slow it down // zayn malik

chapter thirty-one // out of breath.

linley's pov

The tears fogging my vision makes it incredibly difficult to see as my feet pound against the grassy ground beneath my feet. But that doesn't even compare to the painful feeling that sits deep within my chest, making it even difficult to breathe.

With each inhale it feels as if a thousand knives were stabbing me in the chest; with each exhale it feels as if the world were pulling out all my insides.

I feel empty.

 "Linley!" A familiar voice shouts after me, making me push myself even further away from it all. I glance over my shoulder quickly, seeing Sable sprinting after me. I curse under my breath, knowing for a fact that she's quicker than I am. 

I take a quick turn once I reach the heart of the festival, weaving through the crowds of people. Everyone around me stares at me as if I were a madwoman, running wildly with tears spilling over my cheeks. 

Though I can't help but to agree with them; I'm nearly insane. This is exactly how I expected something like this to end. That's why I promised myself, a long, long time ago, that I would never trust a man with my heart. 

I can't tell if I'm more heartbroken, or ashamed that I would go back on my promises to myself like that. More than likely a mixture of everything; guilt, shame, confusion, pain. 

"Linley?" A few confused fans call out to me as I push past them, trying to stop me for a moment or two, but I don't slow down in the slightest. 

Instead, I shield my face from those around me, soaking the rough flesh of my palms with salty tears.

Pushing the soles of my feet into the gravel beneath me, I hurry along the several shops and tents lining the festival grounds. Knowing I need a moment or two to myself, I walk past the Drunk Tent, figuring that would be far too easy to find me there. Instead I go next door, to a much calmer looking tent.

It reads 'Free Your Mind'; exactly what I need. Pushing through the beads that hang in the doorway, I enter into the shaded tent, much cooler than the scorching weather beaming down outside.

Instantly I'm met with the beautiful strumming of a guitar and the familiar scent of incense. There are few people inside the rather large tent, and they glance over in my direction, but don't dwell. They give me my privacy, thankfully.

Letting out a sigh of relief,  I plop myself down on a bean bag chair located towards the back of the tent. Finally being able to catch my breath, I bury my face in my hands, unable to keep myself from crying. And I can't quite pin-point why it is exactly. 

Did I really let Zayn wriggle his way in my heart that quickly? How stupid can I be? I've only known him for less than a week. It's no wonder that it all ended so horribly. I was idiotic enough to trust some egotistical boyband member. 

Embarrassment heats my chest, causing me to bring my knees to my chest, curling myself up in a small ball as I hide my face from the outside world. 

I can't believe I though that there was something between us... I can try and lie to myself all I wanted, but Zayn had made me feel like I was special; like I was different; that I actually mattered. But in the end, I wasn't. That's what it all boils down to. He was lying to me, making me just as ridiculous as those other girls who are willing to fall for their stupid little tricks. 

I feel used and dirty. He had lied to me, had tricked me into actually making love with him. Though I suppose now it can't be called making love, no we just fucked. 

"Excuse me, miss?" A soft voice calls out as a gentle hand lands on my shoulder. 

I jump slightly in my seat, my wet eyes snapping up to land upon a very concerned looking older woman. Rather embarrassed, I do my best to dry my eyes, sniffling away the tears.