Story Of My Life *1d and 5SOS*

3

When I get home, I see Mom sitting at the table. She drinks coffee. "I'm home." I say relieved, more to prove to myself that I'm safe. When I let my bag slide off my shoulder, the shoulder strap goes over the burn mark under my sleeve. I bite my lip to hold back the tears welling up in my eyes. "Hey sweetie." My mother says when I enter the living room. "Hi." I sit opposite my mother. "How was school?" she asks. "Good! Super cozy." I lie. "Happy." My mother's smile makes me feel guilty. I try to push the feeling away. "Zayn not here?" I just ask. "Yes, upstairs." My mother thinks for a moment. "He has to tell you something, you're not going to like it." I shrug. it can never be as bad as hell at school. "Then I'll go upstairs." I say and walk towards Zayn's room, which is easy to recognize: on the door is a large full of drawings of him. Mom doesn't let him draw on the door, so he hung up a very large sheet. He always tells me that if he wants to live on his own, he wants to draw a room full. I knock on the door. If I say "inside?" OK, I walk in. Zayn sits on the wide windowsill, half hanging out of the window, smoking a cigarette. "Sup?" I walk in and sit on Zayn's bed. "Hey." Zayn smiles. "Tired, long day. You?" on the door hangs a large full of drawings of him. Mom doesn't let him draw on the door, so he hung up a very large sheet. He always tells me that if he wants to live on his own, he wants to draw a room full. I knock on the door. If I say "inside?" hey, I walk in. Zayn sits on the wide windowsill, half hanging out of the window, smoking a cigarette. "Sup?" I walk in and sit on Zayn's bed. "Hey." Zayn smiles. "Tired, long day. You?" on the door hangs a large full of drawings of him. Mom doesn't let him draw on the door, so he hung up a very large sheet. He always tells me that if he wants to live on his own, he wants to draw a room full. I knock on the door. If I say "inside?" OK, I walk in. Zayn sits on the wide windowsill, half hanging out of the window, smoking a cigarette. "Sup?" I walk in and sit on Zayn's bed. "Hey." Zayn smiles. "Tired, long day. You?" Zayn sits on the wide windowsill, half hanging out of the window, smoking a cigarette. "Sup?" I walk in and sit on Zayn's bed. "Hey." Zayn smiles. "Tired, long day. You?" Zayn sits on the wide windowsill, half hanging out of the window, smoking a cigarette. "Sup?" I walk in and sit on Zayn's bed. "Hey." Zayn smiles. "Tired, long day. You?"

"School, boring." I say, always the same. "Are you going to live on your own?" I ask. Zayn starts laughing. "Do you really want me gone then?" I quickly shake my head. "No, but mommy told you to tell me something I'm not going to like, and I saw your graffiti door and thought..."

"No no, I don't have time to live on my own now, busy with the boys, you know..." I nod understandably. "Let's talk about that news..." Zayn says a little uncomfortably. "I'm going on tour again." Bam! The news comes as a slap in the face. The only one besides mom who has left in, goes away. "By England?" I try to stay positive. "All over the world." Another blow. Worldwide?! How long on earth will he be gone?!" For how long?" I ask, less positive. "One year. Sorry." He stubs out his cigarette. I'm numb to it. I hear Zayn say my name, I hear him say something, but it's all past me. Zayn is going on tour for a year, I wouldn't see him for a year.

When Zayn says my name for the hundredth time, everything suddenly clears up. "What?!" I snap. "Are you okay?" Zayn looks at me sadly. "ARE YOU OK?! ARE YOU OK?! DON'T YOU, ZAYN! OF COURSE IT'S NOT! YOU'RE LETTING ME UP!" I get up and run to my own room. I slam the door behind me and slam the wall until blood runs down my knuckles. Then I lower myself against the wall. I hate my life, I hate having a famous brother and I hate the people who think it's fun! It's no fun that you can't even walk quietly with your brother without screaming girls running towards you! It's no fun that your brother is often away for rehearsals and it's no fun that your brother is just there one day and suddenly gone for a fucking year the next! I can feel the tears streaming down my cheeks, but I don't care anymore. I pull up my sleeve and look at the burn mark. "Why?" I ask myself out loud. "Why?"

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856 words

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