Killing You (Ziall)

Niall Horan has done the impossible. He's fallen for a killer.

Zayn Malik has one mission: to get rid of Niall and those close to him.

When these two conflicting interests collide, the pair of boys find themselves in a war between the heart and the mind. Which one will win depends on which emotion--love or greed--can win the battle.


6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5


[ A/N: I'm thinking about posting this story just on my Wattpad profile (heyhazza) but I've not decided let me know, yeah? I always post on there first, so feel free to fan me there if you want first access :) alright, enjoy! ]


Zayn's resolve broke a little after he finished patching Niall up. All the while he was playing the part of the doctor, he kept thanking his lucky stars that before he'd been approached by Big Boss for his new "job", he'd been attending Uni in hopes of becoming a doctor one day. Funny how things like that work, really. One day hoping to save lives, and the next willingly taking them. Zayn could've laughed out loud at the thought if he weren't covered in Niall's blood at the moment. 

He remembered his promise--or threat, rather-- of killing Niall, but after nearly losing the boy by someone else's hands, nursing him back to health couldn't hurt anything, could it? Still slightly in a daze, Zayn decided he'd care for the boy, but just until he was well again. Then Zayn could resume the fun of killing his Task slowly. 

After he was finished dressing the wound, Zayn gathered the small boy into his arms and carried him bridal style up the dusty basement stairs. Without really thinking, Zayn ended up in his own bedroom. 

'Just until he gets better,' Zayn promised himself. 

He sighed and gently laid an unconscious Niall on one side of his unmade bed. He remembered from his beginners' medical classes that it was important to keep stabbing victims warm, so he pulled the fluffy gray duvet over the fragile-looking boy's body and tucked him in. It was already dark outside, so Zayn drew the blinds closed to block out the bright glow of the moon and stripped to his boxers, getting ready for bed. He slipped under the covers, careful not to touch Niall and almost instantly drifted into a dreamless sleep. 

The next morning, Zayn awoke at half eight, much earlier than usual for him. The sleep had cleared his head considerably, and for that he was thankful. Zayn sat up in bed and stretched his arms lazily, only to have them bump something warm. And not the kind of warmth from slept-in sheets, either. This was more of a radiating warmth-- a human warmth. 

He jumped out of bed quickly, nearly face-planting when his ankle got caught in the sheets, and stared at the company lying face-up in his bed. 

'Oh, shit!' he thought to himself. No, no, no, no! What had he done?!

Zayn ran his hand up and down his stubbly face. What the hell had he been thinking? He was supposed to kill his tasks, not invite them into his bed! 

Suddenly, the rage returned and Zayn felt the need to break something. He stormed out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. On the window ledge sat a red blown-glass plate with swirls of other colors running through the middle. It had been a gift from his wealthy boss, probably a "well-done" for some high-profile Task, but Zayn couldn't remember anymore. 

For some reason, the bright early morning sun shining through the decoration enraged the killer and he stalked over to it, plucking it from its perch. Before he knew what had happened, the plate was on the floor, shattered to bits. The shards of glass looked to be blood-covered to Zayn's delirious mind and he let out a piercing scream. 

He needed to kill. 


Niall awoke to an ear-shattering scream and bright sunlight shining directly into his eyes. He bolted upright and let out a shriek of pain, clutching his abdomen which was now burning immensely. He ripped the fluffy duvet off of him and gasped at the blood-soaked bandages wrapped around his bare stomach. 

Damn it, he was still alive! 

Niall pinched his arm as hard as he could. 

Yep, definitely still alive because that fucking hurt!

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and looked around. Where was he? Had he been rescued? Who had dressed his wound? This definitely didn't look like a hospital room. 

Niall got out of bed carefully, still holding his sore torso. He looked around for evidence of where he was. Zayn definitely wouldn't have made sure to fix his wounds and tuck him into a comfy bed, would he? The framed photo of his kidnapper and some girl with the same skin tone and facial features as Zayn told Niall otherwise. He was in...Zayn's bedroom?

What the fuck?


Zayn stalked angrily to the front door and wrenched it open harshly. He was immediately slapped in the face by the cold wind whipping through the trees surrounding his large house. He barely felt it, though. Anger was fueling his every thought and action. 

How could he have let himself slip up like that? Big Boss had made himself perfectly clear: kill the blonde boy along with the other members of One Direction. A simple task, really. One Zayn had performed countless times before. So why did he find it so difficult now? What was so special about Niall?

And once again, there go his thoughts, drifting back to the Irish lad. 

Dammit, Zayn. Get your shit together!

Zayn let out another shout of frustration and rage, sending a flock of dark birds that had been nesting in the trees beyond the house scattering into the morning sky. 

He knew what he needed to do in order to clear his mind. He needed to feel powerful. He needed the familiar texture of blood washing all his softness away. He needed to watch as his hands brought an end to yet another Task. He needed to kill. 

Zayn urged his heavy feet forward, pushing himself toward the large cellar in the backyard. He passed absently by the mounds of dirt sprouting small tufts of new grass, each little hill marked with a dirty piece of scrap wood. The freshest one had newly overturned dirt heaped carelessly on top and a stick sunk haphazardly into the earth. Messy scrawl written hastily in permanent marker read "J.D. 56". 

The numbers written beside the initials didn't faze Zayn much anymore. When he had first started this job, each increasing number was like a stab to the heart. Another body buried six feet deep. One more family that would be left to mourn the death of a loved one whose body would never be returned to them for a proper burial. But now, after years of performing the same duty over and over again, he was pretty much hardened to it. 

As much as others may try to disagree, Zayn hadn't picked to have this profession. He wouldn't wish it upon his worst enemy. It had just... happened. Well, it had been forced on him, more or less. 

One day, he had been like any other eighteen year-old, studying at Uni to hopefully become a successful doctor, and the next, he had been snatched up by Big Boss's henchmen and was almost killed himself. Luckily for him, the boss was impressed with the fight he put up and gave him two options: join his "business" or have him and his whole family virtually obliterated from the earth. He chose the first option. 

And now here he was, nearly a year and a half later, killing left and right like it was no big deal. It wasn't really nothing, though. He had come to need the adrenaline released after checking yet another Task off his list. It was like a high for Zayn. 

And that's why he found himself plodding toward the shed that housed his current captives. It wasn't just because his boss had told him to get rid of these boys. It was a mental necessity. He could feel the craving threading through every thought in his brain, that subconscious nagging telling him it was time for another murder lurking in every crevice. 

Zayn stopped before the large door of the shack housing his next victims. The dirty white paint was peeling, exposing time-worn wood underneath. His stubby fingernails scratched away at the paint slightly before he straightened up and grabbed the latch, sliding it open with a loud squeak. He made a mental note to himself to oil the hinge later.

No lights were on in the small, dingy shed. The only source of illumination was the few rays of sunshine filtering in through the crack made when Zayn opened the door. A small window high up on the wall offered a tad bit of a glow, but hardly enough to be of much help. As soon as he stepped inside, the quiet chattering that had been going on ceased. Zayn slipped all the way inside the shed and closed the door behind himself, listening to the sound it made reverberating off the walls in the tight enclosure. Once his eyes were adjusted to the faint light, Zayn took a few more steps into the middle of the room until he was able to see five human outlines. 

Zayn smiled his sadistic grin to himself and looked at the floor, shaking his head in glee. Boss had only said that four had to die. Just the four members of One Direction. But of course, the three other twats had to get in the way of Zayn's smooth exit. Now they too would pay the ultimate price for their stupidity. 

Zayn had had to do some additional research in order to find out the names and a few other details about these three lads, but it hadn't been all that difficult. Twitter had been Zayn's number one ally in identifying them. Thank god for the countless fangirls who seemed to know everyone even vaguely connected to the famous boy band. After only about an hour of searching, Zayn had found out that the "extras" were named Josh Devine, the band's drummer, Andy Samuels, Liam's best friend from back home in Wolverhampton, and Joey Cottle, who-- as far as Zayn could tell-- was some name-dropping dick who claimed to be Josh's best mate. 

"So, who's next?" Zayn spoke darkly. 

"Next? What the fuck do you mean NEXT? What have you done with Josh?" spoke a faceless voice in the darkness. 

Zayn let out a low, rumbling laugh. "Your mate needs to learn not to talk back so much." 

"What have you done to him?!" the voice repeated, louder this time. 

"I've just done what I'll do to the rest of you as well." Zayn spoke, his voice oozing with mock sweetness. 

Several of the boys' breaths hitched in their throats. "No," he heard one whimper and begin sniffling. 

"So," Zayn began. "I asked a question. Who's next?" 

He hadn't really expected any of the boys to volunteer themselves, so he was exceedingly surprised when one of the silhouettes stood from a box he had apparently been occupying and took slow steps until he was a mere meter from Zayn. The killer cocked his head, silently questioning the action. 

"You're a fucking bastard and I hope-- wait, I KNOW-- that you'll burn in hell where people like you belong," the boy Zayn recognized as Joey spat at him. 

"Yeah?" Zayn snarled. "You think I don't already fucking know that?" He began shaking in rage, his voice raising several octaves as he began shouting. "I'M A FUCKING MONSTER AND I KNOW IT JUST AS MUCH AS YOU. YOU THINK I CHOSE THIS LIFE, WELL YOU'RE WRONG! I don't want to be like this," he admitted, his voice softening at the end. The calm lasted only a few seconds, though. Soon the biting darkness returned to his eyes and he looked up at Joey once again with a stony glare.

The shorter boy stood his ground and returned the glare with one he hoped was just as menacing. "Well I feel sorry for you. You haven't-- nor will you ever-- know what's it's like to love or be loved. And for that I'm FUCKING sorry," Joey retaliated, his tone making it quite clear that he wasn't at all sorry for the killer. 

Those words were the ones to cause the tiny thread holding Zayn together to snap. 

"You're right, I don't know what it's like to love," he purred. "I can only hate and right now, you're number one on my most hated list. And you want to know what happened to the last person to occupy that position? I'll give you a hint. His name was Josh Devine and he--" Zayn was cut off by a body slamming into his own, knocking him to the hard floor. 


The person was scrambling around on top of him, attempting to pin his arms, but Zayn was faster and stronger. He flipped the person so he was hovering over top of him. "You're right, he wasn't even part of the deal. He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, much like you, my friend. And now you too are going to face the same fate your friend did, I'm afraid," Zayn hissed in Joey's face, tracing random lines up and down the other boy's face with his fingers, sending a panicked shiver down his spine. "Shame, really. You seem like such a...charming fellow," he said sarcastically. 

Zayn could now hear whispering and hushed sobs coming from where the other boys were seated a few meters away. He could only see outlines, but he could tell that one of the boys was in hysterics, being comforted by another whose arms were around the smaller one's frame. Another of the boys looked to be struggling to rush to Joey's aid, but was being held back by the fourth, a hand over his mouth to muffle the words tumbling out. 

Joey looked scared to death, but managed to mutter out: "Well, I'm not going down without a fight!" before he began wriggling violently in Zayn's firm grasp. 

"Wrong move, mate," Zayn whispered darkly before he got to his feet, dragging Joey along with him. 

The boy who had been fighting to come at Zayn broke free of the other's grasp and lunged at him, but Zayn had seen him coming and quickly brandished the kitchen knife he had stashed in his back pocket, pointing it threateningly in Liam's face. "You better sit the fuck down before I have to use this on you too," he warned. Liam muttered a string of curses to himself, but slunk back to the shadows nonetheless. 

Zayn was still holding the large carving knife in his hand and had Joey in a choke hold around the neck. "Now, any of the rest of you fuckers care to come forward?" They all looked hesitant and stared at Joey with sad looks in their eyes, but no one stepped forward, knowing they had no chance against a trained assassin wielding a knife. "No one? Are you sure? I don't bite." Zayn chuckled evilly. "Well, maybe a little," he said with a smirk before dragging Joey to the door of the shed. He fumbled around in the dark, looking for the latch to open the door when he was attacked from behind. 

Shocked, Zayn let his hold on Joey slip, and the boy scrambled away slightly into a dark corner. Zayn's attacker had him in a sort of backwards bear hug, muscular arms constricting around his midsection. 

On the right forearm, Zayn noticed four arrow-like tattoos descending until just before the wrist. The left had delicate cursive writing spelling out 'Everything I Wanted But Nothing I'll Ever Need...'; Liam, Zayn remembered. He chuckled silently to himself. The tattoo seemed slightly ironic now that all the singer had was being ripped away from him bit by bit at Zayn's hands. 

Zayn shook his head at Liam's stupidity. He was a trained killer, for godsake. He'd been in situations similar to this more times that he could count on both hands and always came out the victor. Without much thought, he brought the knife he had managed to keep ahold of a few centimeters in front of him and then plunged it backwards quickly. He smiled to himself when the tip of the weapon met resistance and Liam let out a pained yelp, immediately releasing his grip on Zayn. The bigger boy fell to his knees on the floor and gasped as he dug the blade from where it was lodged just below his armpit, flinging it to the floor at Zayn's feet. 

"You want to try it again, Payne? Did I not warn you well enough the first time?" Liam clutched at the wound that was slowly seeping dark blood onto the fabric of his gray t-shirt and shook his head in defeat. "Good," the dark-haired boy spat, squatting down to retrieve his blood-stained knife. 

Zayn stomped over to where Joey was huddling in the corner crying into his hands and grabbed him roughly behind the neck. He dragged him to the door and found the handle, yanking it open so harshly that the hinges nearly snapped. Once they were both outside, Zayn slammed the door shut again and made sure to secure all the bolts before turning his attention back to his victim. "I'm going to take my time with you," Zayn growled. "And you have your wanker of a friend to thank for that."

Joey's eyes widened and he began shaking his head side to side furiously, tears filling his eyes. "No," he whispered pleadingly. 

"Not so tough without any of your superstar friends around, are you?" Zayn sneered. "You're about to die, and where are they? They're not here! That's how life works! It's not fair, is it? IS IT?" he thundered.  

The other boys could hear nearly every word being screamed by the killer. But worse than his sharp voice was the piercing scream that came after Zayn's voice could no longer be heard. Joey. 

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