Escape Route (Decode Sequel)

Chapter Eleven - Losing It.

“Sort of,” he replied hesitantly. “Maybe not quite as bad as this though. I’ve never been taken to another country, none of us have. This is some messed up shit.”

“I want to get out of here but I also want to sleep for a week.”

“The throwing up should only last a day.”

“We’re supposed to start the plan or whatever scheme they have created today.”

“Maybe we can postpone it.”

“Okay, while you go sweet talk the Italian fucking mafia I’ll just stay here and projectile vomit up my guts.”

“I’m just going to blame your grouchiness on the sickness and ignore it.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be a bitch.”

“It’s alright, I’ve met a lot worse than you when they’re not even sick,” he chuckled, I tried to smile in return but I didn’t have the energy to do that. “I’m gonna see if I can get the attention of someone and ask if we can change the plan.” I nodded apathetically and leant my head back against the cold tiles on the wall. My eyes shut promptly after and I focused on my breathing hoping to calm down some of the nauseous feeling.

I heard Zayn practically breaking the door of the adjacent room with not a lot of avail. I could barely focus on anything other than breathing in and out. His hammering against the door seemed pretty quiet to me but I could predict it wasn’t. I couldn’t understand what he was shouting through the door either, my brain wouldn’t concentrate on the words being yelled in the distance. 

I held my breath tentatively when I noticed the shouting and banging had abruptly stopped. I tilted my head so my ear was angled towards the doorway. I heard heavy footsteps accompanied by an aggressive voice. I looked up when I heard voices above my head. My legs were kicked without warning and a hand slapped me around the face. Carlo was knelt down next to me, a hardened stare on his face. 

“She’s fine.” He spat sadistically, his words directed at Zayn who looked aggravated.

“She can barely keep her eyes open!” He yelled back.

“Put these on.” Carlo ignored my sick state and Zayn’s shouting and threw a set of clothes at the both of us. I looked down at the black material in my lap and almost wanted to jump up and dance at the sight of clothes other than the hideous pink dress I was still adorned in. Carlo promptly left the room, the door slammed shut rattling the walls behind him. He was a lot friendlier yesterday.

“I’m sorry, I tried he just didn’t care.” Zayn sighed as he began getting changed right in front of me. It was hard not to stare at all the scars and bruises across his heavily muscled back, some of the scars looked deep but old. He shrugged on his new clothes with ease before crouching next to me.

“It’s alright, it was a long shot anyway.”

Zayn pulled the pile of clothes of my lap and picked them up, scanning them all vigilantly.  He didn’t waste a second before he started sliding my legs into the leather trousers. I was sweating wearing a dress, I didn’t know how I was going to cope in leather trousers and a black, thick denim jacket. Once he reached over my knees I took over before things got too awkward. It took a lot of effort and energy to hoist myself fully into the trousers. I yanked the dress straight over my head and pulled the white t-shirt I had been given straight on. I slumped back against the wall again after, I wasn’t even concerned Zayn and I had watched each other undress and dress again, we hadn’t done anything dubious technically.