Beautiful

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Zayn's POV

"Guess what!" Elle says excitedly over the phone.

"What?"

"I have my first basketball tournament tomorrow! You have to come! Please?" she asks.

"Of course." I yawn, realizing it's getting really late.

"Tired?" she asks.

"No, no. I'm fine," I insist. She laughs quietly.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Goodnight, Zayn. Bye." I smile to myself.

"Goodnight, Elle."

I put my phone down on my bed and glance up in the mirror. I stand up and walk towards it, studying my reflection.

Scars. Terrible, horrible reminders. I look at each one and remember the car wreck, the beatings, and other causes.

I jump from my thoughts when loud music starts playing downstairs. I sigh. He has his sorry excuses for friends over again. This isn't my ideal kind of night.

People scream and drunkenly laugh. They sound like wild animals. But I doubt they actually care.

I put a t-shirt on and lie down on my back and stare at the ceiling, hoping my life won't take another brutal turn tonight.

I start thinking of my mum and sisters. I think how we would bicker over stupid things but the situation would turn for the funnier side and we'd end up laughing. I think about my dad who was one of my best friends. The dog tag he gave me reminds me everyday that I'm not alone. It reminds me that I'm a fighter with so much to hold on to. So much I cannot lose.

Then I think about Elle. The gentleness of her... In my one world of insanity, chaos, and destruction, she's that other world that brings peace of mind and heart that lasts for a lifetime. Everything about her has opened my eyes to a level of beauty I've never seen before. She's the last bit of sanity I have. I've already determined I'm not going to lose her as well as everyone else I love.

Her warm smile, her embraces, her scent, touch, eyes, hair... Everything. I can't get enough of this brave and amazing girl who is actually a bit mad enough to get along with me. It goes against all of my inner nature!

But in a strange way, I like it.

My thoughts are interrupted by my door being swung open and slamming into the wall. Uncle Jack stands there, bottle in hand.

"What are you looking at? Get down here. We have company," he says. I don't move, not caring if he strikes. I'm growing more and more used to the pain. "Quit looking at me like that and get up!" he yells. He strides over and yanks me up by the collar of my shirt. I immediately feel the burn and sting from the fabric rubbing my skin. I regain my balance and walk towards the door. He pushes and kicks me all the way down. Three other drunk idiots relax on the couch and chairs, smoking and drinking like there's no tomorrow. One coughs and stares me down.

"I see the boy's still here," he says.

"Yeah. He's still the biggest dumb ass too," Uncle Jack says. They all laugh.

"You ain't got nothing on him, aye Jack?" another says. He shakes his head and laughs.

The grip he has on my arm tightens. I tense up, preparing myself for any situation.

"Can I go now?" I ask. He gives me a bewildered look.

"How rude of you. We have company over and you aren't going to stick around and have a little chat?" he asks me. He walks around me, puffing smoke in my face.

"Yeah, man. Don't you want a good time?" his "friend" asks. I shake my head ever so slightly.

"C'mon Jack. Show him who's boss. I'm pretty sure he's disrespecting you."

"I might just have to," my uncle slurs. Everyone stands and walks towards me, closing in with the stench of alcohol and smoke choking me. One shoves me into the other, knocking me off balance. They all take their fair turn and push me into another, making me disorientated. I can't make sense of things. My head is spinning as I collapse in the floor.

"Let's have a little fun, shall we?" one suggests. They all stare at each other, and for a moment the only sound I hear is the music. Then nothing.

They all begin to beat up on me. Hits on my shoulders. Kicks to my abdomen. Pain all over. I try to stand, but they knock me down again. I try to hold in the pained cries I've kept in for so many years. I try not to react much. But I fail. It hurts too much to sit motionless as it happens. At this point, I give up. I want to quit living here. Or even living. Period. What have I even done to deserve this? Why me?

My heart starts to race as I think of what would happen if I just gave up. People would actually care. Elle would care. Seeing her face is why I want to stand up every time. She's the reason I'm still wanting to live. It's her. It's all Elle.

It stops. They walk away laughing as they look over their shoulders to see the damage inflicted from their own personal, sick enjoyment. I hope they're happy because it was too much. Anything is too much.

The metallic taste of blood makes me sick. I can't stand the busted lips. Simply because I hate the taste. My sides and stomach hurt. My arms and shoulders hurt. I can barely breathe, but just enough to be stable. I cough and feel another overwhelming painful sensation sweep over me.

He waves his hand, dismissing my presence from the room. I try to stand, holding onto the door frames and walls as I make my way upstairs into my room. Oh my gosh. How am I alive after that one?

Barely.

I stumble to the same mirror to assess the damage. Just a busted lip and a pair of broken, depressed, life forsaken eyes.

I limp to the bathroom and wipe the blood away. I absentmindedly go through my same process I always do, involving the pain killers and staring at the abuse, then go back to my room.

I lie down once again and pray nothing else will happen. I'm so numb to the pain now. But I can't take much more. I'm far too physically abused to even comprehend. Even I can't understand it. I debate whether I should text Elle something I should've a long time ago or not. But I'm still here. So why should I? I'll tell her when the time is right. But definitely not tomorrow. I can't see her like this. I'll be too sore to move. I'll be bruised all over. I'll look like a total monster.

I try to think about her to lull me to sleep. But sleep doesn't come. Instead I begin to drown in my own thoughts, even the ones that would scare any normal person. Thoughts that would normally make me smile, but only make me think they're too distant to grasp.

I just want to hold her and tell her everything. I want to run my fingers through her long, black hair and stare into her light blue-grey eyes. I want her to talk. I just want to have her near. It's like withdrawals. I need her here. Though people seem to think I'm such an outcast that I can't even socialize. But someone with such a radiant light reached into my dark world and now it shines a little bit brighter.

But tonight, it's gone. Instead if a warm feeling, I'm stuck with the cold bitterness of this hell of a reality. And of course I'm stuck in it.

But she's my hope. Elle is the one thing I think of every time I'm in this situation. She's that same inner drive that made me fight back. She's the reason I want to overcome this.

She's the reason I can love someone again.