Envy

Twenty Six.

Twenty six.

December.

I look at my watch and fiddle with my fingers, not knowing what to do all by myself at Maxwell’s. Its 6 pm as Violet has let me go off early, and I texted Zayn to meet me when he's done with his shift. The taxi driver had looked at me bizarrely when I told him to drive me here, for Patrick told me it wasn't on his way to take me to Maxwell’s.

I stare at the setting sun and speculate, what could Zayn, possibly help me with? All I want is the god damn gun, for I don’t care about his stupid story, I’m still damned, and ready to shoot my brains out.

Seeing Niall in that magazine shattered me. He looked so happy, happier than he ever was with me. He looked exactly like he did when he was with Fiona.

Why? Why didn't he ever look at me the way I look at him?

“Thanks for coming” a voice behind me drawls. I turn around and see Zayn approaching me – donning a pair of skinny black jeans and a red hoodie – “Didn't think you'd show up”

“Neither did I” I mumble truthfully.

He sits on the wet grass beside me and lights up a cigarette, and doesn't speak.

“How are you going to help me?”I ask fracturing the silence.

“Give me five months, and I'll give you the gun. Just five months…” he says.

“No! You promised you'd give it to me”

“I don’t trust you with it right now”

I stammer, “You lied”

“I didn’t lie. I'm going to help you, and then give it to you”

I pull on my hair barbarically, “What's this help you keep speaking of?”

“Where did you come from Marisol?” he asks instead, not replying my question.

“Courtwall…”I whisper, I want to go back more than ever now. I want a familiar face.

“You’re running away from something” he glances at me, “or someone” he states.

I don't reply. He seems to know already, maybe he saw the papers.

“This someone fucked you up didn't he?” he asks and I nod. There’s no use in lying, what Zayn is saying is true. Niall fucked me up and I can't find anything in me to fix myself anymore. I can't.

“We're going to fix that” he argues my thought.

“You can't fix me” I hold back my tears, “no one can. I'm too fucked up”

“Then we'll try. Get up!” he rises and helps me up, stepping on the cigarette, killing its light away, “punch me”

“What?” I ask confused, what has gotten into him?

“Punch me kid, it's not like you've never done it before”

“I was angry then” I back away from him, looking around me, there's absolutely not one soul in here.

“Well, get angry!” he demands. I stand there and do nothing, just stare at him. He advances towards me and pushes me, and I fall on the grass.

“What the fuck?” I yell and get up on my feet and push him back, throwing punches at his chest.

“Good, let it out” he screams.

I let it all out. With all the forces I have deep within me, I channel them, and I hit him. Punch after punch after punch. His solid body doesn't seem to back away, he's like a human punching bag that won't fucking budge. But I'm feeling so much better, as I sob out tears, and punch.