Valentine

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he speaks and stumble his way away from the glass shreds. “I should be asking you the same thing! I thought you were a burglar!” I scream and he chuckles only infuriating me. “Oh you think it funny? You think you’re funny? You think it is fucking funny to come in someone’s fucking house through their windows and scare the living fucking crap out of them?!” I scream on top of my lungs and he winces from my loud voice. “Keep it down will ya? And mind your language” he seethes and sits on my bed. What the fuck?

“No I will not keep it down and Get out of my house!” I yell and there is a lightning and soon a roaring thunder follows making me yelp and hold on to the chest of drawers. “Aw is the little princes scared of a little lightning?” he slurs in a condescending tone. “Shut up and get lost” I say. I don’t care if he kills for living and what not but he seriously scared me and who comes like this into someone’s house like that? And besides why is he here in the first place? “Why are you here in the first place?” I cross my arms over my chest and wait for an answer. I take a step near him and seriously the air around him stinks of beer. He is drunk! And in my house! There is no way this is going to end well.

He gets up from my bed and heads straight into the bathroom. He turns on the light and searches through my cabinets. “What the fuck are you doing?” I screech. My tampons, birth control and what not are there in the cabinet. I rush and shut the cabinet door. “If you’re embarrassed that I’ll see your tampons then too late, already saw them. And you’re pills as well. Why do you need them for? You haven’t fucked anyone I am sure” he slurs and I narrow my eyes at him. “It’s cute that you think I am virginal but no. And now if we’re done with the heart to heart chat then please leave my house”. He sits on the edge of the bath tub and that is when I roam I eyes on his face, his neck, his shirt –holy shit! His shirt! It has a major stain of a dark red color and I see drops of blood on the bathroom floor. I look back in my room and there is a stain on my bed as well. It makes me sick and I gag as I feel the pizza making its way out but I suppress it.

“Oh my god you’re bleeding” I covered my face with my hand from puking out on the floor. “Yeah no shit Sherlock” he snickered and my eyes snapped back to his. “I need bandages” he slurred and leaned against the wall. “Okay wait here. Don’t go through my things or walk around okay? Just stay here. I’ll bring in the first aid kit” I start rushing downstairs. “Oh and bring some alcohol” he shouts. I ignore him. I quickly go to the kitchen and retrieve the first aid kit box and a bottle of whiskey against my better judgment and rush back upstairs to him. “Open your shirt” I order and he cocks a brow. “Just fucking do it already!” I cry and with reluctance he takes off his shirt. I see a deep gash on his lower abdomen. “Oh Lord! You need to go to the hospital” I am about to pull out my cell but his holds my wrist and pulls me to him so our face is only inches away from his.

“No hospitals” he says in a serious tone. “But… but… but you’re bleeding! It can get infected and what not!” I try to reason but he shakes his head. “Just put on a bandage. I’ve had worse and still survived. I am sure I’ll survive this as well” he says. I just stare at the wound blankly. I don’t even know where to start or how to in fact. I just stare at the deep wound oozing blood. He takes the towel from my hand and swipes it across the wound once before pouring the whiskey on the wound. I hear a hiss and my eyes shoot up to see Zayn’s face contorting in pain. “Give me the fucking bandage” he bites out. That brings me out of my trans and I get moving. I place the towel more firmly against his wound and he hisses again, his hands rolling into fists.

He takes another large swig of the whiskey and I keep dabbing the wound and spray an antiseptic. He hisses again. “Fuck!” he cusses. I snort. He narrows his eyes at me. I shrug. “When I cuss its bad but when you do it, it’s fine? Talk about double standards” I snicker and he growls. “Its fine when I do it because I am an adult but you can’t because a ‘kid’” he bites and I force the towel a little harder than I should. He growls threateningly. It’s a warning. I know it and it almost makes me roll my eyes. Almost. But I don’t because I don’t want to test his limits. I just want this to be done with so that I can send him out and then I have to clean the bathroom and then my bed before my parents come here. They neglect me a lot and don’t really give a shit about me but even they would not let a pass seeing a big mess of blood in my room. And I don’t have the patience to explain them.

By the time I am done with his wound he has completed the bottle of whiskey. “All done. But I strongly suggest you go see a doctor. I have managed to close the wound but I do think you need stitches” I say and he shakes his head drunkenly “No I don’t need doctor”. He gets up and stumbles, falling on me. Thank god to the wall behind me otherwise I would have fell. I gasp realizing the little gap between us. With the close gap I can notice the lines near his eyes, the lines on his forehead probably a result of stress. I can see that his eyes are red and bloodshot. There is something very dangerous about this situation but still I am turned on a bit. Well you can’t really blame me, have you seen him?

I see his eyes wander my face and body and I feel self-conscious. “Um… so how did you get that wound?” I ask trying to divert my attention from our close gap and try to ease the tension in the room. “Bar fight” he slurs and droops his head almost touching the upper part of my cleavage. I pull back as much as I could and if you see me I am sure I look like a lizard stuck on a wall. But I am scared and turned on at the same time. This is so wrong. “Well it must have been a pretty nasty fight then” I continue. The thing that irks me is that he makes no move absolutely whatsoever to step back or move. Is he really comfortable this way? Or is he just doing this to irritate me? my dib’s on the latter. “Eh, I’ve been in worse” he shrugs. “See this one right here” he points to a small wound in the middle of his chest. “I was shot here in a fight. Hurt like a bitch” his face contoured as if the pain had returned but soon he was again staring into my eyes.

I didn’t like looking in his eyes this way, red and swollen. He had beautiful eyes but this way… something just didn’t look right. This is when I really pay attention to his body. It is littered with tattoos but in them hidden are his wounds. The bullet mark on his chest is encased in a tattoo of a lip with wings. There is a deep scar on his left collar bone. A thin jagged scar runs down the side of his right ribcages to his pelvic bone. Another bullet scar is on his bicep. It is not the scars itself that makes me look away from him but the idea of enduring that much pain that makes me wonder what kind of person he really is. “Oh little princess doesn’t like scars” he says in a condescending tone. I will myself to look at him. “I am not little” I bite out. “But you are a kid” he just smirks drunkenly. Given how much he has consumed I’ll think he’d probably pass out in a minute or so but he seems to handle himself.

“Do you want some painkiller?” I ask. He just cocks his head to the side studying me and then gives a single nod as an answer. I almost wiggle out and rummage through the top drawer of my cabinet. I kept some here just in case. Didn’t think I’d be needing them so fast though. I search but in vain. Then I remember I kept them on top of the cabinet because my dear mother had snooped around my things and found those so I put my hand up as much as I could to reach that place. Bingo. I pull a pallet down but a warm hand on my lower waist makes me jump and squeal. “What the fuck are you doing?” I yell. How dare he touch me! I know he is drunk and all but I will not tolerate this. Again he tries to pull up my tee-shit. “What the hell?” I punch his arm and he stumbles.

“You have a tattoo? You don’t look like the girl who has tattoos” he puts his hand out again but I slap it away. “Keep your hands to yourself and what kind of girl do think I am exactly?” I ask and cross my arms. He takes the medice from my hand and pop two in without water. “I dunno. You’re the spoilt rich brat. You have everything. You don’t respect anything. You think everything is a joke. You – ” “Okay I’m just gonna stop you right there. You don’t know who I am. You don’t know what I’ve been through. You don’t know shit about me so I suggest you shut the fuck up” I say, my anger getting the best of me. He instantly cages me between the wall and his body and again I’m struck by fear. “I told you not to cuss” he says, dragging his thumb across my lover lip. I can actually feel my lips tremble. He looks angry but his words are slurred. “But it is sexy as hell” he smirks and crashes his lips to mine catching me off guard.

My eyes are wide, wide as saucers, no scratch that, wide as the fucking serving plates! I am not the shy kind of girl. If it were any other guy and any other circumstances I would have reciprocated but I am not even sure what is happening right now. He is drunk. He is high from the pain killers he just took. He has a fucking hole in his stomach that I covered up just a few moments ago! He snakes his hand around my waist and yanks me towards him making me squeal. Taking this opportunity he inserts his tongue inside my mouth. I am still too dazed and still too scared to do anything. I try to push him away but he pushes himself on me, keeping both of us together.

I taste the heavy taste of whiskey mixed with hint of nicotine and the coppery taste of blood. It almost makes me gag and I try to push him again and this time he does but then starts to kiss my jaw and neck. This cannot be the way I died. This cannot be the way I died. I feel like yelling but I do not. If this was happening in any other circumstances I would have been ecstatic to have such a hot guy all over me but not like this. No, not like this. his lips find a soft spot below my ear and I gasp. He seems to understand that because he sucks and bites that spot more feverishly. It feels so good. No! no. it is not supposed to feel good. I try to push him again but in vain. He bites that spot a little harder than should be and I let out a loud moan but instantly shut my mouth. No. “Zayn let me go” I protest but he only bites my earlobe. “You want this no? You like this” he slurs. He is completely drunk.

“No I don’t want this. Just get off me you creep” I push him with all my might and he finally gets off me. He stands just a few inches away, our bodies still brushing. I see his dilated pupils. Please pass out. Please pass out. Please oh please pass out. I am chanting only these three words. “You look terrified” his callous hand brushes my cheek. I dart my eyes around to see if there is anything within my reach that can knock him out.

“Zayn do not touch me. You’re drunk and high. Just, sleep” I say but I realize he is in my bathroom and he can’t sleep here. He can’t be in this house when my parents return. I didn’t want to get into trouble for harboring a criminal. Following that my mind goes to all the blood that is spilled in my room. Fucking Hell! I close my eyes and rub my temple. “You know girls throw themselves at me. You should be lucky I am kissing you” his words make me wanna kick him in his groin or say something smart but I have realized none of those option are gonna help me out in this situation and might even make it worse so I keep quiet and fume in silence.

“Zayn…” I start but leans in again and I am sure that he’ll kiss me again and I have my hands balled into fists ready to punch him but instead of kissing me, he falls on me, putting all his body weight on me. He passed out. How the hell am I supposed to do with him now? Fuck!




A/N: FIRST OF ALL I WANT Y'ALL TO KNOW I WANTED TO UPDATE BUT I WAS GROUNDED AND DIDN'T HAVE MY CELL OR LAPTOP.
SECOND IS I HOPE Y'ALL LIKE THIS CHAPTER AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. :*

Notes