Entangled | Zayn Malik

Chapter Eight

Why is it that when you're in a rush to get somewhere you get stopped at every damn traffic light? Like someone up above just knows that there's somewhere you need to be, so they laugh to themselves as they strike some kind of unlucky curse on you. Just because they can.

My mind is in overdrive right now. Who hurt him? Did someone break in? How hurt is he? He sounded as though he was in some kind of trance on the phone and I just sincerely hope he's okay.

The lights finally change to green and I speed through them, close to going over the speed limit. I reach the back road and I swallow down my uneasy feelings as I drive along it. I stop at the turn in and Zayn's mansion comes into view. That mansion. I park the car at the end of the street and sprint towards the metal gates. How the hell am I supposed to get in here? I glance at the panel next to it and see a small silver button so I press it and wait for a response.

"C'mon." I mumble to myself.

"Someone answer please." I start to shift on my feet, my impatience and worry growing.

"Fuck!" I shout a bit too loudly when there's no answer.

I take a step back and assess the gates in front of me. There's absolutely no way I'd be able to climb over them. Climbing was never my strong suit, and I'm petrified of heights.

I glance around to see if there's another way I can get in and that's when I see it. There's a little lane at the side of the mansion, so I walk through it and hope that I can find another entrance. There's a fence on the surrounding so I trail my hands across the panels as I walk, pushing lightly as I go to see if any of them are loose.

Jackpot. I find a loose panel and I push it with my foot so that it opens up and I'm able to squeeze through it.

I'm pretty sure I'm in the back garden as there's a massive piece of land around me and  a large shed at the back. I can't see a back door so I walk round the side until I'm at the front entrance. I knock on the door and wait for a response.

Why am I knocking the door? Obviously no one is here. Someone would've found Zayn if they were, right? Or if someone broke in, I doubt they're going to answer the door and greet me. I take a deep breath to control my nerves as I attempt to open one of the massive black doors. I cringe as it squeaks loudly and I can feel my face start to flush with embarrassment.

I slowly walk through the door and take in the scene around me. A grand staircase presents itself in the middle of the room, leading to the second floor. The ceilings are high with enchanting artwork etched into it. The floors are marble and beautiful paintings line the walls all around me. The scene around me is a total contradiction to the outside of the house.

I want to keep my mouth shut and look for Zayn silently - the last thing I want to do is bump into anyone. But on the other hand I feel completely uneasy about being here. Like you know that feeling where you're doing something you know you shouldn't be? So if someone does happen to be in here, then I'd rather not get caught snooping around like when that man caught me outside the mansion.

"Hello?" I say, somewhat loudly. I inwardly cringe again at the sound of my voice cutting through the silence.

"Zayn?" I speak a bit louder, but am only answered by silence.

"Shit." I mumble, quietly this time.

I'm in a mansion. A mansion with four floors. How on earth am I supposed to find him?

I look around me, noticing different doors and hallways and wondering where I should go first, and then it hits me. I'll phone him. Hopefully his phone isn't on silent.

I take my phone out of my pocket and press call, holding the phone away from my ear in the hope of hearing his ringtone. Music begins to play softly to the right of me, up one of the hallways. I quickly rush through the hallway, following the sound. The hallway is long and seems to be never ending. The floor is mahogany wood and there's a long, red rug in the middle of the floor with a gold fringe trim, leading the way up the hall. The walls are dark red with expensive looking paintings scattered on the walls. With every few steps I take, a small chandelier hangs above me with its crystals shining and glimmering in the light.

I get closer and closer to the sound and I realise that it's coming from the last room at the end of the hall. I wipe the thin layer of sweat from my hands on my jeans and I reach for the door handle and open the door.

And there he is.

Sitting on the hard, wooden floor, eyes closed, slowly rocking back and forth on his knees with his arms clutching his ribs.