Zayn Malik
"Make the fucking call."
"My hands are literally tied, how do you expect me to dial the number?" I asked the very dumb person standing in front of me.
It wasn't his fault... he was indeed very damn gullible, or simply naive enough to think he was actually going to get something out of this.
Money? Maybe... I had tried to put the pieces together to solve this puzzle, but I just couldn't.
One thing was missing: a motive.
That I still had to discover... I had plenty of time to think anyways. I had lost count of how many days I had been locked here, but now I was allowed to eat three times a day and also drink some water, because they needed me alive.
One of them would always be watching me... even when I went to the improvised bathroom in the corner of the room. This place looked like a prison cell, maybe worse.
I hadn't been in jail before, but that's what it felt like. And I didn't have a bed, I was always on this god awful chair. I was used to it by now, there wasn't much I could do.
They had guns... I had nothing.
But they needed me. That's why they kept my phone, I was sure they were texting Harry pretending it was me.
It wasn't working apparently, because their next plan was to have me call Harry to ask him where he was. I just wanted to know why... because I had also heard the Horan name being mentioned and I was so fucking confused.
Maybe being hit in the head made me slower to comprehend what was going on, but I wondered if anyone was looking for me.
There was no way they would find me, though.
I had accepted the fact I could die anytime from now on, either from the injury in my head that still gave me extremely painful headaches, or simply because they decided to kill me and move on to the next plan.
They talked about exposing and cornering, and I was always very lost. Expose what?
Why were they doing this?
I never thought they'd do this... fool everyone the whole time.
I could tell there was someone else though, someone who planned it all and that was calling the shots. I was surprised by the whole effort in finding Harry though. It made me wonder why the fuck he was missing.
"I'll dial the number. It's on speakerphone." He snorted, holding my phone close to my face as I saw Harry's number.
And I couldn't do much else because he was also pointing a gun at my head.
"So I just ask him where he is? He didn't tell you over the texts? Well, he still won't tell me now." I sighed, wondering if Harry had ever gotten the weapons I delivered.
Was this related to the list and Cleo? Maybe Harry killed someone important... but why would they be working together to find Harry?
I was so fucking confused, being locked in here and not knowing what was going on out there just frustrated me so fucking much.
"Ask him where he is, you're his best friend, aren't you?" He chuckled.
"This is your last chance of being helpful."
I simply nodded, hearing as he dialed the number... but it went straight to voicemail.
Shit, Harry...what did you do? "Well, that isn't my fault." I shrugged.
"I saw that there's another number of his saved.. here. Let's try this." He said, dialing the other number.
This was Harry's backup in case he lost his phone, he'd have to be back in New York to grab it from his safe. But they didn't know that.
"Zayn? Fuck, now's not a good time." Harry answered the call and the dumbass in front of me smiled.
And I had an idea... something Harry and I hadn't mentioned or done in long years.
"Where are you? We need to talk about the notebook." I said, watching as the man in front of me furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.
"What the fuck, Zayn?" Harry seemed very confused as well on the other side of the line, his voice sounded stressed.
The Notebook was his favorite movie, we used to mention it whenever we wanted to let each other know that something had gone wrong, as our little code word. But it had been years and he seemed to have a lot on his mind, I couldn't insist much or else I'd get caught.
"I'll stop by, we need to talk. Where are you?" I asked, feeling that painful clenching in my guts, focusing on the gun aimed at my head and on the fact Harry wasn't answering.
"Watching The Notebook," Harry said after a few seconds of silence, simply hanging up the call.
Finally, thank fuck he put the pieces together. He was home. "What the fuck was that? Why didn't he tell you!" He yelled at me. "God, I knew you'd be useless! I told them! You're not going to like the next plan, that's for sure."
"What-"
Before I could finish my sentence, he hit my head with the barrel of the gun, so damn hard that this time I wasn't sure if I'd ever wake up.
