Figure 8

11. Getting carried away

~Zayn's POV~

"Maybe you're the monster you claim to be." Her voice breaks and she walks away.

My smirks falls off my face and I get up from leaning on the motorcycle. I march into my house and kick the door shut.

"Whats wrong Zayn?" My older sister asks.

"None of your business." I sing song coldly.

I walk up the stairs into my room and throw everything off the top shelf in anger.

"FUCK." I yell at the top of my lungs.

I look through the window and Mason plops onto her bed. She puts her hand on her temples in total frustration. I push my window curtains shut. I can't watch what I caused, it's killing me. And the worst part is what if she's right. Who am I to say Nick is going to hurt her if I hurt everyone who comes in contact with me? I'm not good for her, I'll ruin her.

She needs someone like Niall or Liam, someone nice and normal, someone who dresses nice and when you see them they have that smile on their face that looks like proper blokes.

"I can't do this." I yell again and throw shoes at the closet.

Now I'm sitting in a chair rocking back and forth. My mom is yelling my name telling me to calm down, I tell her to leave me alone. Waliyha is screaming everytime I throw shit. I want to be good for Mason. Why can't I be good for her? What the hell doesn't she see in me anyway? Oh yeah, I'm not worth shit, and I'll never be worth shit. I stand up and start pacing quickly, I look through the window again and she's not there.

"What are you doing?" A voice says. I grab the snow globe on the shelf.

"I told you to lea-" I turn around about to throw it at the wall behind the person but I lower my hand.

"Throw it at me." It's Mason. "Come on Zayn"

AIl I can do is stutter.

"Throw it." She says colder. "You seemed so confident when you pulled it off the shelf"

I don't have anything to say for myself.

"Why are you just looking at me? Throw the stupid snow globe. Give me a concussion yeah?"

*FLASHBACK*

~Zayn's POV~

I'm in a room with cushions covering the walls, floor and ceiling. Twelve years old in a juvenile mental hospital. A man is across the room about fifty times my body muscule at the time is staring at me. Next to me I have two basketballs, eight softballs, a ceramic plate set, and a knife. I'm throwing all the items at him and he dodges everyone of them.

"Come on that's the best you can do?" He spits.

I clench fists and grab one of the thirty-six plates throwing each one as fast and as hard as I can. He keeps dodging them, why can't I hit him in the face? I throw them even harder and faster until I end up picking up the last item. Which had to be the knife.

"Oh! It's real man's fight right?." He laughs menacingly. "Now, throw it you pussy."

I hold the knife up still, so this is it. This is what makes me insane or not. This man has been pissing me off since the minute he carried me and threw me in here. If I throw this knife at perfect aim I could kill him. But do I want that? I look over at my mom whos in the other room watching me through a window. A tear rolls down my cheek.

Then I stutter

"I-I-I-I c-can't do it." I scream already in tears. I take the knife and stab it into one of the cushions. The man looks at me speechless. I run toward him and hold onto his leg.