Unfaithfully His [H.S. & Z.M.]

NiNe

The week goes by in agonizing pain. I'm lying here on the hard floor, cursing my destiny. I wish for the sun to never come up, because when Harry's awake he leaves no chance to abuse me with his words. The guard Carl brings me my food which is a piece of bread and some leftover curry, twice daily. The poor guy once sneaked in a piece of cake for me, risking his own life.

My second day here mainly consisted of Harry screaming at my face to quit crying 'cause he prefers me moaning instead and that I sound like a fucking dying cow which only made me cry harder.

In the evening when Harry disappeared, Dave made his appearance to me. Dave Styles, the father of Harry Styles came up with an offer to humiliate me further. He wanted me to sleep with him, if I did he promised to release me. I declined immediately, brushing off his wrinkled fingers which were raising my top slowly. Thankfully he left with an angry look.

The next morning I was whipped. They drugged me and when I fell unconscious, they pulled out the whip. The red marks on my body were a punishment for disobeying the boss.

Harry was beyond pissed when he saw me struggling to touch my body to the ground. He fought with the guards, claiming me his property and that no one but him, is allowed to touch me. That was the most horrendous day of my life, after my father's demise.

Harry didn't hurt me the following two days, instead he asked me how my pain was and suggested to sleep on the bed till the lashes heal. I took his offer, it was awful to sleep on the floor when my body was burning. He respected me and kept his distance.

That night I truly missed Zayn. I've never thanked him enough for whatever he did for me. I still remember the day I met him.

It was a regular day at the hell called school. I was always the kid who sits at a corner, with no friends to share her secrets with. It was our lunch break. I slowly began eating my food, my eyes looking for the bad guy who would spill my juice on me, just for fun. The guy named Zayn Malik. He was the most talkative 7 year old kid, given the most popular one.

"Well hello Arabella, I see you finished your juice already." He pouts lifting the empty orange juice carton.

"Zayn just go away! I didn't do anything to you." I said on the verge of crying.

"Hey Zayn, don't make her cry, she doesn't even have a daddy!" Someone said. Yes my daddy passed away, what's my fault? Why does everyone hate me so much? I start sobbing.