Midnight Memories (1D)

Chapter 22

The walls have been reduced down to their studs, and I can see to where the explosion had come from, which appears to be the room across the hall. None of the furniture is still there.

"Oh my god." I whisper.

"Are you okay?" Zayn asks me.

"I think so. Are you?"

"Yeah, I think so, but um, there's uh a closet on top of our legs. We have to wait until authorities get here." Zayn says.

I start laughing hysterically.

"What?" Zayn asks, sounding concerned for me.

"Nothing, it's just- it's just my luck isn't it?" I keep laughing. "First I get deported. Then I get sliced up by glass. Then my wound reopens and everyone sees met insides. THEN a rapist explodes the hospital, and a freaking closet is my biggest worry right now!" I keep laughing, and Zayn eventually joins in.

It dies out after a minutes and things get serious again.

"What do we do?" I ask. "Should we try to move it?"

"No." Zayn says. "We don't know if it's holding pressure on something or not, we should wait."

"And burn to death? I don't think so." I argue. "How 'bout we lift it a little, and if birthed of us feel pain then we continue to mov sit off of ourselves so we can try to find a way out?"

"Sounds like a plan." Zayn agrees. "Wait!" He shouts, as I'm about to try to move the closet.

"What?" I look back at him.

"Cover your mouth with the blanket so you don't inhale any smoke." He tells me. I do as he says and try to lift the closet.

I succeed in lifting it about an inch above our legs. "Any pain? Or blood?" I ask.

Zayn leans around me to look. "Nope I think we're good!"

I proceed to lift the closet up a little more, and once I get it high enough, Zayn slips out from under me and helps me move it all the way off of us.

"Hey, your face is bleeding- are you okay?" Zayn tells me. I lift my hand to feel for what he's talking about.

"Oh that was scabbed over the scan probably just fell of its fine." I tell him. Thank god, I thought it was serious.

The one bad thing about having my hair pulled back is that everyone can see my scars. The majority of them are on my back and legs, but there's a couple on my face/neck. And I'm not exactly proud of them.

"You sure?" Zayn asks.

"Yeah, I'm okay." I tell him. He cocks eyebrow, not believing me. Ugh, now I have to explain it to him. "It's from my last set of foster parents. I wasn't exactly their favorite, if you know what I mean."

I stare at the floor. I can't bear to make eye contact with him.

"Hey." He tilts my chin up to look at him. "We all have our own baggage. This is yours. And you know what?"

"What?" I ask.

"That's what makes you beautiful." He whispers.

My eyes tear up, and I bury my face in his chest as his arms surround me. No one's ever said that to me before. Not even Joe. We stand there for a minute, and then I pull away, saying "We should get out of here."

"Yeah we should. If only I knew how." Zayn mutters.

"Huh." I say, looking down.

"What?" He says, turning back towards me.