Used // h.s (Completed)

Exasperated, that's what I was- am. My pride that was once stored within me has now vanished into billions of particles, dissolved and evaporated into the mass air that surrounds me. Lifeless: nothing more, nothing less. I lay, placidly, willingly, acceptingly, though, my body is no longer belligerent; it's given up.
My name is Kaitlynn Malik and this is my story.

Copyright.© 2014 All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission by the author.

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7. Chapter 7.

"Harry stop it!" I yell at him. He ignores my pleas as he continues to tickle me. "Stop it!" I yell again. I have now lost all control of my body's actions and almost kick him in the face. He leans back and throws his hands into the air in defeat.

"I give." He says.

I sigh of relief and sit up on his bed, smiling at him.

"What?" He questions.

"Nothing." I smile.

"Yeah, yeah." He tackles me down to the bed, pinning my hands with his on either side of my head. He stares intently into my eyes as I stare back. He closes his eyes and leans down towards me. Is he going to kiss me?

I awake, breathing heavily. I wish that I could say that was really just a dream, a hopeful dream, but it wasn't. It was a memory, locked away deep in the back of my mind. I close my eyes and throw my head into my hands. Why? Why does Harry do this to me if he likes me?

I drag myself out of my bed and into the bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror. There are bags under my eyes and I look weak. I turn on the water for a shower.

After what feels like an hour of standing beneath the hot water and thinking of how things used to be, I step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my body. I wipe the steam off of the mirror and look into it. My reflection looks better now.

I walk into my closet, finding a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that Harry had once given to me, with the words "The Ramones" written across the front. I slip into the sweatpants and pull the shirt on over my head, wincing as the bruises pierce my body. I grab a jacket and pull it on, unzipped, covering the cuts on my arms.

I towel dry my hair and walk down the stairs. A lump grows in my throat as I hear the laughs of the lads growing louder with each step that I take. I reach the bottom of the stairs and immediately, my eyes land on Harry. His face is bright along with his eyes. He looks happy, but frowns when he sees me.

I walk over to the couch and sit down beside Zayn. He wraps his arm around me before whispering in my ear. "We need to talk."

I gulp down the lump in my throat and nod.

After hours of being with the boys, it felt like old times again, when they weren't so violent to me. We were laughing and talking and having a good time. I watch from the couch as the boys leave, Zayn closing the door behind them.

"So?" I question.

He walks over to the couch, sitting down beside me and grasping my hand in his. "Kait," he begins. "Simon has asked me to come to London for a couple of months to record some vocals. He says that he only needs mine because he already has the lads'." My breath hitches and my heart stops beating. Where is he going with this? "The lads offered to stay and take care of you. They said that they won't allow you to get into to trouble."

My heart shatters into a million pieces. Is that why they were so nice earlier, to prove to Zayn that they will take "good" care of me? I shake my head. No. No, this can't be happening. I start crying furiously, slamming my head into my hands.

"What's wrong princess?" Zayn asks, rubbing the small of my back.

I glance up at him through my fingers before crashing into his chest.

"I'm gonna miss you too." He says, trying to calm me.

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