Perfectly Imperfect ➳ Ziam AU

Chapter 2

So, here it is! I'm sorry for the wait, but as I promised, I'd start this  story once OFTBH was finished, and now it is, so here we go again! ;)

Hope you like it! <3 ps: This chapter may  seem the exact same as the one before, but in Zayn's POV, and I'm sorry about that, but it has to be like it, because you have to know Zayn's side of the story as well as Liam's :) x

WARNING: This chapter contains abuse and self harm.

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[Zayn]

He paints a pretty picture, but the story has a twist, his paint brush is a razor and his canvas is his wrist. He paints his pretty picture in the colour that's blood red. While using his sharp paint brush, he ends up finally dead, his pretty picture fading. Quite slowly on his arm, the blood is not racing through him, he can no longer do no harm. He painted his pretty picture, but his picture had a twist, you see his mind was his razor, and his heart was his wrist.

I laid in a fatal position on my single bed, my head buried into the sheets as I bit onto my bottom lip, willing not to cry. But it was hard not to, knowing he'd be back any minute now..

The thought almost made me break and loose my 'calm' but I held on, listening carefully for the sound of the door slamming and his heavy feet stomping upstairs.

Soon, those sounds came and I cringed into my sheet, squeezing my eyes shut as I laid above the covers in my room, the lights dimly on. His disturbingly loud footsteps classically stopped outside my door as I froze, just listening.

The door creaked open teasingly slow and my eyes watered at what I knew was going to happen. The door slammed shut and my body jolted upwards as I pushed myself up the bed on my bum until my quivering body hit the headboard.

My dad took in my appearance with a harsh sneer as he stomped forward to me. I let out a yelp as he grabbed onto a chunk of my hair, dragging me off the bed and into a standing position. Tears cascaded down my cheeks already.

"Already crying, Zayn? Your such a wimp." He spat, his face close to mine as he held me up, and I could smell the alcohol leaking from his open mouth. I almost wrinkled my nose in disgust, but I caught myself.

"P-please, dad. C-c.. Cant you just, just go to b-bed and leave.. me?" I whispered flinching at my own voice.

"No, you brat! How dare you request such things!" He shouted, slamming my back into the wall and I noticeably flinched, which he laughed evilly at.

"Your fucking worthless, you don't deserve to 'just be let off' you deserve ever beating you get." He spat, punching me in the eye and I could already feel the swelling..

I keeled over in his grip and he kneed my in the stomach erupting a groan from my mouth. He dragged my back up to face him by the collar of my shirt and punched me upwards, on my chin so my whole jaw began to ache. I wanted to scream out in pain but my mouth wouldn't move since I'd been hit there.

He let go of me and I fell to the floor in a crippling mess, my body shaking as I curled away from him. He gave a slight kick to my ribs and I whimpered softly as I cried.

"What are you?" He shouted, close to my ear.

I swallowed painfully, before answering with all my might.

"Worthless."

My dad left the room at that and I stayed on the floor crying. After around 5 minutes I pulled myself up, winching and groaning softly as I dragged my slight frame to the bathroom.