so this is Ashleigh again:) and this is kind of a preference... i got asked by my friend to do one where one of the boys is a murder and murders you, but i thought it was a bit depressing... so instead, i've written it where he's the murderer but kills someone else and (Y/N) will come into it in a little while. I wrote this a little while ago so yeah:)


Her eyes opened. She yawned and breathed softly. She felt a tear run down her face, felt it dissolve the salt of other tears. But her mouth was dry and hard. Her cheeks were forced out by the pressure from inside. The something in her mouth felt as though it would explode her head.  But what was it? The first thing she thought when she awoke was that she wanted to go back. Back into the dark, warm depths that had surrounded her. The injection he had given her had not fully worn off yet, but she could feel the pain coming in the slow beat of her pulse. Where was he? Was he standing right behind her? She held her breath and listened. She couldn't hear anything, but she could sense a presence. Like a leopard. Someone had told her once that leopards made such little noise that they could sneak up right behind their prey in the dark. They could regulate their breathing so that it was in tune with yours. Could hold their breath when you held yours. She was certain she could feel him. What was he waiting for? She exhaled again and at that same moment was sure she had felt breath on her neck. She turned around, hit out, but was met by air. She hugged her knees, tried to make herself small, to hide. Pointless.

The drug wore off. The pain lasted only for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to give her the promise.

The promise of what was to come.

The circular object placed on the table in front of her was the size of a snooker ball, made of shiny metal with small holes. From one of the holes came a red wire with a looped end, which instantly made her think that only bad could come from it.

Then she stopped thinking about anything except the knife that had just been pressed against her neck. And the gentle voice that had told her to put the ball in her mouth. She did what she was told. Obviously. With her heart thumping, she had opened her mouth as wide as she could and pushed the ball in with the wire left hanging outside. The metal tasted bitter and cold, like tears. Then her head had been pulled back, and the steel burned against her skin and the knife was pressed flat against her neck. The room was lit by a beige lamp against the wall in one of the corners. Apart from the lamp, the room contained a wooden table, two matching chairs and two people. Him and her. She felt a leather glove as a finger had pulled lightly at the red loop hanging from her mouth. And the next moment, her head had seemed to explode. The ball had expanded and forced itself against the roof of her mouth, her teeth, her cheeks and her uvula. But however wide she opened her mouth, the pressure was constant. He had examined her with an emotionless expression. A little smile showed satisfaction.

With her tongue she could feel the holes in the object placed in her mouth. She tried to say something. He listened carefully to the sounds coming from her mouth and just nodded when she gave up. He had taken out a syringe and the drop on the tip of the needle had glistened in the light. He whispered in her ear: 'Don't touch the wire.'

 'Who- Who are you?' He managed to understand as her voice quavered.

'I babe,' he began, 'am Zayn Malik.'

She listened to her own terrified breathing as she blinked in the darkness.

She had to do something.

She placed her palms on the seat of the chair, and pushed herself up. No one stopped her. She walked with tiny steps until she hit a wall. She felt her way along to a smooth, cold surface; the metal door. She pulled at the handle. It didn't move. Locked. Of course it was. What had she been thinking. Was that laughter she was hearing? Or was it a sound coming from inside her head? Where was he? Why was he playing with her like this?

Do something. Think. But to think, she would have to get this metal thing out of her mouth before the pain drove her insane.

Springs. The ridges were spring-loaded; they had jumped when he pulled the wire.

'Don't touch the wire,' he had told her. But why not, what would happen?

She slid down the wall until she was sitting on the cold floor. She wanted to scream again, but she couldn't. Silence.

There was no escape. There was just her and this unbearable pain.

'Don't touch the wire.'

If she pulled it, the ridges might go back into the ball, and the pain would be lessened.

Her thoughts ran in the same circles, over and over, again and again. How long had she been here? Two hours? Four hours? 10 minutes?

If all she had to do was pull the wire, why hadn't she already? Because of the warning she was given by a psycho? Or was this just part of his game? Being tricked into resisting the temptation to stop this unnecessary pain? Or was his game about ignoring the warning and pulling the wire and causing... Causing something awful to happen? But what would happen? What is his game?

Yes, it was a game. A brutal game. And she had to play. She had no choice Her throat was swelling up from the pain and the ball; she was sure she would soon suffocate.

She tried to scream again, but it turned into a cry, and she blinked and blinked, stopping herself from producing any more tears.

Her fingers found the string hanging from her mouth and pulled it until it was tight.

She pulled the wire.

Needles shot out of the circular ridge. They were eight centimetres long. Four shot through her cheeks on each side, three into the sinuses and two out the chin. Two needles pierced the windpipe and one in the right eye, one in the left. Several needles penetrated the back part of her palate and reached her brain. But that wasn't the main cause of her death. Because the metal ball couldn't move, she couldn't spit the blood out of her mouth. Instead, it ran down her throat and into her lungs, not allowing oxygen into her body, which eventually, led to a heart attack and lack of oxygen to her brain. In other words, Ariana Maria Myers drowned.

 And I was watching the whole time.

'Zayn... Wh- What are you talking about?' Your voice shakes. Had your boyfriend really just admitted to killing an innocent woman?

'I killed her (Y/N). And I'd do it again.' He said.

'Stop it Zayn, this isn't funny, okay.'

'I'm not joking. I'm a psycho. I told you because I don't want you to be scared to be with me. But I do love you (Y/N). More than anything. And I'll continue to love you no matter what you do. I'm giving you the choice. I'm going out for 10 minutes. If I come back and you're gone, I'll understand. Bye princess.' He kissed you on the forehead and  walked out of your bedroom. You heard the front door close as you tried to process what you had just heard. Zayn wasn't a psycho. Yeah, maybe what he did was a little... But he was loving and kind and gentle and caring. Despite everything you've just heard, you love Zayn. You glanced over at your wardrobe, thinking about whether to pack a bag and leave...

10 minutes later, Zayn walked back into the flat you shared. He walked up the stairs slowly.before turning your doorknob. The door slowly swung open.


'I love you, Zayn. I'll love you no matter what. I'm shocked, of course I am. But I'm not scared. I am going to stay at (Y/BFF/N)'s house tonight, because her boyfriend dumped her because of this girl, Sally-May...' You continued to babble on to try and have a little normality back. You didn't want to talk about that anymore; not tonight anyway.

You continued babbling on when Zayn smiled, walked over to you and kissed you. You kissed him back before pulling away.

'I love you, (Y/N)'

'I love you too, Zayn.'

I hope you guys liked it... Sorry if it was a bit graphic!