The Memory Jar [Zayn Malik]

Chapter 16: Confessing

So first of all, I'm really sorry this is late. >.<  I'm sick and school has been a big ball of stress so it's all just... blech. Point is, I'm sorry, and I hope you all can lovingly forgive me.

Anywho, first thing is, CHAPTER DARE WINNER! I have to say I'm really blown away by the amount of participation, thank you all so much! Nearly fifty people participated, which is about five times more than I expected, so that's great. The winner is..... @AdrianaBrooks! She was the first commenter to get it right, but several others of you did as well! So what I was really looking for was: Quitting smoking. Well done to you all! :)

Second, this is not my best chapter. I'm just warning you right here, right now, okay? I added the first part after I wrote the second part, so it's all a little weird, and editing was minimal. I don't know, but I really owe an update so I'm posting it before I rip my hair out. 

But the end is near guys! At least... the beginning of the end. And you'll all hate me for it, but it'll still be a blast! Enjoy the last moment of (almost) peace, because i can tell you right now it's not staying for long.   >:D

Okay, you guys are great! Thank you so much for reading! As usual, please continue to vote and comment to let me know your thoughts! I love feedback! :) 

Happy December first! :)

Zayn

            “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about this Zayn?”

            “No,” I grunt, continuing to move around the kitchen, putting together a sandwich.

            I wish I could just be left alone sometimes. I mean, in a way, Harry is the one that really started all this thinking, all these feelings. Ever since he had that damn conversation with me about my relationship with her. 

            “Zayn, c’mon. You’re going to have to face up to everyone soon enough,” Harry protests, following me to the dining room table and sitting next to me. “Talk to me.” 

            I don’t want to talk to anyone; I don’t want to face up to this. Just like kissing Dana, when I face up to things, it only seems to make things worse. 

            Just like if I let Dana know about this huge lie, it’s all over. Facing up to why I acted the way I did the other night won’t help anything either.

            Harry then pulls my food away, and no matter how many times I glare at him and reach for it back, it doesn’t work. He still refuses to let me eat in peace. 

            “I hate you Styles,” I scowl, finally giving up. “You know that?” 

            My fingers twitch and I reach up to chew on my nails again, which are already close to nonexistent from the past day of biting them.

            “You make crap sandwiches,” Harry retorts, before frowning and pulling my hand from my mouth. He harshly pulls it towards himself and examines the stumps closely, frowning deeply. 

            Letting out a sigh, he shakes his head. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” he says, releasing my hand and standing. “Stay here.” 

            As I hear his feet thud up the stairs, I examine my fingers and see that they do look pretty bad. There are many cuts, old and new, and blood crusts the surface of every one. The nails are jagged and mere stumps, just as the cuticles are ripped and red.