CHAPTER 11
CLAIRE
"I always thought of myself as an unlucky boy," Zayn says into my ear as I slowly start to wake up. I curl my toes as he tightens his grip on me. It's like we didn't move since last night. He must've slept here too.
"Did you know my father had a drug problem?" he asks and I yawn as his stubble grazes against my neck.
"He hit me and my mother, too..." he says and a feeling of worry spreads around my gut. Zayn is sad... I don't want him to be sad. I turn around, and look him in the eye. He smiles at me, with a pained look in his eyes.
"Beat her to death, actually. He went to prison and I was tossed away to the system." His fingers runs through my hair, and I take a deep breath before leaning closer. Close enough to feel his heartbeat. It's amazing...
"I had 5 foster families, until I was 18 when I was thrown out to live on the street." He reveals, and I wonder why he's telling me all this. But I'm glad he's opening up.
"I moved to LA when I had saved up enough money, and I wanted to make it as a singer." I've never heard his singing voice before, I bet it's amazing. I travel my hand to his jaw, the tips of my fingers just reaching into his hairline.
"A couple of years went by with no luck, and I was stuck in this waiter job for a long time." He says, reminding me of when I first saw him. I never thought we would be here, but I'm glad we are.
"I always thought of myself as an unlucky boy."
"But then you came into the restaurant one night." His eyes widen and his eyebrows raise. A tear gathers in his eyes, and I wipe it away just before it falls on the floor.
"And when you smiled at me, I felt like the luckiest boy in existence!" His voice pitches as a few more tears fall.
"Since then, all I could do was think about you."
"Harry came in my way, he made you tell the world that I had assaulted you." He says with a laugh, shaking his head lightly.
"I didn't assault you, you liked what I did to you in that alley, didn't you Claire?" He says with a hint of hope, a few more tears brewing. He's sad. I want him to feel better.
"Yes I did, thank you," I mutter the words, and he smiles. Good, he's not sad anymore.
"And right now, with you in my arms, all tied up... I am the luckiest boy in the world."
He kisses me, and I press my lips against his. Soft... Lovely... Amazing, they are. I hope he likes kissing me.
"Do you love me?" Zayn asks as the corners of his mouth curve.
"Of course I do," I say, smiling. I get closer to him, burying my head into his chest, and he laughs. He puts his hand on my head, and slightly distances me to look me in the eyes.
"And you are mine?" he asks.
"Yes, I am yours." A tear falls out of my eye. Why am I crying?
"Not Harry's?" he asks, putting his hand on my cheek. He kisses me and waits for an answer. I look into his dark eyes, and I smile. I frown when I'm not able to answer. Harry...
I wake up.
My heart starts to race and my body writhes, trying to get away. He rolls his eyes as he understands what's happening, and puts his hand over my mouth.
"Shut up! God you're annoying when you're you."
He gets up and sits on top of me. I continue my screams, wanting this to end. I don't want to be like this. I can't be like this. He slaps me hard across the face, and grabs my it, holding my cheeks together.
"I'm coming back when you're pleasant again!" He shouts, and gets off me. He sobs as he exits, leaving me alone.
I cry to myself, curling up in the corner. I don't love him. I hate him. I wish he was dead. And the feeling of not being able to control my actions is the worst part. What... is happening to me? These 'episodes' has become longer, and the moments where I'm actually sane and myself, are fewer than the times I'm not. For all I know, I could fall into it again any second.
My eyes widen and my gut jumps as I realize; I could use this to my advantage. I can trick him... somehow. I can pretend I'm in... I don't even know what to call it. Trance? Trance.
I could pretend I'm in the trance, and get him in a vulnerable position, and then attack. Punch him in the gut, kick him between his thighs... Anything. And then escape.
"Zayn!" I try to sound needy as I shout for him. The door soon opens, and his bloodshot eyes look at me.
"I need to go to the bathroom," I smile, and he nods slowly. He walks slowly over, and unlocks the handcuffs.
"There you go, baby."
"Thank you," I smile at him, and he smiles back.
"Do you want to kiss me Claire?" he asks, and deep inside, I feel dread. But I have to force myself.
"Yes, may I?" I lean close, and he grins. He nods and waits for me to press my lips against his. I stare at them for a second before taking a deep breath and do it.
"Okay, you're back!" Zayn says happily, taking my hand. He takes me to the bathroom, and waits outside the door. I finish my business, and I exit.
He grabs my waist and doesn't wait for me to react, before pinning me against the wall, kissing my neck. His strong hand feels my body, from my waist down to there.
Did I... Want to escape? No... Why would I want to escape from this?
"Ah I love you," I breathe as he starts to undress me.
"I want all of you, now." He speaks, and I nod. His hand firmly placed between my thighs, warmth spreads through me.
"I want you like Harry had you," he pants.
I wake up.
But I stay calm. This is my chance. I press my body against his, and I knee him right between his thighs. He screams in pain, leaning over. He collapses on the floor, and my heartbeat accelerates as I run away, down the hall. I search for an exit, but I end up in the living room.
I still feel weak in my knees, but the shot of adrenaline coursing through me helps me to stay awake.
I frantically look around in every direction for the way out of this place, but to no avail.
"CLAIRE!" I hear Zayn shout from down the hallway, and my heart drops. No, no, no... I have to get out! I take a leap of faith and run through the door straight ahead. It takes me to a kitchen, and I see... over the counter... yes, there's an exit, a window!
I hear Zayn's angry footsteps approach, and I run. I grab a supply from the kitchen counter, and throw it at the window, shattering it.
I put my leg over the frame, feeling fresh air for the first time in a week. I leap, putting my other leg over, and I try to jump off the frame. But there is something is holding me back. Zayn's hands are in my hair. They soon pull back, and I fall back into the house, onto the floor. He gets to his knees, right over me.
"Alright, that's it Claire, you leave me no choice."
•
•
HARRY
"What the fuck are you doing here?" I ask, as I come to my senses. I saw him last night, right before I feel asleep. And he's still here. Sitting on the sofa, like this is some fucking hotel.
"I heard Claire was missing," Niall says, taking a sip of something. I walk towards him, and realize its scotch. I notice his messed up hair, his sore eyes... He's in bad shape. Almost as bad shape as me. He starts laughing suddenly, obviously a little affected by the drink.
"You must hate yourself," he chuckles, and I try to take his drink away, but he pushes me away, getting up from the sofa.
"No! How does it feel, huh?" He asks, a little unsteady as he stands.
"Knowing you are responsible for Claire's abduction? Knowing she might die? Knowing she's probably abused and violated every day by that scum? You're responsible! How does that feel?" He turns into a frenzied version of himself. His brows raise, and his voice pitches.
"You need to back the fuck off, Niall," I warn, my finger on his chest, keeping him at a distance.
"I am not the one who refused to talk to her for three months, Niall. I am not the one who completely shut her out of my life because she chose someone else!"
"What, like you wouldn't have?!" He shouts, a break in a voice escaping before his eyes well up.
"Whatever, Harry. It's your fault, and you know it, and you have to live with it."
"I'm gonna go to the police station to get an update Niall. Now when I get back, you will be gone, ok?" I say, and he rolls his eyes. He takes the glass to his lips and swallows the rest. He walks to the elevator and gets in it. I walk to the bedroom and change. I call Paul and he picks me up.
I have a weird feeling. Like something's wrong. But ugh, there is something wrong, Claire is missing. I get to the station, and I know exactly where to go to get to the detective's office. I knock on the door and she welcomes me in.
"Mr. Styles, are you going to come in for updates every day?"
"Yes," I say bluntly, and she nods, like she's impressed.
"Well, I have good news for you. We ran the phone number you gave us and it was connected to a Wyatt Render. Does that sound familiar?" She asks, and I dig deep. But I've never heard that name before.
"No."
"Thought so. Well anyways, we think Zayn Malik has stolen his identity. Probably killed him too, since he hasn't been heard from in a month."
"Wyatt Render has 5 properties under lease, and we have patrol checking them out right now. Two of the adresses are 1606 Steele Street, and 49 Hardesty Street." She reveals and my heart jumps out of my chest. Those are the adresses I found, and if those were among three other adresses... He's keeping her in one of the other properties.
"How long ago did you send them?" I ask, my body quickening, my hope awakening. This could be it.
"An hour. They checked every address except one, and I was planning on heading out right now to personally check it out." She smiles and I take a deep breath.
"I'm coming with you." I say, and she opens her mouth, ready to tell me no.
"I'm. coming. with. you." I say, and her expression changes. She examines me for a second, before giving up.
"Well alright then."
+•
"Here, take a gun," she says as we pull up, handing the heavy metal device over to me. The house is not as nice looking as the other houses. It looks a bit run down, and it seems as if it's being renovated.
"And don't tell anyone about it," she orders before getting out of the car.
"Do not make a sound once we get inside, ok?"
I nod at her, and we approach the entrance. She holds the gun directed at the ground, and kicks the door in with one kick. My heart beats fast as we move inside. This could be it. This is it. I could be seeing her any second. She walks fast into the kitchen, where a window has been shattered.
The house is quiet, very quiet. We move into a hallway, and we reach the final room, which is an office. In the middle of the room, there's a desk with a pair of handcuffs attached to it. Spread around the room are empty water bottles and boxes. She was here. The environment looks identical to the one in the other house he was keeping her. But where is she now?
"Stay here," the detective says, and moves out of the room, to check the others.
Please, please, please... be here, Claire. I don't know how much longer I can survive your absence.
I crumble to the floor when I see the detective come back. She shakes her head, and I turn around and kick the desk in. I relentlessly bash the wooden piece. I shout to fill the void, and the desk is soon crumpled pieces of wood on the floor. Stop, Harry. Last time you did this you had a heart attack.
"I'm sorry, Harry. C'mere, I'll drive you home," she says weakly, putting her hand on my beck, leading me out of the house. She was here... That son of a bitch is always one step ahead. I need her back.
I leans my head against the glass as we drive off. I may need to realize that I'll never have her back. No...
The thought is too painful to be real. I don't know if I'd survive it.
As the tall grey buildings pass, I think of the first time we met. She bumped into me at a party I was about to leave. And I'm not exaggerating when I say that it took three seconds for me to fall in love. I may not have realized it then, but I loved her from the start.
Claire Elizabeth Tomlinson. My girlfriend, soulmate, best friend. I'd like to add wife and mother of my children to that list. I will, one day.
When I get her back, I'm never letting her go. I know I want her forever, I even got an engagement ring. I wouldn't propose to her now. She's still 16. I bought it because I know I'll give it to her one day. I have hope. I'll always have hope.
We stop in front of my building, and I get out. I thank the detective for her hard work, and I'm ready to go upstairs and sleep off another defeat. I open the big glass door myself, since the doorman isn't here. Probably on his lunch break or something.
I get up to the flat and I take a shower, and the apartment seems weird somehow. Quieter than usual. I put on a robe and get into the bedroom, staring at myself in the mirror. It takes a while for me to notice a huge wooden box laying on her side of the bed in the reflection.
I turn around, walking idly towards it. What is that? Who put it here? I run my fingers over it, and push the lid off.
The air is knocked out of my chest, and the blood drains from my head. My world falls apart, and my heart is ripped in half. Her lips white, her nails blue. She's dead.
Claire is dead.
-.-.• .-• ...• -.-• .• -•