Icarus | Z.M.

31 | Bar

Victoria Tomlinson

We got out of that not so safe house as quickly as we possibly could.  Neither of us had actually unpacked our stuff considering we had only been there just over one day, so all we had to do was grab our bags, grab Cujo and get the fuck out of there.

The only issue now was, we had no idea where we could go. The last thing I wanted was to go home and see my dad. I knew too well that he would somehow make it seem like it was my fault.  I wasn't safe enough, I should have known better. I could not go back home with the bruise I had on my cheek.

Zayn's face was worse, he looked like he had the life beaten out of him. His face was bruised and bloody, his eye was red and bloodshot from being hit in the face and his hands and face were still stained with blood, given we hardly had any time to clean ourselves up

So currently we were driving, with absolutely no destination in mind. We had nowhere we could really go. I was sure we had been driving for hours already, because I could see that the sun was going to set soon, so it had to be late afternoon and we had left in the morning.

Zayn was driving, nothing but anger and stress were radiating off him but that was really nothing new. I sat in the passenger's seat, with my arms hugged around my knees, still wearing Zayn's jumper that he let me wear earlier. I was warm and I didn't want to take it off, he also hadn't asked for it back, so I wasn't going to give it to him until I could least change into my own clothes.

It did seem like we were in the middle of absolutely nowhere. It was one long straight road and there didn't seem to be anything around it and nothing on either side. I hadn't even seen another car.

My head was still pounding from being hit earlier by one of those guys, and my cheekbone was throbbing like it had its own heartbeat. I didn't want to say anything, firstly because there was nothing anybody could do to make the pain go away, and Zayn's injuries were at least seven hundred times worse than mine, and he hadn't complained once.

I had been resting my head on the window, aimlessly watching nothing as we passed. But I turned to face Zayn a little more bored of driving. He was focused on the road, his hand loosely held the bottom of the wheel while he smoked a cigarette out the window with his opposite hand. Still, there were blood stains around his fingernails and his skin had a red tinge to it.

I looked at his eyes. Tired eyes. One of them was bloodshot, the other had bruises beneath it, all along his cheekbone with small grazes from that man's knuckles. He looked tired, like he was struggling to keep his eyes open and focused on the road. His eyes fluttered closed and snapped back open, he took a deep breath to wake himself up, and then a puff of his cigarette.

"Do you want to find somewhere to stop and get some rest?" I finally broke the silence that had been lingering between us for the past three hours. It was getting darker outside by the second, and I knew he couldn't keep driving all night.

Zayn didn't seem to hear me, or maybe he was ignoring me. The second option seemed most likely. I sat up on the chair, crossing my legs on the leather with my hands resting in the space between my legs.

"Zayn." I said his name a little louder.

"Hmm?" his eyebrows raised, and he took a deep breath, glancing at me with his red eyes. "What?"

"I said do you want to find somewhere to get some rest?" I asked again, realising he had just not heard me, he must have been completely zoned out that entire time.

"Oh, right." He cleared his throat and rubbed his eye with the back of his hand after tossing his cigarette out the window. "I never heard you,"

He pulled his hand down his face and then pushed it back up, groaning as he did. He pushed his hair back off his face and ran his fingers through it.