{twenty-six}
trapped
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i knew i was being watched from the second that i sat down beside natalie and her friends. it had been day two of this and i still couldn't really fathom it yet.
it had been a little too pleasant -- enough so that i felt uneasy with how comfortably i had fit in amongst strangers. for the first time, i experienced what it was like to not eat alone at lunch, usually spending the half-hour trying to find acceptance with my pathetic loneliness. it seemed far less complicated when i could just blend in amongst a crowd of loud teenagers. even if i'm on edge, wondering when they'll realize that they're sitting next to someone who knows something they don't.
that while they're chattering ceaselessly about patrick's disappearance, i'm wondering if there's someone else to blame. i'm thinking about a boy sitting in a jail cell for a crime he possibly didn't commit and the clever killer admiring their handy-work from afar. the sequence of days leading up to mandy's death and if her murder was completely pre-meditated or just simply unexpected. regardless of whatever happened to her, it was the product of someone in a deep state of rage. someone who wanted to make her hurt, someone who wanted to send a message.
i think of the days after the incident when i sat across from the lead detective, jane melrose. what she said to me rings through my ears without relent, like a pounding, reopened wound. 'there's someone out there, thinking they got away with it.' her piercing gaze as she said it to me, as if she could sense something i couldn't at the time. i wondered why -- now, of all times -- that her statement sticks to my chest with revelation.
the hair on the back of my neck rose softly, tickling my skin with a shiver. i didn't have to guess who was staring at me from across the cafeteria, my body already relived the influx of panic. everyone was hysterical with the new information that spread through our town like a disease so infectiously disastrous. the school administration left everyone on bated breath, waiting for someone to announce to us what the fuck to think. yet they never did, the principal never acknowledged the arrest that happened on monday, or the sudden departure of the police's presence throughout the campus. no one explained why all the posters of amanda seymour's face vanished overnight and why no one wants to admit out loud that this isn't just some bad dream.
that this is in fact happening and that we have spent the entire month walking amongst someone who's capable of murder.
suddenly, the school looked like nothing had even happened. everything went back to normal, without any source of understanding or instruction on how to feel. patrick was thrown away in a prison cell awaiting trial and imminent misery. everyone else was left in the background to move on and get over it. except, what the school seemed to have forgotten was that ignoring it didn't quieten down the whispers. it only made everyone louder.
however, unsurprisingly, zayn is without concern.
none of this piques his interest, rather — he seems even more detached from any sort of facade. he doesn't bother to drum up any image of charm or, lure any newcomers into his grace. it's as if, from my gaze through the corner of my vision, that the boy is completely lifeless. zayn sits amongst people he doesn't know, playing with his lighter and sucking on his gums without relent. i know he's drawn blood in his mouth, from the way his teeth gnaws into the fleshy parts of his cheeks. i also know he's burning holes into the side of my face, not knowing whether he wants to avoid me or tear me away into his tight grasp.
if i could describe zayn in this moment of time — for the first time ever, it would appear that he's tense. his knee is bouncing under the table and he is jittery with either nervousness or his habitual wrath. i just couldn't really tell which.
"it's pretty weird that the principal has gone so quiet." a blonde boy with friendly eyes is interrupting my train of thought. he is shoveling food into his mouth, unable to share eye-contact for more than half a second. the kid couldn't be any more boyish if he wanted to -- with his red hat that disguises the acne across his forehead and the tattered soccer jersey covered in grass stains. i try to scrape my mind for his name, as he continues to blather, "it's like it never occurred to her that a kid from this school could've killed her favorite student."
"i just don't get why people liked her so much." kris, the frisky halfwit, cuts him off, rolling a cigarette tightly and amateur-like. she's so clearly envious of the lack of attention on her, trying everything in her might to rear the limelight back onto her trashy display. she tucks her dry, damaged hair behind her pierced ear and snorts, "she was just pretending to be some goody two shoes. when, really, at the end of the day, she was just some overconfident slut with good grades and an ugly boyfriend. who -- let's all be clear about this -- had a huge dick. that's the only reason she dated him."
it rings alarm bells through me to stay away from her, as some of the guys in the group chuckle at her rant. she seems viscously insecure and volatile, so when she lifts her hooded, painted black eyes at me — i immediately evade her. she notices this and it makes her even angrier, as natalie kicks my leg under the table gently. it's like kris has lost a competition within herself -- that i, a male, doesn't find her misogyny attractive. that by hating on other girls only makes her appear as unconfident and obnoxious. briefly, i gape at natalie and she's already mouthing at me, 'don't.'
kris sticks her cigarette in her ratty hair for later and starts to bite at her abused nails, eating away at her self-consciousness.
"can we not talk about the cock size of our friend who's probably sitting in a jail cell right now cuffed to the toilet?" the blonde boy, i now remember as gus, is begging the ruthless girl in front of me. he doesn't really fit in with this group, like me, he's a little too clean-cut and virtuous. i start to remember him from the party and how he seemed like patrick's bitch following his every command. i obviously wasn't the only one patrick was trying to woo over, he obviously knew a lot more than what he was giving on. he could tell his time was limited and that he needed support — or else he had no hope. yet even with this gullible boy's desperate loyalty, there was no escaping what was to come.
"i'm just sick of this bullshit about amanda seymour being an angel. she was as fucked up as the rest of us." kris says, grinning and enjoying riling up her friends, "honestly, she had it coming."
natalie cracks and gives in to what she wants, shooting daggers and sharp insults, "the fact that you're jealous of a dead girl because she's getting all the attention is enough to make me want to punch your lights out."
kris doesn't falter from her friend, announcing, "i'm just saying what everyone else is thinking."
"that what? because she was a little promiscuous that she deserved to be killed like that?" natalie interjects, angry and ready to incite some sort of scathing attack on the stupid, ridiculous girl seeking out provocation. it only makes me like the feisty brunette more, because she's brilliantly quick and unafraid of judgment. she doesn't mind if she comes across as assertive or hostile, because she's not concerned with being liked. without any hesitancy, natalie continues to confront the blonde, "if we're following that logic then -- kris, i hate to break it to you -- our time is ticking. any day now we could end up dead in the woods for being such hoe-bags."
kris rolls her tired eyes, flipping her middle finger at her so-called friend, "oh shut the fuck up, natalie. stop being such a fucking feminist."
i can see the steam rushing from the brunette's ears almost instantly, her fury flooding her pretty green eyes. it's as if she's startled by her friend's remarkable stupidity, unable to grasp the reality of the situation. she takes a moment to choose her words and then states, "if feminism is standing up for a girl who was brutally murdered by her ex-boyfriend, then so fucking be it."
"you seemed fine being around patrick a week ago. hell, i'd say you were even friends." kris taunts, unable to back down from the fight. "so what happened then and now -- did you suddenly get a conscience, or have you always been a righteous cunt?"
suddenly, their bickering seems a lot less playful and i'm sinking into my seat with apprehension.
"fuck you. i was never friends with that piece of shit--" natalie is livid and before i can even blink, she's standing up from the table. i think she's about to climb over the bench and strangle the blonde, but instead, she has the self-control to step away. natalie reaches out and touches my shoulder faintly, as i turn to give her my direct attention. her eyes plead with me, as if she doesn't have long before she's about to lose it. she begs, "--liam, please get me away from her."
something inside of me rattles with how much disruption this nightmare has caused. the havoc that has been played on these teenager's lives and how much distrust there is amongst them.
natalie doesn't need to say it twice before i'm getting up and directing her away from her friends. kris screams out another cheap insult and natalie keeps her head down, grinding her teeth and marching forward. i don't realize we're holding hands until we're outside of the cafeteria and her fingers are so tightly clasped around mine that i'm starting to feel numb.
whether it was the feeling of being observed attentively from the other side of the room by someone i feared or, how deliciously suffocating it felt to be in natalie's sweet presence. i couldn't really say which.
she continues to drag me down the hallway as i stumble behind her, trying to keep up. gazing at her short hair as it cascades down her neck and the way her fleshy hips peak through the hem of her shirt. i'm so wrapped up in how much i like to look at her that i don't realize she's stopped walking. i almost slam into the back of her, completely distracted by trying to read the fraying words on the back of her t-shirt.
our hands split apart and i'm flashed back to reality.
luckily, before i make a fool of myself. i halt to a half-confident stance. she wraps her arms around her torso, chewing on her bottom lip nervously. natalie is completely cute and intimidating all at once, so much so that i can't even control the hammering of my heartbeat when i speak up. i sound like a pussy, stuttering and trying to hold it together so that she doesn't lose interest. but she doesn't seem to mind, it appears as though i've met a teenager who isn't repulsed by someone's weakness.
"are you okay?" i wonder aloud, without sounding too much like a question. it doesn't sound judgmental or intrusive, rather it feels like it has slipped out of my mouth like a deep whisper. anyone else wouldn't have noticed it, except her.
her head suddenly bounces up towards my line of vision and away from the floor. she looks like she's trying to calm herself down, as she squeezes her fingers in a fist and chews on her bottom lip. however, before i can try to decipher if she twitches her nose when she's upset — suddenly she shakes her head as her answer. it's the most honesty i've seen in a while, so i don't take it for granted. i'm stepping closer to her, as if it's a dream and i'm chasing after it.
her pretty lips tug up into a smile, announcing softly in the empty hallway, "you're really strange, you know that?"
i don't even mean to, but i'm grinning at her, "i'm aware."
this sudden sense of safety cascades past my shoulders by just being with her. the warmth in her eyes feels like what i would imagine an embrace would be like — uncorrupted and natural. a way of expressing affection without any underlying unease, just an act that is made without any complications and suspicion. it's something i'm not entirely used to, so i crowd into her heat with fixation, trying not to get close enough to burn my fingers.
she feels it too, i can see her pulse stuttering across her lithe neck. her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip and i find myself reeling.
"in a good way, i mean -- there's just something about you." she corrects herself, even if she knows that i'm not offended. she leans forward and presses her index finger into my chest and i feel like i've been struck by an arrow. her eyes gape into the cavity she touches, as if she can see right through my flesh like a paper mache. she lets her nail wander down my stomach, fluttering her emerald eyes back up to mine, "in here, somewhere, there's something really different."
"what is it?" i can't help but wonder, wanting to ask — what do you see that i don't?
natalie feels even closer than before and staring into her eyes feels like falling through a tunnel without an exit. i'm floating through the green pools of her eyes, her simple beauty twisting around the veins inside of my arms. sinking herself into my bloodstream and flowing through my body with a new sense of comfort. she feels like a drip of morphine, the serenity of someone so good weighing over my body heavily. she holds her small hand over my chest and suddenly i feel alive again -- hazardously so. every twitch that vibrates through her fingers feels like a tug at my heart, like the vessels in my chest might combust with the pressure. i'm not used to this sensation, i'm not used to being seen.
however, she doesn't hesitate. instead, she just breathes out and pierces the rumble of my heartbeat. her voice is a rhythm i can't get enough of, thrumming through me as she says, "something that i like."
and suddenly, in all the miserable years of my life, i'm standing across from someone who i don't even have to try to understand. i just —unequivocally — get her. she looks at me with the crinkles in her eyes and the freckles on her cheeks and somehow, deep down, i feel like she gets me too.
we're not even really touching, yet i feel her warmth twirl around me like a woolen sweater sewn together tightly. our gaze never loses sight of each other, instead, we stand in this moment and inhale how special the feelings are that churn through us. it feels like something beyond us, something that i can't describe or phrase properly that would make any sense. it's beyond me and the teenage girl standing inches away from my face. it's starry universes and sparkling galaxies away from anything my small world can understand. she's just a girl and i'm just a boy, yet we're staring at each other as if there is something within us that is worth being worshipped.
"natalie..." i murmur, needing to kiss her.
however, before i can finish my train of thought, suddenly i feel like my eardrums have burst.
there's a siren that shrills through the halls and that is so loud that i stumble backwards. it sounds like a scream that mottles my vision with tiny pink spots, staring into natalie's equally as shocked expression. i'm not sure if we're bewildered by ourselves or the high-pitched alarm that is playing over the intercom. either way, we're gaping at each other and wondering if we shared the same moment before the fire alarm broke us apart. however, we don't really have time to question it because suddenly the hall we stand in is invaded by countless high school students.
"a fire?" she murmurs, trying to figure out why we're all suddenly having to evacuate the premise. there's something inside of me that tells me it's something entirely different.
immediately we spot her friends rushing towards us in waves, amongst hoards of other students talking ceaselessly over the top of one another.
they're all perplexed and shouting, some of them are laughing and playing with one another. the brutish boys that i recognize start to push and shove rowdily, and suddenly natalie and i are detaching far enough to lose sight of one another. it feels like i've been swept up by a tsunami as i try not to get trampled in the hallway, following the crowd moving towards the exit of the school. the blonde boy, gus, is beside me and giving me a knowing look.
"what the fuck is going on?!" is the last thing i hear from natalie before kris wraps her arm around her shoulder and drags her away. she disappears in the crowd and as the fire alarm rings through the hall, my body throbs with it. i'm trying to push ahead to find her but she's gone and i'm stuck in a swarm of sweaty teenagers nudging and rushing out of the exit. the sound is ear-splitting and my heart feels like it's being squeezed inside of my chest. i'm unable to breathe and i'm starting to lose control of my hands as they begin to shake by my sides.
it seems my irrationality has taken over me completely. i'm terrified of losing natalie in the hordes of nameless people. because deep down, there's a part of me that wonders if when we're apart — could i lose her as well?
suddenly my body is thrown to the side as i try to make an escape through the glass doors. i can't even tell where i am because the air is knocked out of me and i'm beginning to panic. all i can see are shoes pounding across the ground and hands grabbing at one another, before my arm is seized and pulled on. holding my breath, suddenly my wrist is tugged back and my body is engulfed in ice. i feel like choking as i squeeze my eyes closed and feel myself getting yanked away from the exit. the sound is deafening and i'm unable to get a hold of myself. all i can do is stumble back and let my body get yanked back by a pair of cold hands clasped around me.
the further i get from the exit, the more aggressive the tugging gets by the strange force i can't fight. i can't even bring myself to turn around and see who it is that is snatching me away. i just hoped it would stop, that it had been someone who wanted to cut the queue or one of patrick's friends wanting to hassle me about natalie. yet the more i stumble away from the crowd and the colder the fingers feel twisted around my wrist, i realized that my wishful thinking has landed me in the possession of someone with a vendetta. the hands wrapped around me are far too rough and threatening to be anyone i didn't know. it's all far too familiar to even bother lying to myself -- i knew exactly who it was.
before i can even get my wits together and stop the vicious handling over me, i'm shoved into a dark closet.
terror trickles down my legs and before i can catch my breath, the fluorescent light above me is switched on. the shrill of the fire alarm outside seems like a distant memory once i can see who it is in front of me. i press my back into the wall and my hands flatten against the cement, searching for grounding. i don't try to fight this, even if my skin singes with the burn of his eyes on me. my body caves in on itself and my lips are sealed, not daring to utter a word first.
if i was to be completely honest -- it doesn't come as a shock that zayn has pulled me into a closet with him. rather, it's the look on his face that silences me.
the teenaged boy looks feral and wild, like a caged animal that is now completely unrestrained. he's breathing hard, his chest rising and falling as he stands on the other side of the tiny storage room. it's dimly lit and we're both panting, watching the dust particles fly in the air between us. he glares at me as if i have betrayed him and somehow — somewhere — guilt pours down my neck. i'm trying not to cower from him, i'm trying not to submit, because that is exactly what he wants. zayn is cracking the bones in his fist and my pulse is hammering so fast that i feel like it might burst from my chest.
i didn't reserve the right to be surprised by zayn's fit of anger. i knew what i was getting myself into. because in all the time i've spent trying to understand zayn, i figured out how he works. i know what goes through his mind when he's been set off. he thinks i've been playing with fire, and maybe i have.
"what the fuck are you doing?" he questions me as if i needed to be punished. yet, i don't falter -- because i can't. this wasn't about winning or finding the advantage. this is about letting go of my fear, even if it costs me everything.
i ask, loud and clear, "did you pull the fire alarm?"
i wasn't sure if i was trying to distract him, i wasn't certain about anything in this moment. because as i stare at him in front of me, i wonder if he's capable of hurting me. despite all the time we've spent together and the moments where i've fallen in love with him over and over again, i realized it had all been a fantasy. that wasn't the person i'm standing across from now. this is someone with an inability to feel empathy and a killing indifference to slice you up raw. he doesn't pretend to be charming or graceful, instead he stands across from me with dark, venomous eyes and lips curled into a sneer.
"i asked you god damn question, liam." his voice is achingly low that i almost shiver.
everything inside of me is telling me to run, to fight for my life, and get out of here. but i don't, even when he takes a step closer and i feel his breath on my neck. he sees nothing but red, his teeth bearing into a sadistic smirk. if i didn't know any better, i would call him a monster. but i'm no fool — i know what i've done. i had openly been out in the hallway with a pretty girl and he didn't like that — and now, i had to pay. of course there was some part of me that wondered if i did this on purpose. that maybe i wanted to see what it was like to resist him and his hold over me. however, now in this moment alone with him, i'm afraid i can't save myself from something i started.
he cocks his head to the side, his eyes empty and his instinctual brutality taking over. i'm not sure what's left of us when he mutters, "what game are you playing with me, huh?"
"you dragged me into the janitor's closet for this? what are you thinking?" i say and it's a genuine question. how could someone who never loses control stand in front of me like a rabid animal, unable to step down? he glares at me as if he has nothing to lose and it only causes my throat to close up. i think of how jealous he had been about mandy, forever ago. feeling sick at the thought, the way he had twisted his fingers in my hair and pulled at my scalp as if i was a rag doll. how he had kissed me with ownership and made me promise to him that i was his. i can't say that i regret being brazen with natalie -- because i enjoyed every second of it.
but now, as i gaze at zayn and the threat in his eyes, and i can't help but see the similarities between him and my father.
"i'm thinking that you fucked with the wrong person." he lets his eyes roam over my body, tongue running over his bottom lip. he has that same black, lethal look adorning his beautifully sinister face. he sways closer to me with shadowy desire eviscerating inside of his deserted eyes. leaning over me and using his hands to trap me against the door, something inside of my sternum ruptures. heat swells throughs my ribcage as he murmurs in my ear, lips brushing past my jaw, "you have no idea what the fuck i'm capable of."
a flame of dare tremors through my chest and suddenly i can't help the impulse to challenge him. one of his hands hover down the wall and towards my thigh, scorching his fingers into my legs. i part them willingly and find my hips begin to arch forward against his. he is powerless to the greed he has over me, far too consumed with the very faint graze of our bodies below. the thing is, that's what zayn had wrong this entire time -- he doubted me for far too long and needed a wake up call.
"neither do you." i quake, feeling like i've got him where i want him. as he hovers between my legs and lets his mouth trace the side of my neck, his slight stubble scratching my flesh softly. i don't need to do much to have him lulled into my embrace, as i reach up and sink my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. ever so gently, i whisper, "i don't think you're aware of how much i really know."
zayn doesn't disregard that statement this time, rather he scoffs and fades away from my grasp. the look on his face is furious and i'm captured by him against the door, his jaw grinding together dangerously. he's quick to reverse his hunger for me to fury, as his hands stay secure on both sides of my body leaning against the exit. i feel like i've pulled the lever to a grenade and i'm holding it against my chest, ready to let it blow us apart.
"what do you know, liam?" he taunts me, grinning wickedly and letting our bodies drift closer together. "what the fuck do you know?"
everything i've learned and the things i've seen, it shatters inside of me. i don't know why it's taken me this long, why i refused to see him for who he really is. why i don't shrink from him, as i declare aloud without any hesitation or ambiguity. it slips from my mouth before i can even stop it, before i can save myself — "i know that you're a sociopath."
it hits him, more than what he'd like to admit. yet it doesn't stop him from sizing me up, as if i had fallen for the bait. asking, without a beat, "and what does that make you?"
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