Chapter Forty Eight

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Zayn’s feet stomped heavily on the path as he walked along the dodgy looking road that was home to where Alex Johnson lived. Something was going on, and from what it sounded, Alex was right in the middle of it all, stringing everyone around him like puppets. Well today was the day when Alex Johnson was going to meet his karma. Zayn stretched out his fingers as he counted the doors until his chocolate brown eyes looked at the gold number on the front of the door.

Before Zayn went to knock on the door, all of the pain that Alex had put him through shot back to him. Everything, the insults, the hits, the way he used him for sex, and the way he treated him on the deliveries. That evil, disgusting little grin that seemed to stick on the boys’ face in every situation flashed into Zayn’s mind, and Zayn took a couple of breaths before knocking on the door. What he was about to do was for his friends’ that Alex had ended up hurting, for his sisters who had become a sick threat for Alex to use, and most importantly, for Harry. Zayn had introduced his sisters to Harry, and that meant that he wanted his and Harry’s relationship to be serious, teacher or no teacher, Harry meant the world to him, more than he probably let on to Harry, and he wasn’t going to let Alex get in the way of that. He almost damaged their new relationship, and Zayn wasn’t going to let him do that ever again.

But, most importantly, Zayn was doing this for himself. After everything he was put through, the long, cold nights dealing with drugged up teenage boys or sickeningly thin girls before having to give Alex his body to play with like a doll, for money, Zayn only realised how sick this all was. And it took Harry to help him realise that. Zayn pressed a hard knock onto the wooden door. It seemed like old, dry pieces of dark blue paint seemed to fall from the door as he knocked, and he watched them fall to the ground before the door opened.

A tired, small woman was stood there, looking at Zayn cautiously.

“Who are you?” She immediately spat at him; although he could tell from the way she held a firm grip onto the door that she must have been frightened of him. Zayn knew that his own part of town wasn’t the nicest, but this must have been worse.

“One of Alex’s friends. This is where he lives, right?” Zayn asked, trying to be somewhat civil as he talked to the older woman. Her eyes were a dull green, a pair that were probably once incredibly pretty before they were destroyed by the effect of her lifestyle. He could tell what her lifestyles was like, because Alex was growing up and following her footsteps in taking the same one.

“Yeah. But he ain’t here.” She spoke up once again, and Zayn could see how her eyes were scanning over his face and body. This woman was desperately on edge, but why? Zayn immediately put his theory on the cause being due to drugs.

“He’s not?” Zayn asked, trying to get something out of this woman. He wanted to see Alex, but where the fuck was he?

“Being one of his friends I would’ve thought you’d already known where he was.” She answered again, quickly, her bitten fingernails digging into the wood of the door as if she were anxious.

“Then again, he has so many friends in so many places, I never know what’s happening. So you want to know where my son is?” She spoke up again, her head tilting to one side as if this was some sort of interrogation.

“Yes.” Zayn simply answered, growing tired and weary of the woman in front of him.

“He’s in hospital. It turns out that my son has made some bad decisions and ended up getting beat to shit for them.” She said, and Zayn couldn’t help but notice the lack of emotion that came from her voice. She just looked cold, and emotionally drained, especially from speaking about her son; just like how his Father would probably talk if the subject of the conversation were about Zayn.

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