Irresistible - Zayn Malik Short Story

Five.

5.

            four months later

A tear falls from my cheek as I stare at him. The little boy that so easily stepped into my life, or rather, was forced into my life. I remember him, regardless of what my imagination tells me. I remember him. And I still love him. I reflect on my decision to give him up and mentally slap myself. There had been other options. I can’t decipher the guilt that smacks me in the face now. It’s not easy harboring this secret, especially in light of all the events between Zayn and I recently. But I know one thing; I had a choice back then. But not anymore.

You always have choices, Zayn.

My own words stop me in my tracks. I have a choice. I still have one, and I can make the right one if I put my mind to it. I’ll tell him later. I’ll spill my story and apologize and kiss him and make it up to him in the best way possible. But for now, I need to stop thinking about him. The picture frame feels heavier as I take one good, last look at it. It’s me, my hair soaked with perspiration, the hospital gown clinging to my skin. In my arms lies the little baby boy, tiny blonde swirls cascading over the top of his head. He isn’t crying, surprisingly, even though the picture was taken just an hour or two after his birth. The biggest surprise in the picture is my expression. I am smiling. If only I knew now what I’d known then. That this little baby, this one major mistake in my life, would fill me with such tremendous regret.

I open the small drawer beside my bed and place the picture gingerly inside it. It is the only thing in the drawer, and I pray one day that I will open it up again to tell Zayn, to let it all out.

The guilt had been more fierce and forthcoming lately.

Flashback

It started with the incident just after rehearsal one day, about two months ago. We were walking through downtown, towards the park, our hands swaying together. Suddenly, Zayn was yanked away from me, and the sudden sound of punches took over. Into the alley to my left they moved, rumbling and scuffling. Tears started to form in my eyes as I watched them, unable to do much about the fight, not understanding anything. I knew it had something to do with Zayn’s drug dealing, only… I didn’t think about getting involved. Instinctively, I ran into the alley after them.

Zayn clearly had the upper hand at first, slamming his fist cleanly into the attacker’s nose. After a few moments, though, the attacker slammed him against one of the brick walls, just shy of hitting a dumpster. He got two or three good punches to Zayn’s face and one in the gut, making Zayn grunt in pain. “Stop!” I yelled frantically, grabbing the burly man’s arm. He reared back as if he would hit me, and that’s when Zayn slammed him away, down onto the ground. In anger, Zayn pounded his fist into the guy’s face repeatedly until I finally pulled him away and yelled at him. “Stop!” I screamed again.

Both men looked at me strangely. “This is stupid. Stop it.” My words were simple, to the point. I didn’t even know what they were fighting about. But it was stupid.

“You don’t pay up in two weeks, I’ve got your girl’s ass,” the man spat, looking at me like I was a piece of meat. He didn’t wait for a reply, only ducked out of the alley and left the two of us standing alone. Anger boiled over, threatening to make me say something I would regret later. But Zayn…

“Zayn,” I mumbled, pulling his arms to have him face me. I placed a small hand on his face and rubbed it with my thumb. He cringed at the sting of the small cut there. It was sadly quiet as I assessed his injuries, mentally deciding whether I should take him to a hospital or not. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

Surprising me, Zayn started his assault. “Oh my God, Mel! Why would you do that?”

“What? Save your life?”