CHAPTER 7 – DARK PLACES

Zayn's P.O.V

I lay in darkness, just smoking in my room with my blinds closed and lights off. I had hardly moved from this position in 4 days, just staring at the ceiling. It was like my body was incapable of accepting that she was gone. She was gone, gone, gone. At first he was angry, angry at himself for not reading her clearer. Maybe he could have done something that would have kept her here? But then he just felt so empty and hollow. Her words echoed in his head over and over again, confusing him even further.

I love you so much, ok? You have to remember that. Why had she said that, when she was just going to leave him? He had followed her for hours, trying to find her after he had lost her in the back streets of London. He had police and private investigators look for her, but none of them could find anything. She had just disappeared.

Sitting up, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I was haggard and pale, my hair was a mess, and my eyes were so gaunt it was nearly scary. Why did she leave me? I thought, getting up and punching the wall.

"I'M SORRY!" I yelled into the darkness. Why couldn't she see that I had tried to understand, that I just couldn't get why she was so sad? I had tried so hard, but it hadn't been enough. I leant against the wall, breathing heavily. I ran a hand over my face, trying to get her out of my head. It didn't work. Sliding down the wall, I leant my arms on my knees and hung my head. Finally, after days of just nothing, I began to cry. I had no idea how long I had been there, but eventually Louis came in and sat down next to me. He wrapped an arm around me, trying to make me feel better. It didn't work.

"Mate, it'll be ok, you know that? There was a reason, and one day we'll know. But for now, there's nothing we can do, so you're going to have to do something, or risk having to explain why you've been holed up in your room for days to the rest of the world. Do you want the hate of all our fans brought down on her?" he asked. I shook my head, still sobbing loudly. I lifted my head up and looked at him, my eyes red and raw from crying.

"I… I just loved her so much. It can't be possible to fill a hole this big, Lou. It just can't." I said, getting up and flopping back down on my bed. He saw the smokes on my bedside table, and I heard him sigh in exasperation.

"I thought you quit, Zayn?" he asked, clearly disappointed. Suddenly angry, I sat up and faced him, breathing heavily with emotion.

"I stopped for her, Louis. Why should I have to now she's gone? Just leave me alone!" I yelled at him. He flinched, dropped his eyes to the ground, and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. I sighed and lay back down on the bed, resuming my staring at the ceiling. The same questions flew around in my head, keeping me awake. My chest hurt and my stomach felt empty.

She's gone. She's gone. She's gone.

Georgia's P.O.V

I was walking through the streets again. It was cold as, and this time Zayn wasn't there to warm me up. It's your fault, all your fault. Kicking rocks into the gutter, I kept walking, keeping my eyes down to the ground. Since fleeing London, I had stopped in Doncaster and was just walking around the streets. I had no job, no flat, nothing. Just a dingy hotel room and a suitcase full of clothes I didn't wear. I wore Zayn's jumper, the one I stole from his room before leaving the house for the last time. It still smelled like him, and I didn't ever want to wash it.

It was starting to get dark, but I had no reason to return to my empty hotel room. So I kept walking, just letting my feet take me anywhere. Soon, I was tired and sat on a park bench to rest a bit. I should go back to the room, but I just couldn't go back to the room yet. So I sat there and stared at the stars a bit, watching them twinkle. It was a beautiful night, but everything looked dull and plain to me. Nothing was pretty or happy anymore, just a bland shade of grey.

Your fault, your fault.

Sighing, I stood up and worked my way back to the hotel, dragging my feet. When I finally went to bed, it was near midnight. Thoughts of Zayn circled around and around my head, refusing to go away. His smell overwhelmed me, and I curled up in a ball, cuddling his jumper. Unsurprisingly, I started to sob, the hole in my chest hurting so much I felt like I was being punched over and over again. I fell asleep eventually, but the same nightmare filled my dreams.

When I woke up, it was late morning and my phone was beeping continually. I had been receiving hundreds of texts from the boys, except Zayn. He obviously hated my guts right now, and I didn't blame him. I was a class-A selfish bitch and I deserved it. I rolled over and stared at the sun that came through the gap in the blinds. Tired and miserable, I picked myself up out of bed and got changed. I didn't wear Zayn's jumper today, trying to prolong the day that I had to wash it. instead, I tucked it safe under my pillow for when I got back. Trudging down the stairs, I looked outside and saw it was another overcast and rainy day. I headed straight out to a cafè for some coffee, and I went hunting around for a newspaper while I waited for my order. Finding a spare one floating around, I grabbed it and headed to my table, prepared to catch up on the events of the world. After about 3 minutes of scanning the first couple of pages, I came across an article that made my heart stop. A picture of Zayn filled one half of the spread, and a short article wrapped around it. I just stared at the picture, putting my finger on his lovely face.

It wasn't so lovely anymore – it looked gaunt and pale, like he hadn't seen sunlight for a couple of days. Turning to read the article, I nearly sobbed out loud at the contents.

One Direction's 'bad-boy' Zayn Malik has seen emerge from his house at last, after nearly a week of no sighting of the star. He had been shut up in his house for the whole time, never leaving the premises. The pale, haggard looking face is nothing like the lively, handsome face of the teenage heart-throb. The question on everyone's lips is – what kept him shut up in his house the whole time? Or more importantly, who?

Scrunching the paper up and chucking it across the room, I ran straight out of the shop, not caring about my coffee anymore. Why couldn't he just forget about me and move on? It had started to rain again, but I didn't care. I kept running until I couldn't see the shops of Doncaster anymore, until I could hardly feel my legs and was so numb with cold my fingers had lost all feeling. I didn't care anymore – I just needed to get away, far away.