It's 5 am and he's not back yet. Even after calling him a million times, I still felt my stomach drop every time he didn't answer. I find his box of cigarettes in one of the cabinets, it looks fairly new as there is only 2 packs out of 20 missing from it. I have to stop pretending he's out getting something and that he'll be back soon because clearly, he's pissed enough to not be back right now.

I open the carton and tear off the silver paper from the top. I do what Zayn does- I take the first cigarette and flip it over, once it's the last one I'll smoke it and make a wish. I hold one of the other cigarettes in between my lips, lighting it up with the turquoise lighter Zayn got for me.

The anticipation of him coming home is eating at me. I feel like a nervous wreck. What am I supposed to say? What if he comes back and tells me he doesn't want to be with me anymore? I would understand, in a way, because I would leave me. Everything is a big mess right now and I'm the one to blame.

Am I going to lose him? What would things be like if I went back home after all of this? Would I ever feel okay after Zayn, or would I forever live with his presence imprinted on me, like leaves in fresh concrete? I don't want to go back home, not after all of this. Especially not after tonight. Would my father see me the same way?

I don't want my whole life to be mistaken as you.

I'm sinking myself in these thoughts.

But the door opening is like music to my ears and seeing him at first makes me let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I notice how droopy his eyes are and bloodshot. The white shirt he's wearing has blood on it, and I know it's his when I see his knuckles. His ghostly complexion is still beautiful and I don't care if he's drunk, I just want him to be okay here with me.

"You're still up," he says sourly, "I went for drinks."

"With who?" I watch him walk in and he plops down on the couch.

Zayn smirks, "With some friends, Anastasia. Friends from work."

He smells like alcohol, cigarettes, and oddly, his cologne. He's drunk but not drunk enough to slur or stumble around. I'm grateful for this.

"I missed you so much," I sit next to him, I feel him place his arm around me. "I felt so crazy not knowing if you were coming back."

"I'll always come back for my girl," He says lowly, "Get me a drink, Ana."

I frown, sadness seeping deeper into me. "You don't want to go to bed instead?"

"No, I want a drink. I'm just gonna shower and go to work in a little while, sleeping right now is pointlesssss!"

He must sense I'm about to get up, because he pulls me closer to him. "Give me a kiss, Anastasia. You know how fucked up it was not having you there with me? Not being able to touch you is the worst fucking torture."

"You left me here, all alone."

"I know, fuck, I know." Zayn pulls me into his lap and his hands immediately go under his shirt to roughly paw at me. He gives me a peck on the lips quickly. "Did you miss me, baby?"

I just let him touch me, knowing that his wandering hands will leave marks eventually. It doesn't bother me. "I did, so much. I stayed up waiting for you. I called you so many times."

"Phones dead."

"Why is there blood on your shirt?"

Zayn chuckles, his mouth attaches itself to my already purple and pink neck. He sucks hard on my bruised skin, whispering against it. "You don't wanna know."

"But I do..." I cry out in pain.

"I hurt someone. It was really crazy. That's why my phone's dead, we recorded it."

I feel sick. "Who's we? What did you do?"

"Harry, Liam... they're my best mates you know? Wait, wait, wait, you won't know. Because you're never gonna meet them."

There's no point in me asking him anything, I know what the answer is. But still, I do, because I know he's still mad at me and he might as well just get it all out now. "Why?"

"You belong to me. Only me, my property. I don't want them to look at you, it'll piss me off. Only I should be able to look at you. If I could keep you locked away up here, I would. But you won't let me."

Zayn seems genuinely sad about it.

"I'm gonna show you the video later. It was so funny, you know?"

"I don't wanna see it, daddy, don't make me."

He shakes his head. "You have to. It'll teach you a lesson. I have a lot planned for us tonight, so maybe during breakfast."

I hug him tight, not noticing when I began to cry all over again. "I want us to always be together."

"You do?"

I nod.

"I don't want you to say that, Ana," his voice is like a child's, so sad and small.

"Why not?"

He sighs, "Because if you did, you'd only want me."

"I do, Zayn."

"I don't believe that anymore. Maybe I will someday. Can you get me a drink now? I want to keep drinking. Liam was being such a bitch about it, i'm not that drunk."

Once I'm off his lap, I immediately do as I'm told. I don't know why it scares me that he's drunk and that he's only going to keep drinking. It creates a sort of panic in me mixed with desperation of not knowing how things will be between us now. It seems as if everything has changed but not really. I know i've fucked up, he knows it, but will there ever be someway I can fix it? He is clearly not the best man to be around if he's intoxicated, but I just can't see myself leaving his side, especially not when he's like this.

I start to feel like a little girl, ironically, as I get the bottle of whiskey out of the cabinet. I start to feel like maybe this is who i've been this entire time, just fighting to be someone i'm not. I feel very small now, it's relieving to just let everything else go and be as vulnerable as I am.

I place the bottle on the table, along with a glass and some ice. Zayn just watches me, his hungry eyes burning into me. I sit next to him, greeted by his big hand on my thigh.

"I really missed you. I want you to drink with me." He says nonchalantly, ignoring the ice and glass, and reaches right for the bottle. He takes a large drink of it, making a funny expression afterwards because it burns so bad.

"Why do you want me to drink with you?"

He smirks suspiciously. "Because I'm gonna fuck you so hard you cry, and maybe if you're drunk, it'll hurt a little less."

"I'm really sore, Zayn."

"So what?" He replies coldly.

Zayn gives me the bottle and I take it from him, his expectant eyes impossible to disappoint. I bring it to my lips, immediately tilting it up to allow the liquid entrance. It burns so bad as I swallow it, it's disgusting. It tastes fucking horrible, but I keep drinking from it until Zayn looks satisfied and until I feel really dizzy. I don't know how much I drink from it because I lose track of time when Zayn just keeps telling me to drink more and more of it. I don't know what time it is and I'm pretty sure that he's not going to work today, at least not anymore. I wonder what he's thinking to me as he looks at me with those big, golden eyes.

"How do you feel?" He grins, holding my hand tightly.

"I feel really feathery, yeah, but my stomach feels funny."

"Feathery?" He laughs loudly and I giggle a little, wrapping my arms around him.

He looks into my eyes like everything bad between us has evaporated. He's so lovely, really. How else can I describe him? He's the most wonderful man I've ever known, so caring and protective over me. I know he cares so much for me and my safety, he wants me to be good to myself. He wants to be good to me.

Zayn's lips meet mine and they tangle in each other, his soft mouth making me needier for him by the second. He's kissing me hard, his hands lost in my hair. The room gets really hot as his tongue laces with mine, but that seems unimportant when he starts touching me everywhere.

"Let's go to the room," he says in between kisses, "I'm gonna fuck you so hard the neighbors downstairs are gonna complain."

I'm dizzy when I stand up, intoxication hits me suddenly. Zayn grabs my hand and leads me to our room, probably with a very smug look on his face. All I can do is giggle at how my body seems to be glowing because he's touched me. It always feels like this.

We enter the room and he leads me to the bed, where he pushes me down roughly. He takes off his blood stained shirt and then his arm body covers me, the desperation I feel for him diminishes the moment I'm this close to him.

Very suddenly, his mouth leaves mine and his warm body leaves mine cold. He's gone in his top drawer for something, I hear it close moments later. He comes back abruptly with rope and his intimidating frame looms over me. He dips his head and brushes his lips over mine briefly, only to pull me up on the pillow immediately after. Zayn smirked as he grasped my hands and held them on top of my head. He tied the rope skillfully around my wrists, pulling them tight, and then he attached the same rope to the bed frame.

He pulled the pajama shorts I was wearing off, along with my panties. At first I was confused about what he'd do about the t-shirt I was wearing, until he tore it off in one swift movement.

I was drunk with desire for him. It was like an angel was touching me when I felt his hands all over my body, when I felt his hand running up my thigh. Leaning over me, he only smiled slightly as he slipped a finger inside me.

"You look so scared, it's driving me crazy."

The pressure of his finger inside only heightened the insane craving I had for him. I moaned and arched up against his hand, pulling my hands against the rope. He lowered his mouth to my lips and while our tongues tangled together, he slipped in another finger. While he was gentle with the first one, his movements grew harder.

He tore his lips from mine and moved over my breasts and down my stomach with his hot kisses. His fingers moved inside me forcefully and painfully, making me cry out in both pain and complete bliss. It wasn't until he completely stopped that I grew confused. My head was spinning. Or maybe it was just our room that had suddenly began to go round and round like a carnival ride.

Zayn untied the rope from the bed frame, leaving me extremely confused and pouty with disappointment.

"Wha-"

He cut me off by grabbing a fistful of my hair, pulling, and giving me a direct command. "Roll over onto your stomach."

His sudden change in demeanor scared me. It wasn't just that I was imagining things, but he was seriously angry and in control now. His forcefulness and power he exuded made me shiver.

With my long hair still in his hands, I rolled over, then held perfectly still while he piled pillows under my waist. It seemed like every one of his movements was perfectly calculated and executed. I felt him retying my hands behind my back, this time a lot tighter.

He tenderly ran his hand up the back of my thigh and over my behind, caressing my skin. He spanked me once, a loud smack resonating through the eerie room. I cried out once, in only pain, and everything was silent until he did it again. This second hard smack made me pull against my restraints and cry out, the pain worsening because of how tight the rope was against my skin.

"You'll think twice before saying any stupid shit now, won't you?"

Zayn leaned over me and grabbed my hair, stuffing two of his fingers into my mouth, "You're my girl. Just my girl. You'll learn soon enough."

He tugged on my hair, pulling my head back. Another smack echoed around the room, then another. He kept at it until I was really sobbing, still delirious with want.

It took me by surprise when he pulled my head further back by my hair, craning my neck up at an almost too painful angle. Then he pushed my head back down on the pillow and for a moment I couldn't breathe. Zayn forced his c*ck in me suddenly, moving slowly in and out at first. He then began to thrust in and out of me so violently while I moaned against the sheets, tears wetting my cheeks as I let him fuck me senseless. His hands reached around my throat and clamped around it. I choked, dazed and lightheaded all at once.

"Fuck, you know how beautiful you look like this?" He whispered, letting go of my neck.

I gasped for air, only for him to stop completely. He slipped out of me, throwing the pillows under my waist on the floor to turn me over. It was as if he was giving me some sort of break.

But I was wrong, just as wrong as I was about everything else. He smacked my face, sending a sharp pain across my cheek. I wanted him all over me. He couldn't possibly know how much. His body ravaged mine and the pain of the rough handling was teasing me with all these strange sensations. Every ounce of pain sent a spark of desire through me. As he forced himself deep into me, I arched my back in pure ecstasy. His c*ck pounded into me, he completely stopped worrying about how loud my crying got by the second. I couldn't contain my loud moans as he took me and made me his, everyone could probably hear us downstairs.

"You're mine," he whispered, his hands wrapping around my neck once more. "I'll kill anyone who even looks at you the way I do."

His desperate thrusts and words only made me writhe and the pit in my stomach grew deep. I started to feel myself going over the edge with bliss, I knew Zayn noticed this.

"I'm y-yours, only you-yours."

All was right in the world, until it really wasn't.