ETHEREALLY | 18+

11 | Cream

My eyes fluttered open, taking in the empty bed around me. Sitting up, I glanced around the room, finding it deserted. With a sigh, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and headed downstairs, stepping into the living room.

"Zayn?" I called, but the only response was silence.

Disappointment flooded through me as I realized he was gone. Once again, I found myself alone, though it wasn't unexpected. I was used to it.

Heading into the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of water and took a sip. With the cup in my hand, I returned to my room and settled back onto the bed.

I reached for my phone and dialed my dad's number, listening as it rang until it went to voicemail. "Sorry, this person is not available to answer the phone right now. Please leave a message after..."

Tears welled in my eyes as I stared at his number. My grip tightened on the glass of water in my hand. Initially, sadness enveloped me over my parent's situation, but soon it morphed into anger. All I wanted to do was scream.

In an instant, the glass in my hand shattered into countless pieces. I gasped as I watched them cascade from my grasp onto the bed. Bringing my hand closer, I examined it carefully. The glass had sliced through my skin, drawing blood.

I remained frozen, staring at the blood welling up in my palm, its metallic tang filling the air as it began to trickle down my arm.

Exhaling deeply, I pushed myself off the bed and ambled into the bathroom. Grabbing the first aid kit, I tended to my hand and arm, carefully wiping away the blood and checking for any stray shards of glass. Once satisfied, I wrapped the injured area in bandages, making sure it was snug and secure.

Returning to my room, I carefully swept up the remaining glass fragments, throwing them in the trash can.

Sinking back onto my bed, I shut my eyes, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm the storm of emotions raging within me. Mrs. Emery's words echoed in my mind, she had warned me countless times about my anger issues and urged me to find healthier ways to manage them.

Opening my eyes, I glanced at my bandaged hand, contemplating Mrs. Emery's observations. I was starting to think she was right.

There had been many times in the past where I let my anger take ahold of me, causing me to lose control and lash out. Yet, I never deemed it significant enough to seek therapy. As long as my actions didn't inflict harm on others, I downplayed the severity of the issue.

My train of thought was interrupted by a beep from my phone. I reached for it and unlocked the screen to check my messages.

Zayn: "Sorry I had to leave so early, I had a few things to take care of."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of my lips. I replied with a brief, "No worries," not wanting to prolong the conversation unnecessarily.

I aimlessly tossed my phone onto the bed and snuggled back under the sheets, grateful that it was Saturday and I didn't have to worry about school.

Reaching for the controller in my bedside drawer, I switched on the TV. After scrolling through Netflix, I settled on a random movie. I always struggled to decide what to watch, and starting a new TV show felt like too much of a commitment at the moment.

As the movie played on the screen, my thoughts drifted elsewhere, fixating on Zayn. The horror of last night's events flooded back as I recalled accidentally cutting him with the knife.

In my defense, living alone as a girl, I felt the need for some form of protection when I heard the knock on the door at 3 in the morning.

I shifted, propping myself up slightly as I scanned my bed until my eyes landed on my phone. Retrieving it, I made the decision to send another message to Zayn.