Hello, all you lovely people! Ah, so first order of business is to ANNOUNCE that it's the second day of NaNoWriMo! :D If you didn't see, I'm participating this year, and depending on how on-schedule I am, updates for this story may be rare until December. Just want you all to be aware! Shoot me a message or something if you're participating as well, or just like to watch the chaos! x) We can all be excited and spazz about it together!
Alright, now on this chapter... sigh. Honestly, I think it's not great. I know, I know, why the heck did I post it then? Well, I'm already two days late on the last update and I feel bad, and I promised I'd update, so.... here I am. Up until the second half, I think it's fine, just... bleh. I don't know...
For all of your shipper hearts out there, I will tell you there are major Zana moments and feels (for you Tumblr people that understand "feels), throughout this chapter!
Let me know what you think by dropping a comment and/or voting? I really appreciate all the feedback you guys give me, you're all amazing and beautiful! :)
Dana
“Oh this is excellent Dana, just excellent!” Emma’s practically bouncing in her chair as she turns my half-filled Memory Jar in her hands, peering at the slips of paper approvingly.
“They’re mostly useless things,” I attempt to point out. “Favorite color, best subject in school, that kind of thing. Not really a lot of use now.”
Emma chuckles and sets the jar down on the table between us. “How many times do I have to tell you?” She asks, a teasing tone to her voice. “It doesn’t matter. A memory is a memory, and if you’re remembering small things like that, it’s only a matter of time until you remember the bigger, more important things.”
I glance over at Zayn and see that he’s nodding approvingly, but chewing on his lip, as if he’s nervous or distracted about something.
I admit I’m kind of thankful that neither of them will read my memories. I don’t want Emma gushing about my larger, more confusing memories, or for Zayn to worry, as he always seems to nowadays.
“And you’re doing your exercises?”
I nod. “Yes, of course.”
Sometimes I can’t help but wonder if Emma realizes that I want my memory back just as badly as she does, maybe even more so. But I don’t have the heart to tell her anything like that and risk hurting her feelings; her heart is in the right place after all.
“Excellent,” she claps her hands together and stands. “After just a little over a month, look at how well you’re doing!”
It’s been a month already? My mind can’t help but reel sometimes, at how quickly time can fly. Then again, for me, it may seem that way only because I don’t have a lot of previous memories to take up the space in my head.
I suppose I have some of the larger ones though. The ones about the reporter/ fashion expert, and the man and boy under the bridge. I still spend a lot of time wondering what ever happened to them all, and if they still remember me as little as I do them.
Jolting out of my thoughts when Zayn stands and taps my shoulder, I see Emma smiling at us both like a proud mother. When I look closer, I see that she even has the glisten of tears in her eyes.
“You’ve come so far Dana,” she sighs. “And Zayn has been there every step of the way, hasn’t he?” She turns her gaze to Zayn, who gives her a half-crooked smile and nods.
“I’ve been doing my best,” he says, though he swallows immediately afterwards, as if he has a lump in his throat that’s making it harder to speak.
Emma beams before awkwardly asking, “Would it be weird if your therapist asked to hug you?”
At that, I can’t help but smile and stand, moving over and wrapping my arms around the woman, her short hair tickling my face. “Thank you Emma,” I sigh, truly grateful for what she’s doing.
When we pull back from each other, I turn and see even moody Zayn with a slight smile on his face.
“I guess we should go then.”
“Of course, of course,” Emma says quickly, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. “Have a good time until our next session, and keep remembering!”
Smiling, Zayn and I walk out to the parking lot together and slide into his car.
“I think that went rather well, don’t you?” He asks as we pull out onto the street, suddenly much more chipper.
“Definitely,” I agree. “Emma’s sweet.”
Zayn nods and reaches over with one hand to switch on the radio. Instantly, the car is filled with the soft twang of a guitar and the harmony of voices.
“I won’t let these little things slip, out of my mouth. But if I do, it’s you. Oh, it’s you, they add up to…”
“Hey, “ I smile. “It’s your new song, isn’t it?”
The corners of his mouth arch into a smile. “It is.” He confirms.
“You can’t go to bed, without a cup of tea. And maybe that’s the reason that you talk in your sleep…”
As the song continues, I can’t help but grin. This is by far, my favorite of all their released songs. This is the most genuine, meaningful one, that really makes people feel loved and special. It’s the type of song that could brighten most anyone’s day.
“I think I like your songs that sound like this, the best.” I sigh, sinking back into the car seat, and closing my eyes.
The next moment I hear Zayn’s voice, singing over the recording of him and the other boys. “You’ll never love yourself half as much as I love you. You’ll never treat yourself right, darling, but I want you to. If I let you know I’m here for you, maybe you’ll love yourself as much as I love you.”
Sighing softly, I snuggle deeper into the seat. Between the lulling motion of the car and the soothing voices of One Direction, I can’t help but feel safe and comfortable.
Having Zayn with me this whole time, I don’t even know how to express my gratitude. I never- at least since I woke up- thought someone could care and love me as much as he does.
I’m lucky to have him as a brother.
“I won’t let these little things slip, out of my mouth. But if it’s true, it’s you. Oh it’s you, they add up to. I’m in love with you, and all your little things.”
-
Sitting cross-legged under the heavy, warm mattress of my bed, I still can’t help but shiver, one night later.
The wind is ferociously blowing and thrashing the trees and rain around, causing it to splatter across the window in many different directions. Thick, dark clouds cover the normally luminous light of the moon.
For some reason, the storm makes me uneasy. It just started not ten minutes ago, and since I noticed the peaceful sound of it hitting the ground below, I still couldn’t help but feel troubled.
Shakily, I reach over to my nightstand and grab the little iPod Zayn gave me. Nervously unwinding the headphones and placing them inside my ears, I turn on It’s Time by Imagine Dragons.
Anything to block out what’s to come.
Suddenly, the whole room lights up in a flash, in perfect synchronization with one of the loudest claps of thunder I’ve ever heard.
A small squeal escaping me, I turn up the volume and bury myself further under the covers. When another boom and flash erupt, I duck my head underneath as well, as if that’ll make it disappear.
I don’t know why this bothers me so much. But now that I’m under here, I realize that I can’t hold my hand steady, and I feel as if I’m entering into the absolute lowest pit of hell. Right now I think I’d rather be trapped in a house with a serial killer than be trapped here, surrounded by the bursts of lightning and thunder.
“Help me,” I groan to no one, as the next shock hits.
A sharp sting then runs through my head, so painful I feel as if this very lightning just struck down into the core of my brain.
“I’m sorry I can’t hang out today Chris,” I grumble. “I have work.”
Chris gives me a sad smile before pulling me into a hug. “It’s fine Dana,” he says. “I understand. You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do, right?”
I nod and smile my thanks. “I’ll see you later then.”
“See you.”
Driving a few miles west to a local grocery store, I can only groan. I absolutely hate my job. It’s really the vilest thing in the world, something that I would definitely not do if I didn’t have to.
“Back room again,” Max, a tall, gangly young adult who just so happens to be my boss, says as I walk in, not even sparing me a second glance.
“Great, thanks.” I can only mutter under my breath, tying my blue apron around my neck and waist.
No one understands that the back room is really only half actual food that we can sell to the public, and half rotten, hidden trash that other employees are too lazy to take out to the dumpsters in the back. Point number one in my list of reasons for hating my job.
After a five-hour shift of finding beef jerky so old that it's fused into one piece and a gooey, moldy mess that could easily be anything from a banana to a pile of nuts, I drive to a small apartment complex.
The only reason I hate this place now is because of the woman, Jane, leaving. Ever since she left, the man, David, has been a wreck. He completely gave up on work about a month ago, and only comes out of his room to use the restroom or eat, so now I’ve become the practical owner of the crappy apartment we now live in.
The younger boy is distant now as well. He’s confused and doesn’t entirely understand why everything is happening, but he knows it’s bad. Taking after David, he’s beginning to become a creature of his room as well, and it leaves me feeling as if they all left, and only empty shells remain.
“Macaroni and cheese, yum.” I grumble sarcastically, grabbing a bag of instant foods from the trunk of my car and walking up to the door of apartment 20C.
I can’t help but notice the sky; changing from the dull grey color it usually is, to a darker, charcoal colored black.
“There’s a storm coming, Harry.” I murmur to myself, quoting the beloved Harry Potter series. “And we all best be ready when she does.”
Moving inside, the house is pitch black, and barely a soul even appears to be breathing. The boy and David are both in their rooms, barely even rustling the air around them. If I didn’t know better, I’d think no one was living here at all.
I wish they would come back to me. I still don’t quite understand my relation to them, but I know it’s my duty to help them, and I just don’t want to be alone anymore. I can’t help them if they don’t help themselves.
Boiling water and pouring in the noodles, I can’t help but feel more and more sorry for myself by the second. This place and work have both become hell, and even with my group of friends at school, I can’t help but feel completely and utterly alone.
What did I do to deserve something as terrible as this? What did I do to deserve hating my life and myself, for everything that’s gone wrong? Why did she leave and tear everything apart?
“What’s happened to my life?” I whisper as my vision begins to blur.
Blinking hard, I quickly wipe away the tears with my sleeve, but they continue to fall endlessly. Suddenly, I can’t hold it in any longer and find myself full out crying over the cooking noodles, my hands shaking as I stir.
A nearly white light fills the dim room, along with a tremendous roar of thunder.
I can’t help but jump, feeling even more vulnerable and terrified than I already do. The horror of my situation begins to swallow me whole. The thunder reminds me of the booming voices of Jane and David fighting, right before she left and never looked back. The lightning is like the sharp sting of realizing she’s gone, and watching David and the boy completely fall apart around me… and there’s nothing I can do about it.
The only reason I can hold myself together is because of those two. I don’t know why, but something itches at the back of my mind, telling me that the only motivation for not breaking down completely is them.
For the rest of the night, I only can only eat and feel sorry for myself; David and the boy always come out when I’m not around. I see myself becoming more pitiful by the second, more so than I ever thought possible.
“I don’t know what to do anymore.”
Another clap of thunder sends me flying out of the memory, causing me to whimper and clutch the sheets around me until my knuckles turn white.
The throb of pain is fading quickly; it’s got to be a clue, a type of two second warning that I’m going to remember something larger, something more important.
I’m not sure what happened, or why. But from what I can gather, that memory has got to be the reason I’m so afraid of this thunder and lightning, and the present storm is what triggered it.
“Hell, I can’t be alone anymore,” I curse, wrapping my blanket tighter around myself and bolting out of my room as another boom sounds.
Running down the simple, short hall suddenly feels like the longest journey of my life. Fleeing further into the dark, with the thunder stalking after me, appears as an even more terrifying prospect now, despite knowing that Zayn’s at the other side.
“Suck it up and just go,” I clench my teeth and run as fast as I can, coming to the other end of the floor in only seconds, but what seems like endless minutes.
“Zayn?”
“Dana?” Zayn sits up in bed; his hair tousled and sleep filling his eyes. “What’s going on?” He mumbles. “Is everything alright?”
Shifting nervously from foot to foot, I pick at a loose strand on my blanket, avoiding eye contact. Now that I’m here, I can’t help but feel embarrassed at being afraid of a little storm, even while being in a safely protected house. “I don’t like the storm.”
When I risk a glance up, I see understanding on his face, just as a flicker of some other emotion vanishes. “Right, I’m sorry. I know you don’t like them, I just fell asleep before it started.” He says, though he sounds mildly unsure of himself. “Come here.” He stretches his arms out with a friendly smile, and only then to I realize his chest is completely bare of any clothes.
All of a sudden, I find myself blushing at the thought of this suggestion. He’s inviting me to sleep with him… while he’s half naked.
Bloody hell Dana, I stop and think. Don’t think of him like that, he’s your brother for goodness sakes!
Thinking of that only makes me blush more, and that’s when I realize he’s still waiting expectantly. About to debate whether I should just brush this all off and go back to bed, another flash and boom frightens me into his bed so quickly, I think I may have startled him as well.
“Gee, let in all the cold air why don’t you?” He jokes as I curl up into a ball against him, beneath the covers.
“Sorry,” I laugh nervously. “I didn’t mean to. I guess the storm just kind of freaks me out a bit.”
He only shrugs and wraps his arms around me, pulling my back against the warmth of his chest. “I was lonely anyways.”
I can’t help but smile at that, and the quivering of my body begins to ease. “Thanks Zayn,” I sigh gratefully, snuggling closer.
I take note that he still has that ever so intoxicating scent, the mixtures of colognes over the light smoke of cigarettes. His light breathing tickles the back of my neck, warming me up both physically and emotionally. His chest is flat, yet still muscular, making me feel safe along with the embrace of his arms. All of these things secure me mentally, make me feel as if everything is all right, and the monster of the storm is not longer out to get me.
Feeling his heart beating against my back, I find that the next strike from the storm only makes my body tense, not jump as it did before.
“Think you can sleep now?” He murmurs after a moment of silence.
I nod, slowly. “I do,” I answer. “I think I’ll sleep perfectly now.”