ETHEREALLY | 18+

10 | Knife

Startled by the loud banging on my door, I groggily sat up, checking the time. "Who the hell would be at my house at 3 in the morning?" I mumbled.

Despite my reluctance, I dragged myself out of bed and walked down the stairs. Just as I reached for the doorknob, a surge of anxiety hit me.

What if the person outside wanted to kill me? Or what if they kidnapped me? Did they have a weapon? Various unsettling scenarios crossed through my mind.

My heart raced as I scanned the room, desperately seeking something for protection. Rushing to the kitchen, I grabbed a knife and returned to the front door.

Unlocking it slowly, I raised the knife, then swiftly swung the door open. Without looking at who it was, I aimed for their arm and instinctively dragged the knife across.

A hiss escaped the person as they stepped back. Horror enveloped me when I looked up and locked eyes with Zayn, realization sinking in.

"Oh my god," I exclaimed frantically, my eyes fixated on his bleeding arm.

"And I thought I was the crazy one," he muttered, standing there with blood dripping down. For someone who had just gotten attacked with a knife, he seemed very calm.

I quickly grabbed his hand and brought him inside the house. Tossing the bloody knife on the table, I hurried to my bathroom. "Sit on the couch, I'll be right back," I called out as I retrieved the first aid kit.

Once I had everything I needed, I returned to the living room and approached Zayn. "I'm so sorry," I apologized. "I didn't know it was you."

Opening the first aid kit, I extracted alcohol wipes. "Is that how you always answer the door?" he asked, amusement evident in his eyes.

Gently taking his arm, I began cleaning the cut. "No," I said quietly, focusing on the task. "That's how I answer the door when someone decides to bang on it at three in the morning."

He chuckled as he observed me tending to his cut. Fortunately, it wasn't too deep, so stitches weren't necessary. After cleaning it thoroughly, I fetched a couple of bandages and started wrapping his arm.

"I didn't mean to scare you, princess."

Ensuring the bandages were secure, I took a step back, concern etched on my face. "Does it hurt?" I asked, feeling a twinge of guilt for what I had done.

"I've been through worse, this is nothing," he shrugged.

"What could be worse than getting cut by a knife?" I asked, curiosity piqued, as I packed up the first aid kit.

"Getting shot," he replied casually.

My eyes widened, and my jaw dropped. "You've been shot?"

He nodded, leaning back on the couch, legs slightly apart. "Yeah." He glanced at his newly wrapped arm. "Thanks for this."

I gazed at him silently, taking in what he had just told me. Trouble seemed to have a way of finding Zayn and his friends.

"It's the least I could do, considering it was my fault," I admitted, shifting on my feet.

"Don't worry about it, really. It was actually quite entertaining," he admitted.

"Entertaining?" I repeated. "Yeah, I think you're the crazy one between us." Picking up the bloody knife from the table, I walked into the kitchen, and tossed it into the sink before returning to the living room.

I stood there, observing Zayn as his eyes roamed my house until they met mine. "Are you just going to stand there and stare at me, or are you going to sit anytime soon?" he questioned, tilting his head slightly.