I wake up in Zayn's apartment, groggy and confused as ever. I'm wrapped in a black blanket and fluffy pillows surround me, but there is no sign of him anywhere.

I push said blankets off me, sitting up to take a minute for myself. Everything that had happened was too much, and the moment it all came back to me, I let out an uncontrollable whimper. Seeing those images of my bloody father- all scarlet, lifeless, and nonexistent come to my mind so vividly was making me queasy.

My father was dead. The man responsible for years of my loneliness and heartache was no more. Despite my anger towards him, still, I felt an unfamiliar stinging in my heart. He wasn't a good man, but he was my dad, and I suppose he was the best dad he could be. Cold tears stream down my cheeks, but I wipe them away quickly, choosing not to dwell on my father. It's wrong of me to be sad this way, because I feel as if I have lost a distant, unknown relative, instead of the one who raised me. There is a hole in my heart, one that has developed because of my loss. But the harsh reality is that this isn't the first person I've lost and it's not the last one either.

I sigh, standing from my spot on the mattress, needing to speak to Zayn.

The hallways and rooms of the penthouse make me feel so much nostalgia. I feel as if I had never even left anywhere, even though the last time I was here everything was different.

Zayn is in his office, not doing much, but staring at his computer screen. He hears me come in and turns his attention to me, his expression not giving me too much to go off.

"I'm really sorry."

Eyes sparkling, he moves his chair closer to the couch I've made myself comfortable on.

"Me too," I said.

"I've missed you," Zayn confesses, not really looking at me. "I was a mess when I heard you were with... them."

I offer a sympathetic smile, not exactly sure what else to do. "It was a setup."

"Anastasia, you know I want you to stay."

Even though his words make everything seemingly alright in that aspect of my life, I feel wrong. I was the one who messed it all up.

He grows impatient with my silence. "Do you want to stay?"

"I don't know."

Guilt hits me right in the chest when I see his hurt expression. "I thought maybe if I brought you here, you'd wanna stay. With me."

"I love you, Zayn, I do... but I don't think that what I did was so good."

"I think I should be the judge of that, Ana. I just wanna start over, that's all I want."

I give him a good look. His caramel complexion and golden eyes are so radiant, but the once passionate gaze he possessed is long gone. Now, there is a quiet rage, a clearer mean streak that just pushes me to the edge with curiosity. Am I going crazy? He's killed the people around me, for Christ's sake. My own father. But I feel so compelled to be in this monster's arms. My mind betrays me with putrid thoughts. Just how bad can he be? Is he like a wounded animal who bites at their wound to attack the pain?

I take his hand in mine and caress his cheek, admitting to myself in that moment that I truly do not care about myself anymore. And once I do, something is immediately different, like the air is warmer.

"I've missed you so bad," he says, "tell me what to do and I will."

"Let's talk about it more, okay? Before we get back together, we need to really talk."

He nods. "You're right, but just know I'd do anything."

"I-"

He groans when we both divert our attention to Harry coming in to the office unannounced. He's strangely cheerful, wearing a goofy grin on his face.

"What now?" Zayn asks, obviously annoyed.

"Liam's downstairs. Has to do with the issue earlier."

Zayn looks at me sadly, like he's upset he needs to go and can't take me for obvious reasons.

"Go," I say quietly, "I'll be fine."

Harry chirps in. "I'll stay with her, man, no worries."

I frown, confused as to what's going on in his head. I'm praying Zayn doesn't buy it, but I know he'd rather have Harry as my babysitter than leave me alone.

He sighs, kissing my head. "Okay, thanks, Harry. I'll see you later, Ana."

I nod, watching him walk out of the office. Seconds later I hear the door close, I know whatever he's doing is probably urgent. Harry just watches me for a bit, but he closes the door, and takes a seat next to me.

"We need to talk," he announces.

I scoff. "Yeah. We do. So explain."

"To make a long story short, we just thought Z was gonna hurt you beyond reason. We just wanted to help you, and my sister had good intentions, or so I thought. It obviously all went to shit when she had her little meltdown, but I swear that we didn't intend for it to go that way. We were really feeling bad about it, Liam doesn't even know how to face you."

As I take all of it in, it seems like a reasonable explanation. But why the interest in helping me? Why risk getting in serious trouble with someone who won't think twice before putting them 6 ft under?

His expression is of true remorse, but my question lingers.

"Why did you wanna help me?"

"Because... because I'm attracted to you, Anastasia. I don't know why but I am. And I didn't - I don't- want you with him."

His confession nearly knocks me over, my head is going in a million directions. It's when he kisses me that I'm feeling extremely exposed.

I'm frozen, unable to comprehend what's going on. But a familiar sensation creeps up on me, the sinking feeling of knowing I'm doing something bad.

He's surprised when I dejectedly kiss him back, letting him touch me as if he owns me. My heart is sinking and sinking, but I can't say no, even if I don't wanna do this.

I can feel his hands under my shirt, and his fingers crawl into my panties, as he's managed to get me under him. They're cold and gross, but it's impossible to say anything when I feel him shove a finger in me, a sharp pain following.

"Come on," He whispers as I squirm. "How long has it been since you slept around? Don't pretend you don't like it."

"Come on, stop.."

I hear his zipper, I feel bare, and then I'm sobbing like a 13 year old. I'm stuck and scared like when I was 13 and this happened to me. He's in me and I'm refusing, time not moving at all anymore. Harry doesnt seem to mind my sobbing, but is visibly bothered because I'm frozen there.

I beg, but he never hears me. And just then I hear the front door.

"Zayn!! Please!!" I scream, watching as the door flies open and Harry scrambles off me.

I get off the couch, in pain and sobbing, watching him become enraged. He knows what's happened.

"Ana, baby.. Harry what the fuck?!" Zayn grabs him by his neck, slamming him down on the hardwood floor. "I'm going to kill you. I'm going to fucking kill you."