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.

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