He Loves Her.

Lyah Richards. Zayn Malik.

19. 22.

Autistic. Caring.

Artistic. Loving.

Poetic. Amazing.

Imprisoned.

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1. Lyah [Lie•Yah]

Hi guys!

The last book I started writing on here got 2K even after I stopped updating and coming on here completely, which I am very happy with. However, I have decided that in a matter of weeks I will take it down. Why? Because I don't like it. It's going nowhere.

I've decided that instead I'm going to write this book and get 5K at least. I have a plot but I kind of don't so if you would like something to happen comment it and I'll have a look!

Its been a year since I've properly been on this so I hope my writing has improved.

Please read with safety.

~*~*~

Day 136: They still don't know I'm here.

My mother writes, but never often. She doesn't want to give me away. The fact that I still reside here, in the castle, that is. Tulio, my older brother sends pictures along with mother's letters, just so I don't forget what they look like.

I sometimes write back saying I do in fact remember, but only because I don't want them to know that their images are fading fast from my mind. I wouldn't dare trouble them with the heartbreak.

A quick entry in my diary before bed. It keeps the mind sane.

Dear diary,

Another letter from home. I miss them. And they miss me. I want to leave believe me I do, but it's almost impossible: Harry never sleeps!

He remains restless nearly every night and rises early in the morning to begin his search for me. I can always tell when he's walking about, roaming the halls. He's been working away like a dog to find me. But that's just it; I don't want to be found. I want to run away, for real this time. I want to go back to my beloved–

Suddenly, slow, heavy footsteps approach the door of the cellar and I cower further and further back into the shadows, cobwebs and dust.

"Fuck sake, Harry," A man with blonde hair and olive skin emerges from the massive door at the top of the stairs, drawing out his words with exhaustion as he slumps down them, "it's been four and a half months," he drops heavily onto the dull red worn out sofa that I had taken so kindly to, "if she hasn't come back now she never will."

He's talking about me. I know it. That means Harry hasn't gotten over me yet, and so I've just got to wait. Whether it be ten years or two months: I've got to wait until people stop talking about me. Then I'll do it; I'll leave the castle for good.

"Atchoo!" Shit. I sneezed.

The man jumps up, clearly startled and inspects his surroundings. Please don't find me..

And that was it. Shit, fuck, shit, fuck, shit, I cursed mentally covering my face with my hands. I split my fingers, looking between them at his face, his eyes, his nose.. His everything.

He was gorgeous.

He drank in my features just as I drank in his. But I was in the dark and he was in the light: I wondered how he could even see me.

"Hey," he wearily moved off of my couch and carefully began to approach me. "Come out, Lyah, I know it's you."

He knows who I am? I barely look like I belong to anyone let alone myself. "Lyah," he spoke again, his voice soft like velvet "I won't hurt you, I promise."

I watched him carefully as I shuffled into the light. He was still, and it unnerved me slightly.

"Told you I wouldn't hurt you," he said grabbing my hand pulling my closer to him, "c'mon, let's get you upstairs yeah?"

I shook my head violently from side to side stepping away from him. He was gonna take me back to Harry, I should've known.

"N-no, no fank you, like no please," His eyes narrowed with suspicion. It must be the way I talk, it's weird I get it, but I can't help it. "Lyah is okay f-fanks."

As he took one step foreword, I took two steps back.

He looked at me with pity. "You're scared aren't you?" I nodded. Scared is an understatement, I'm terrified actually.

"It'll be our little secret," he held out his pinkie finger towards me. "I won't tell Harry, if you let me take care of you and bring you upstairs."

I watched my feet move as I pondered on the thought. Him? Help me? This was almost a quite laughable situation.

And even though I knew not his name not his motives, I too held out my frail finger to meet his chubby one, more for his benefit than mine.

"P-promise." I repeated.

~*~*~*

Thank you for reading, please do come again soon!

Rihanne x

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