Criminal {A Ziall Love Story}

Chapter 3

He never came back that night.

I woke up to blinding light. The sun burned my eyes. I yawn and sat up to stretch. But I couldn't. What the --? I looked down and my hands were tied. They were tied down to the headboard with rope. I screamed with rage. "Zayn!!" No one came. "ZAYN!!" I screamed a little louder. Was he still out? God, where could he be. I kept screaming hoping someone would hear me. "Someone get me out of this!" I moved my hands back and forth, but all it did was give me burns and blisters. I sighed sitting there. I realized I wouldn't be getting out for awhile. I then heard a car door slam. I leaned enough to see it wasn't a car I recognized. I kept my head down. The door opened and I did my best to not make a sound. I pulled the ropes enough to get them to allow me more rope. I quietly sat on the floor, listening. Whoever it was had just opened the door. They walked around then stopped. Then the door opened again and walked in. "Where is he?" a deep voice said. "I don't know. This place looks like it hasn't been touched in years.." a thick accent said. I could tell they were police or investigators. The men continued to walk around looking at the shack. "Check in the rooms, he could be anywhere." the deeper voice said.

My heart froze. He could see me. I tried to move closer to the closet, but the ropes pulled me back. I winced with pain. I knew if I tried hard enough, I could slip them off. It would hurt, but I could do it. I decided to just yank my hands out of the ropes and deal with the wound later. I took a breath, and pulled as hard as I could. The ropes came off hard taking piece of my skin with it. I now had gashes in my hands and wrists, my knuckles were bleeding and I couldn't handle the pain. "Oww.." I said. "Smith, you hear that?" the thicker accent said. I froze. Jesus, I'm so stupid! Now with free hands, I slipped into the closet, hiding behind Zayn's motorcycle jackets and plaid shirts. I heard footsteps getting closer and closer to his room. 

I opened his closet just a slit to see the officer walking around, looking at his things, picking things up. He stopped at his dresser and picked up the picture of him and the girl. My heart got hot. "Don't touch that picture.." I whispered. The man turned around to the closet. He set the picture on the bed. I hid back behind the jacket and shirts. The man came closer to the closet and opened it. He was so close I could smell his .99 cent cologne. I gagged inside. He walked around the closet pulling clothes apart from the rack to examine them. He was now at my face. I held my breath. He started to pull the jacket off where I was. "Smith!" the deeper voice called out. "Steiner, wants us back at the station, we'll come back around 7!" "Alright, fine!" He yelled back. He walked away from the closet and out the door. They both mumbled something to each other then got in their car and drove down the rock road. I sighed massively and got out of the closet. I looked at my wrist and wanted to cry. I need to find a bandage.

I went into his bathroom to dress my wound. I finally found gauze and an antiseptic for my cuts. That's when I heard it. A door slam. I threw everything into a drawer, switched off the lights, and ran into Zayn's room. I slowly looked up and noticed the familiar black car. My eyes dropped. Yes. "Honey, I'm home..!!" the familiar voice said. He came into the room and saw me crouched by the window. "What are you do--" his eyes dropped to the picture frame on the bed. He walked over and slowly picked it up. I closed my eyes. Damn. He looked up at me. "Zayn.." I started.

"I told you not to touch it. Why is it on my bed? What were you doing with it?"

"This isn't my fault. I didn't even touch it." He threw his hands in the air.

"Oh," he said. "So you're suggesting that the picture just magically flew to the bed?"

I stepped forward. "No, okay, the police moved it when he was looking around your room. I didn't even --"

He stopped me. "What police?" He started packing clothes and such frantically now.

"I don't know, the police. Maybe they came cos you have a hostage and you attempted a robbery. Any other guesses?" I stared at him, waiting for some kind of respond. I sighed. "Don't tell me. You have a record." He looked up.

"Uhm." He looked around. "Can you just get moving? We're going."

"Going where?"

"If the police came here looking for me, they already know where I am. Therefore, we're leaving." He rushed me to get his things. I reached to grab the frame, but refrained. Let him do it, I'm not getting yelled at. I got into his car and sighed. When can I go home?

He got into the car and started it up. We drove away from the house and onto the highway. The car ride was long and silent and awkward.

"What happened to your wrists?" He asked.

"Your doing, thank you. I really appreciated waking up to my hands tied up."

He laughed slightly. "I didn't want you leaving. I knew you would try like in the parking lot and at my car. But my knot wouldn't give you that much. What'd you do to it?"

"I had to hide from them, so I had to yank the rope off. Killed like a bitch, but I didn't want them to find me. It still hurts though.." I laughed a little and so did he.

"Well, here. I can help." He pulled over and turned to me. He kissed my lips. It was warm and satisfying. He used passion and care. He swiped his tongue across my bottom lip. He was incredible. He lasted like cigarettes and mint. The two wouldn't seem to mix well, but they were incredible. I didn't want it to end, I felt like I was high. The rush was invigorating. He pulled apart and pecked my lips one last time.

"There. You're not thinking about your wrists." He smiled and pulled back onto the road.

He was right. I wasn't thinking about my wrists.