The Fingersmith [A One Direction Fanfiction]

Chapter Thirty-six: Den of Lions

[A/N]  Okay, okay, okay, I know that I have been terrible and completely went cold-turkey on you guys.  I'm sorry, straight out, I'm sorry.  School's picked up and I just... ugh.  This is the first time I've been able to write in a few weeks, so please forgive any lack of quality in this chapter, I'm obviously rusty.  However, I really want to finish this story.  

Even if you guys start to hate it, and me, I want to finish it for myself.  Because I have a bad habit of being a quitter, I'm ashamed to say.  So I'm going to prove to myself that I follow something through; eventually at least.  

Anyways, please enjoy as much as you can!  The next chapter should be better, the promised action scenes with all the adrenalin, violence, and you know what-

I swear to you all right here: The first kiss of the story.  Not telling you between who though. 

Zayn:

“Em.  Em.  Look, I’m sorry.  We all are.  You never explained to us what was going on.  And I know, that you don’t know a lot; but all I know is that there’s some faceless group of people who you think want to hurt you.  Em, you’ve been on your own, and I know you’re perfectly good at taking care of yourself.  But this is serious, that guy was dead Em.”  I paused, still sitting and leaning my back against the bathroom door, hands playing with the lace on my shoe halfheartedly.  My one knee was bouncing a little, a nervous habit.

“You might have stolen a few things here and there, but you just have to go in with a good lawyer and we can get people to help you.  A witness protection program or something, you can go to the states or I dunno.  Just come out, okay Em?  Mrs. Kelly is still crying downstairs, she’s scared for you and very confused.  Look, you’re right, we’re all stupid and whatever, but please?” I finished my long speech, turning to look at the closed bathroom door with imploring eyes.

“Come on Em…” I stated again, this time standing and reaching for the doorknob.  When my fingers touched it, something unexpected happened though.  The door opened easily, like it had been unlocked.  Though I could have sworn when I tried to open it ten minutes ago it was locked and sealed shut.  Stepping into the room I said quietly,

“Em?”  It was dark and I couldn’t see, but I felt a cold breeze hitting me in the face.  Reaching along the wall my fingers found the light switch and I turned it on.  When I did, and the room was hit with yellow light the scene before me made me actually shout in surprise.  The sink and counter were covered in sticky red, that also dripped onto the floor, in a continuous rhythm. 

The shiny metal of the faucet was dulled by blood, and even the mirror had a few smears.  There on the counter next to the sink was a knife, one of the steak knives from the kitchen downstairs and there, in the bottom of the sink was the little bracelet, covered in blood, and broken, having been sawed through.  She must have cut her wrist in the process of getting it off.  Looking towards the open window, the curtains blowing in, I saw more blood on the second story windowsill. 

“Shit!”  I then shouted, hearing feet thundering up the stairs as I launched towards the window and stuck my head out looking around.  Tracks leading away led from the window, across the street, to a corner, where they then disappeared, crossing the shoveled road.