KULSUM'S POV.

I shut out Dr. Aasim's voice out as I stood up and all but ran out of his office. I stood in the middle of the hallway as I frantically looked around looking for anything that seemed out of place. Anything that will signify that he is here because he has to be. Every time it happens he's always here, somewhere around me yet I can't even tell.

My phone pinged again and dread filled me knowing what's coming next. It happens just like every other time. My breath hitched in my throat as I brought up my phone to my face again, swiping the screen I saw it.

It was a picture of me. Standing in the hallway right now. The look of fear painted on my face as I whipped my head around. I noticed the angle the picture was shot.

I whipped my head at the direction but I couldn't spot anyone out of place there. Doctors, patients and nurses were just causally walking. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

The sounds of footsteps make me swivel around quickly, my eyes widen with fear as I suspected that it is him. But it wasn't.

Instead of the face of the man that haunts my life, all I saw was Dr. Aasim running towards me, a look of concern etched on his face. But I didn't care about him.

With fear still chocking me, I turned around and all but ran out of the hospital ignoring the stares I received. They should be used to this by now, the last two doctors I met here, their sessions always ended up like this too. Heck every doctor I met, the sessions ended up like this.

12:00 is when my sessions end so they can't hold me back if I wanted to leave right away, hence, why no one tried to stop me.

As I made my way back to the car out of people's sight, my breathing came out labored. I could hear the sound of my heavy breathings as my gaze became blurry.

Yet somehow, I managed to make it to the car. The minute the escort opened the door for me, I got in and buried my face in my palms. I could feel his and the driver's gaze on me but I didn't pay any attention to them.

Truth be told is that I'm scared, I'm scared shitless. It scared me to know that he's this close to me and I can't do anything about it. It scared me to know that he's keeping tracks on me. It scared me to know that he's still after me and it scared me to know that he can get me at any time he wants and I can't do anything about it.

But most especially, it scared me to know that just like before, I can't do anything. I'm basically powerless against him. I know I have nothing to lose anymore, he'd already taken everything I ever valued much in this life but the fear is still there.

Still, I can't shake away the feeling that what I was told before was a complete lie. It had to be. I never believed it for one minute.

I've tried every possible way to avoid receiving that message, I tried changing my number, I tried turning my phone off, yet somehow it's either he finds my new number or he sends the message through my therapist's number. And every time he sends it to my therapist, the doctor informs my parents which only scare and worry them more than they already are. I rather deal with this mess alone that indulge them in it which is why I continued taking my phone with me.

It's not like I care about them that much—I do, but in this case they're more like liabilities.

Eventually the driver drove out of the hospital, thankfully this time he kept his gaze to himself. I still didn't lift my head up as the car moved. I was too scared honestly. I prepared myself for this numerous times but each time I tried, the walls I've built comes crashing down the minute I see that message.

I don't know how many minute sit took to reach back home but the minute I felt the car stop, I knew we must be at home. So, I didn't wait for anyone to open the car for me as I opened it myself and jumped out.

I walked in knowing that my siblings might probably be around but I highly doubt that. They all are successful and have a life of their own that actually involves working and being influencers in the society unlike me who have no future.

They're successful alright. That success of theirs was built on sacrifices. The ones they now 'claim' that they regret. I know they don't. And even if they do, it doesn't matter.

The only person that might be home right now is my brother, and the baby in the family, Zayn. He's just eighteen and he returned back from school last week as he is studying abroad.

My thoughts were confirmed when I passed by his room door and heard his voice. I walked two doors down and finally reached my room. Taking a hold of the handle, I turned it and got in closing the door behind me.

Rushing to the bed side drawers I pulled it open and pushed the pile of notepads and pens aside. I pulled the drawer underneath it and searched it too. Frustrated, I stood up and ran to the en-suite. I stood in front of the sink and pulled open the mirror cabinet, my hands wobbling as tears blurred my gaze.

I stopped midway realizing that I won't find what I'm looking for.

Right, my family took away all the drugs in sight.

Letting the thought sink in, I rest my back on the wall of the bathroom and slip down until I was sitting on the cold floor. I have no drugs, I have no companion, nothing to help me forget those awful memories.

And with that though engraved in my mind, I pulled my legs to my chest and cried. I cried till the darkness consumed me. At least, that will help me forget that awful memory.

~*~

Walking down the steps, I kept my gaze on the floor as I made my way to the dining room where we're all having dinner. As much as I shut everyone out, I attend dinners which we all have together just to calm my parents down. I might be emotionless and a douche sometimes but I still care about my parents in a way. I'm not as heartless as some people.

Taking my seat next to my elder sister, Sabrina, I didn't look up knowing all their gazes are on me. They didn't see my face yet but I know I look like bad—with swollen eyes, dark, and gloomy aura and my outfit isn't exactly helping as it consisted of yet another black hoodie and black slacks. Black is my thing now.

It wasn't always, once upon a time I was just like any other normal girl that had best friends and talk about boys whilst having the picture perfect life. I dress up all the time and had my life figured out but now everything is just in pieces.

My mother tied every possible way to stop me from wearing black outfits. She didn't care if I spent the rest of my life wearing hoodies but at least I should wear colorful ones. She replaced my closet times without number yet I always get rid of the outfits she got me and fill up my closet with black things with my money.

I served myself and was about to start eating when my phone pinged. Confused, I brought it to my face and wiped the screen to see the message that just got in.

Zayn-You look like shit.

I rolled my eyes slightly as I typed my reply.

Kulsum-Tell me something I don't know bro.

Zayn-Lemme see...You're the best sis ever?

I looked up and narrowed my eyes at Zayn who shrugged with a grin on his face. Keeping my eyes on him, I started to type back my reply before looking down to actually see what I'm typing.

Kulsum-What do you want dimwit?

Zayn-A round of battlefield on my PS?

Kulsum-You're on.

I watched as Zayn fist bumped the air in triumph not caring that the others were watching him. Putting back on his headphones, he continued chatting on his phone not really paying much attention to his food again.

Zayn is the one person in my family that I can actually tolerate and try to have a conversation with simply because he didn't see me as an addict that needs help but rather, as an elder sister he wants to hang around with more. Sometimes, I wonder if he's the elder one and not me considering he always knows what to say whenever I'm feeling down. Regardless, I love my younger brother.

What?

Just because I don't care about almost everything doesn't mean I'm not capable of having feelings too. At this point in my life, all I cared about most is Zayn, more than anyone in my family simply because he's my baby brother. I'd hate for him to go through what I went through.

Another thing about him is that he doesn't care what other people think of him—he got that from me obviously. I know the feeling, it's not a very good one.

He doesn't deserve that for any reason.

"So Kulsum, how was therapy?" My mother asked making me look up and meet her gaze.

I shrugged. I know it's disrespectful but try being in my shoes, my parents know that is the most social act they can get out of me and the closest thing to me talking to them.

They tried other conversations with me throughout dinner but still, the closest thing they got to me talking was shrugs and head nods here and there. Eventually they gave up and I found myself back in my room waiting for Zayn to come so as to play his game and get it over and done with.

That was when my thoughts went back to the message and him as I stayed alone in the room assaulted by my own thoughts.

Now the problem that stopped me from finding him is one thing.

I don't remember who he is or what he looks like as my memories of that day is hazy in my mind.

So in simple words, I don't know who is sending me the messages.

Yet I know one thing for sure, I'm scared of him as hell.

~*~

Today's update is here!

Zayn is and will always be my favorite charcter.

Love, Jannah.