Zayn yanked me out of the basement by the collar of my shirt, bolting the locks shut behind me. That giant of a dog was barking repeatedly, wagging its tail enthusiastically. Tears ran down my face at an alarming rate. The whole house would probably be flooded by the time I’m finished.
“Come on, upstairs.” Zayn murmured, shoving me toward the direction of the stairs. I refused to look at him as I climbed slowly up the stairs. I looked all around me for a window or something, but all the windows I saw where shut with a pad lock. Panic, fear, confusion, desperation flooded through me, kicking my anxiety level up a notch. Make that a few notches.
Zayn was hot on my heels, keeping a hand firmly on my lower back. I shuddered horribly just thinking about his disgusting hand on me. My skin crawled and prickled with terror. Upstairs, he gently pushed me to the bedroom at the end of the hall. The room was small; four walls painted a beige colour, a single bed settled in the center, no other furniture. There were no windows anywhere.
“On the bed,” Zayn commanded, his tone low and somewhat…peaceful. But the look in his eyes said the exact opposite. I reluctantly sat on the bed, scooting as far away from him as I could go.
“What to do, what to do,” he muttered, gazing down at me like an experiment. His lips twisted in a smirk.
“What are you going to do to me?” I whimpered, thinking the question was stupid, but at least it was something to stall him from what he wanted to do. Zayn sighed. Sighed like I was an annoying child.
“You know, you’d think that I’d know what I wanted to do with you, wouldn’t you? But in truth, I have absolutely no idea.” He grinned evilly, leaning down. His face was mere inches away from mine. I jerked back, but his hand shot out, grabbing my face harshly and pulling me back closer. His breath smelled like candy. Overly-sweet, stomach churning, nauseating candy. I wanted to puke.
I watched in horror as his caramel eyes flutter down to my lips. I clamped them down so he wouldn’t have anything to look at.
“Why are you doing this? Is it really because of what I did to you when we were in high school?” I whispered, wrenching my face out of his rough hand. He yanked me back to him, practically crawling on top of me.
“Some of that is true, I’ll admit, but if you think I’m doing all this because of some words you said, then you’re more thick-headed than I thought.” Zayn said, slowly running his finger over my cheek and down my throat.
“Then tell me,” I begged, feeling new tears brewing in my eyes. The foul look in his eye darkened to something more, something dangerous.
“I don’t think I will,” he whispered, bowing his head down to brush his lips along my jaw. “I think we should do something else.”
I squirmed to push him off, catching the drift of his thoughts.
“No, please don’t.” I wanted to scream bloody murder, yell so loud that someone would surely hear me, but my words were muffled by his lips pressing against mine. I choked on a sob, wanting nothing more than the feeling of his cold lips off of me and to be back in Harry’s secure arms. Zayn shifted so he was completely on top of me, pinning my arms to the side. I felt something hard hit my thigh.
“Don’t do this, Zayn. I’m sorry for what I did to you! I should have never done anything to you in the first place,” I cried, struggling against his death grip. To my revulsion, during my struggling, I accidently bucked my hips up, hitting Zayn in his lower region.
“Then why did you,” he groaned, now sucking and nipping at my collarbones more harshly than before.
“My friends dared me,” I admitted, wishing that I never listened to my idiotic friends back then.
“Dared you, did they?” Zayn murmured, pushing his hand up my shirt, skimming over my black lacey bra.
“I’m sorry,” I squeaked, trying to shove him off me. My arms were staring to hurt from his fingers and my legs felt like lead. No, no, no, no, no, don’t give up, I willed myself. My anxiety levels were shooting through the roof now, my hands trembling and my body shaking, but Zayn didn’t seem to notice or care as he continued his assault underneath my shirt.
Suddenly, he stopped.
“Stand up,” he barked, pulling my up. I stood on shaky legs, scared about what he was thinking. Zayn switched me spots, so I was standing in front of him and he was seated on the bed.
“Strip for me,” Just those simple words made me hysterical. Tears poured down my cheeks, but I didn’t say a word. The aggressive look he gave me told me not to say anything. I cast a quick look at the door.
“It’s locked,” Zayn chuckled. I sucked in an unsteady breath and squeezed my eyes shut, raising the hem of my shirt over my head, dropping it on the floor. I hated this. I hated him. I hated that this was happening to me. I hated that Harry was sitting chained to a chair in the basement because of me. I hated myself. I hastily yanked down my pants, making sure to be less graceful about it as possible.
Maybe if I’m not sexy enough for him, then he’ll leave me alone.
But maybe that wouldn’t work because my face was beet red and covered with snot, if that didn’t turn him off then I doubt this would.
“You are such a whore, did you know that?” Zayn mused, shamelessly checking me out head to toe. “Black lace? Didn’t know you were the type.”
I looked down at my lace bra and matching panties. The only reason I wore them was because they were Harry’s favourite and I wanted to surprise him that night, but I ended up falling asleep early.
“Oh, Harry will get a kick out of this.” Zayn laughed and stood up, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me to his chest. His hands snaked around my back, stopping to pull on the snap to my bra and laughing when I flinched back.
“So beautiful,” he said quietly. I held my breath as he smashed his lips to mine once again, this time sliding his tongue past my lips. I gagged.
“Get on the bed. On your back.” Zayn hissed, roughly shoving me back before hovering over me with a look of dark lust in his eyes.
I’m so sorry, Harry.
When I woke the next morning, my stomach clenched and my whole entire body hurt. Reminiscence of last night came back to me one by one. I felt dirty, cheap, raw, disgusting, used, weak and powerless. The spot next to me was thankfully empty, but the giant dog was lying by the door, sound asleep. I glanced around the room again and again, hoping an idea would come to me. Nothing.
The sound of rattling chains dropped my heart to the floor. Wrapping around my wrist, was a set of gleaming handcuffs, tying myself to the bed post.
Finally, I allowed myself to just cry. To cry my heart out. To cry big, ugly sobs that racked my body until no noise came out of my mouth. I guess my cries woke the dog because the next thing I knew, the massive animal jumped onto the bed and plopped down, resting its head on my lap. I made no move to stroke it. Instead, I cried some more.
I didn’t know where Zayn went so I didn’t dare make any decision to shout Harry’s name. I didn’t want any more trouble for the both of us. Is Harry still even here? Did Zayn do anything to him? What was going to happen to me? Zayn boasted about how he wanted me dead, so when was he going to do it? Or was he going to keep me, like his own little slave? Sex slave, a voice inside my mind filled in. I shivered at the thought.
Ultimately, I couldn’t last any longer.
“Zayn!” I shouted. “Zayn! Harry! Someone!” I waited for some type of noise. The dog had flinched at my loudness, but it didn’t matter. “HARRY!” I shouted louder.
No one came upstairs. Not Zayn, nor Harry. No one answered me. No one probably even heard me.
So i feel like i'm going have to say stuff like 'We all know Zayn would never do something like this' blah blah but we've already had him murder people so why not.
PS this is an extra little update to make up for the lack of updates.