golden sunlight reflecting off the mirror. She held a tweezer between her fingers to pick and preen across her face. A soft white robe clung to her freshly washed skin.
"You've been doing this," I waived the shred of paper to get her attention. I stood in the doorway like a child begging for their parents attention. She didn't pay me any mind. Not a single second of eye contact.
"Clio, I could't give less of a shit. I'm getting married in an hour," She replied.
"Jesus Christ," I muttered. I almost forgot that was still happening.
