Healer {z.m}

08

Zayn Malik

I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to go up to her room and make her tell me everything about her but I couldn't.  Maybe because my pride was too large to even go up to her and talk nicely.

I felt ashamed because no one has ever been able to take advantage of me through my emotions. But she did. Not because she wanted to but because I underestimated her.

Underestimation is such a strong word. I remember the word as if I heard it for the first time yesterday.

"Zayn, don't ever let any person on this planet ever underestimate you. But also don't let everybody know who the real you is. Know your limits."

The words are like a lingering whisper in my ears.

She is just like Her. She was in control of who she was but she also didn't let anyone slip past her boundaries. I question myself if it will be really the worst and talk to her. Harry talks with her all the time. Maybe for once if I just go in with my gut and not think about my pride, maybe I can make things all right.

I open my wardrobe and punch my way through my black jeans. Finally, I find the small journal. I bring out the brown-leather covered journal and slowly circle my fingers around the engraved marks of D.Z

I ruffle through the old crinkled pages tainted with the smell of naphthalene. It has been so long since I've gone through the journals.

I flip to entry 7.

Entry 7. 2006.

Sometimes I ask myself when I became such a heartless monster. I look in front of the mirror and sometimes, I have difficulty recognizing me. I don't recognise the pitch blackness in my eyes. Instead I am overwhelmed by the sudden darkness surrounding me.

'I didn't want to go in so deep.' That's what everyone says but I didn't say that. I just asked myself if it will hurt a bit more if I go in deep a bit more?

I don't know what influenced this attitude of mine. Maybe because I didn't have anything to lose anymore. I lost my family. I lost the woman I love. I lost my best friend. And in between losing so many people, I think I have also lost myself in the process. I hadn't just realised that yet.

Today is different.

I don't even know why the fuck I write these things in here, maybe because I want someone to listen. Today I killed someone. I know it's not shocking to say the least. I have become very acquainted with the fact of murdering innocent people.

After every hit I made, I never used to feel anything let alone remorse. But today. Today was different. After my whole history, I made a pact never to hit a woman again. 

But today I killed a woman. I killed a woman today. I don't know if writing this down makes me even feel better.

But I killed an innocent woman today. I killed a mother today.

I killed the woman I love today. The love of my life. I killed and ended the epic love story of my life with just one bullet through the skull of the woman. 

I slap the journals close. My breathing has increased and I could feel my pulse quickening. I have read the journals a million times before but there were certain things which were unfolded in this journey, those have fucked me up.

I didn't have a particularly hard childhood. I had a roof over my head, a loving mother and an amazing sister. I was free and content.

But this journal. I didn't know who this belonged to even though I had a slight suspicion. But the situation in which I found this journal didn't really help with my suspicion. 

Nevertheless, I imagined myself to be the man writing this. I found solace in reading his entries. The man's tactics and many more things made me feel that maybe him and I were the same. This thought had haunted me so many times that I was as ruthless as this man. But the thoughts have gone away as quickly as they had appeared. 

I decide to treat myself to a cup of coffee. I step out of my room and realise that it was already so late. With everything happening, I had completely lost track of time. Nearing the kitchen, I see that a small light was flickering open. Someone was in the kitchen.

My right hand grip my waist in search of my gun but then I realise that I had left it in my room. Shit shit. I hope it's just one of us.

I hide in the shadows of the pillars to make out if anyone has barged in. But then I see her. I see her standing in front of the coffee pot with her hair being up in a bun. Wearing a simple yellow shirt and shorts, she was humming a song to herself. 

I realize that I was staring at her like a creep so I decided to reveal myself. I might even be able to talk to her nicely now that I was in a good mood. 

"Hey Emma." 

Emma Winston

I wake up and look around to see that my whole room was dark. It was already night. I had slept the whole afternoon way. Wow! I had been really tired. 

I sit up and tie my hair in a bun. I was really considering for a haircut but now the mere thought of a simple task like haircut seemed impossible. I make my bed and clean the part of the room which was trashed by me before going to sleep. 

A vase which was previously in my room was shattered to pieces and a few pillows were torn. I realize that today, it was really bad. 

I open the small drawers and start cleaning them with a piece of torn cloth. Cleaning comforted me. It was a weird habit but I guess I got that from watching friends. 

Thanks to Monica. 

Niall had bought some essentials for me previously from the store to my blessing. I place some of the new shorts in one of the drawers and the shirts on the lower drawers. Unlike the large drawers, my wardrobe was pretty small as compared to the other guy's rooms. 

On top of that, my wardrobe already consisted dresses which presumably belonged to a girl a bit younger than me. 

Suddenly while cleaning the deeper end of the drawer, the cloth comes in contact with what seemed like a mirror. I bring it out and see that it was a broken piece of a mirror. It was dirty and there were dark stains.

After examining it, I wanted to believe it that they were just red wines' stains but deep in my heart, I knew those were blood stains. The stains seemed old and were in a line as if someone had painted blood on it in a careful line.

While growing up, I had heard how broken mirrors were supposed to bring bad luck and I knew that something bad had happened in this house. I just wanted to figure it out and I knew it was going to be a tough case to crack. 

To clear my mind, I make my way downstairs for coffee. Everything was pitch black.

Where was everyone?

I avoid the living room with the previous events rushing back to me. I wonder what Zayn was up to. Probably chalking up a plan on how to kill me painfully. 

Coffee was already in the pot but I still heat it up. Meanwhile, I think about how my parents have been worried and they probably are in New York already. I miss Tanisha and I wonder how with my disappearance, I also destroyed a part of her dreams. 

"Hey Emma." My eyes jerk open and I see Zayn standing standing in front of me in a black t-shirt and black jeans. 

//

This chapter was really important with small details. Keep an eye out.