Picture perfect ~Zaynmalik (completed)

Chapter 17

Fan Fiction - Picture Perfect Chapter Seventeen

PREVIOUSLY:

But something caught my eye.

She was a Beau too.

Aubrey Beau.

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I stared at the black bold font almost seeing the fibres of the paper, till the letters began to dance off the page. In my head my father's family raced by, name after name, blurry face after face but no one matched to an Aubrey. Deep inside I knew this was not a coincidence, that somewhere in my anarchic life, something good was about to happen.

Nearly an hour later I had read her profile back to front. Four times. I almost memorised it. I reached for the ball point pen and began curvedly signing my name at the bottom, when I lifted the pen and stared down I was brought to tears by what I wrote.

Just below my eyes, I signed what other girls might do daily. What other girls write all over their diaries. What other girls call themselves.

Marielle Malik

The tears were not emotional, I had no longing for him. But frustration. I let myself slip again. I promised I wouldn't fall for these boys, they'd tear me apart. Here I was signing his last name after mine. I was revolted. I screwed up the profile in my weak palms before throwing it out the door.

That was the end of it. I couldn't undertake all the pressure. I got out of the gurney and ran. I had no idea where I was going or what I was doing. Passing ward after ward. The walls and windows blurring behind me. People pointing, nurses chasing after me.

I saw the bright light, blinding my eyes. As I pushed through the doors that separated me from this prison into the real world, I was deafened.

I fell to the ground with great force, my head throbbing. I couldn't feel a thing.

--

"I've been your friend for a while now, but I have no idea what you're doing to yourself," Tash's voice echoed through me.

I tried to respond, my jaw secured up with a bandage to the top of my head. My arm braced to the opposing shoulder and my leg weighed down to the bed covered in white plaster.

"All of this over a stupid boy," she continued.

I attempted to show her otherwise, my eyebrows frowning but she was not convinced.

"Fuck any boy, even if he is some celebrity."

I couldn't disagree. I looked down at myself. I was a body with no mind or conscious. Tash brought her hand to my chin and made my eyes meet hers.

"Remember when you told me all men are the same?" she asked.

I nodded slightly.

"I want you to tell yourself that. That was the smart, confident, independent Marielle."

Smart. Confident. Independent. It echoed in my head, playing a loop.

Doctors walked in and out of the room for the rest of the afternoon. But I sat there chanting to myself, smart, confident, independent.

At the end of the night, I was finally left to myself. No more interruptions, examinations or paperwork. I stared at the wall, devising my plan after I finally got out of here.

Go home. Pack my stuff. And take the first flight back to Sydney.

Because that's what the smart, confident and independent Marielle would do. Runaway like a little bitch.

As my eyelids fell and I was about to drift I heard the soles of heavy boots hit the floors. As they turned the corner I felt fear take toll, again.

She stared at me with her brown eyes. Her hair dancing on her shoulders. Her tall lanky self slouching against the wall.

We stared at each other.

"I know what you're thinking," she said in a thick London accent.

She had no clue what I was thinking. To be honest, I didn't either. She took herself a seat on the stool beside me. I could see her facial features crisper than before. She had a small scar on her left cheek, like a little blemish. Like I did, on my neck.

"When my-I mean your Dad left 16 years ago he came here and he took me with him," she stuttered.

I looked at her blankly. Nothing that she had just said made sense.

"Your mum told you your dad left when he found out she was pregnant."

My heard began to race, she knew me but I didn't know her.

"Truth is he waited until you born then took me to remind him of you."

She looked angry with herself. Her eyes drew circles on the ground.

"He always used to say things about you. That you were the pretty one, the smart one. He never let me meet you or talk to you. He was too busy with his rounds of girlfriends."

Her voice began to crack, her head lowering.

"I wanted to know my sister. 17 years apart and I knew nothing about my other half."

I looked at her again, but this time I saw something different. I saw myself.

"I felt incomplete, disorientated. I looked day in and out. I found you, when your flight landed here. I was there at the airport but I was weak. I let you walk out again."

I began shaking my head in disbelief. This wasn't real. This was my insanity taking toll. But her voice went on.

"I let this happen to you Marielle, this is all my fault!"

A voice inside me screamed.

She rested her head on my chest.

"This time, it'll be perfect."