graffiti - z.m.

{ 11 }

The small bathroom was filled with the scent of his cologne that I had already grown familiar to; that and the strong scent of shampoo and shaving cream. It wasn’t as clean as my own bathroom - I had my very own which was connected to my bedroom just like my father had his own and a third was connected to the guestroom in the very end our huge apartment. But Zayn's was still tidy and surprisingly clean considering he was a guy living on his own. Or well I couldn’t be sure he had a girlfriend. I didn’t think so. I hoped not. Why the hell would I think that? I quickly shook the stupid thought away.

I hitched the dress up over my head after wondering whether or not I should lock the door. I had put my ear against the white wooden door and held my breath; not a sound had been heard from his bedroom so I figured he had returned to the living room.

Nevertheless I had with easy fingers turned the lock, cheeks blushing at the idea of him having heard it. I wasn’t that frightened of what he might do anymore - but you could never know.

The dress fell to the floor as wavy silk and I seated on the edge of the bathtub again turning my body so my feet were placed on the white inside of the bathtub. I wiggled my toes and observed just how dirty they actually were in contrast to the white clean inside of the tub after having walked for miles through Brooklyn. Struggling a little with the hand shower I finally found a comfortable temperature and flinched as I let the water run over the open wounds from the blisters. I forced my lips sealed; if I had been at home I would without doubt have been swearing out extremely loudly. Maybe even gasping from the stinging pain. But I didn’t want Zayn to hear me whimper.

It didn’t take long to get cleaned and it felt great when I - now with two band aids on both of my heels - slipped into the dress again. I dared to look at myself in the little mirror; not having done so till now. I looked horrible just like I had feared; my hair was a mess to say the least. Blonde strands were tangled everywhere like a damn jungle and my makeup was smeared from the tears. I just noticed the shade of darkness under my eyes which I hadn’t seen there in years! I always got enough sleep - always.

My eyes sought desperately over the little bathroom searching for some equipment to help me look less … messy. My breath became quicker as the sudden thought of Louis’ lips pressed against mine filled my mind. It washed in over me. The way his hand had travelled through my hair and down my body over the dress. The way I had been running with all the power I could muster. The way his hot breath had brushed in over my neck leaving shivering marks of a predator.

A sob pushed through my body and I splashed tap water into my face; again and again and again. I tried to wash it off. Wash off the memories and the hurt. Wash it all away. But the water couldn’t reach into my mind like that. With a gasp I placed my hands on either side of the sink feeling the cold water drops travel down my heated skin which still shivered; over my cheekbones, chin, down my neck. I had my eyes closed tightly. But even in the dark I was back in the room with Louis. I could feel his hands feel their way up my body with force. My heart was beating out of control.

Rapidly my hand flew up to cover my mouth as salty tears started blending with the water drops. While the memory of today washed in over me like a tsunami; I was also panicking at the thought of Zayn might being able to hear me. That maybe he would come and knock on the door or start mocking me for the puffy eyes and trembling hands. Frantically my eyes found the mirror in front of me and the sight shocked me; my eyes watery and cheeks warm, stained with tears. Though the smeared makeup was still faintly visible most of it had been washed off by the water. Somehow I ended up seated on the floor with my back against the door and knees up under my chin; trying to calm my frantically beating heart, single sobs escaping my pink lips.

[zayn’s pov]

I was holding my breath as I entered my bedroom; she had been in there for 15 minutes. How long could it possibly take to fix two heel wounds? I had gotten rid of my shoes - more for comfort than for practical need as it made less sound or so I had convinced myself.