Wasted.
enough
Martie sat by the window of Zayn's apartment. It was another dreary Sunday afternoon, she had yet to go home and see her husband. She was afraid to go back though, she was afraid of the consequences. Curling up in a ball on the window bench, Martie rested her head against the glass and watched the rain fall down on the quiet streets of London. No one was out in this cold wet weather, everyone was inside drinking tea and watching movies.
Couples were cuddling, kids were playing games, and the elderly would be doing crossword puzzles. Then there was Martie, sitting all alone by the cold window. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and closed her eyes for a moment. The soft pitter-patter of water hitting the glass rang in her ear as if singing a soft melody to her. She wanted to believe everything would be okay, but deep down inside the shadows of her heart, she knew it wasn't true. Pulling the decorative quilt closer to her body, Martie felt the tears coming to her eyes.
Zayn was watching her from the kitchen. He was standing by the counter, staring at her with saddened eyes. The truth was he didn't know what to do anymore, he was tired of this happening. Martie wouldn't help herself and everyone had tried to make her see, but she chose to turn the other cheek. Running his fingers through his hair, Zayn shook his head and let his head fall between his shoulders. Grabbing his cup of hot chocolate, he grabbed another for Martie and walked over to her. His footsteps were light on the wooden floors, so Martie didn't know he had approached her.
She saw his reflection in the window, but did not turn to face him. When he sat down on the bench beside her feet, Zayn held a white mug out to her. She glanced at it from the corner of her eye, but never moved to take it. Sighing softly, Zayn put the mug down on the end table not far out of reach and looked back at Martie. Nothing he said would make her change, he was afraid that soon she would end up dead. The thought of Martie being dead made his stomach churn.
"Martie," Zayn said softly, but she didn't respond. Her eyes seemed glazed over as she blankly stared out the window. "What are you going to do, Martie?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. She didn't even flinch, all she did was breathe.
It seemed like all Martie did was breathe. She didn't talk much anymore, her eyes seemed to lose their light, and her skin was growing pale. The once vibrant girl was broken and slowly dying, Zayn couldn't take it anymore. He wanted to remove himself from the equation. If Martie didn't want his help and wouldn't let anyone else help her, he would have to step out of her life. Licking his lips, Zayn put his mug down and reached for Martie's hand. She tensed slightly at his warm touch, but she didn't look to him.
"I can't keep doing this, Martie, I won't watch you go through this pain," Zayn explained to her softly. "It's enough."
Martie finally moved, she turned to look at him. Her green eyes stared into his for what seemed like hours. A single tear rolled down her cheek and Zayn reached to wipe it away.
"I understand," Martie said in a raspy voice. She pulled her hand away and stood up from the window bench. "I know what I have to do. Call me a cab please." Martie walked towards the guest room and Zayn watched her for a moment. Licking his lips, Zayn stood up and went to grab his phone to call her a cab.
Martie had made her decision, she was going to put an end to it all that night.
It was the only way.
Couples were cuddling, kids were playing games, and the elderly would be doing crossword puzzles. Then there was Martie, sitting all alone by the cold window. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and closed her eyes for a moment. The soft pitter-patter of water hitting the glass rang in her ear as if singing a soft melody to her. She wanted to believe everything would be okay, but deep down inside the shadows of her heart, she knew it wasn't true. Pulling the decorative quilt closer to her body, Martie felt the tears coming to her eyes.
Zayn was watching her from the kitchen. He was standing by the counter, staring at her with saddened eyes. The truth was he didn't know what to do anymore, he was tired of this happening. Martie wouldn't help herself and everyone had tried to make her see, but she chose to turn the other cheek. Running his fingers through his hair, Zayn shook his head and let his head fall between his shoulders. Grabbing his cup of hot chocolate, he grabbed another for Martie and walked over to her. His footsteps were light on the wooden floors, so Martie didn't know he had approached her.
She saw his reflection in the window, but did not turn to face him. When he sat down on the bench beside her feet, Zayn held a white mug out to her. She glanced at it from the corner of her eye, but never moved to take it. Sighing softly, Zayn put the mug down on the end table not far out of reach and looked back at Martie. Nothing he said would make her change, he was afraid that soon she would end up dead. The thought of Martie being dead made his stomach churn.
"Martie," Zayn said softly, but she didn't respond. Her eyes seemed glazed over as she blankly stared out the window. "What are you going to do, Martie?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. She didn't even flinch, all she did was breathe.
It seemed like all Martie did was breathe. She didn't talk much anymore, her eyes seemed to lose their light, and her skin was growing pale. The once vibrant girl was broken and slowly dying, Zayn couldn't take it anymore. He wanted to remove himself from the equation. If Martie didn't want his help and wouldn't let anyone else help her, he would have to step out of her life. Licking his lips, Zayn put his mug down and reached for Martie's hand. She tensed slightly at his warm touch, but she didn't look to him.
"I can't keep doing this, Martie, I won't watch you go through this pain," Zayn explained to her softly. "It's enough."
Martie finally moved, she turned to look at him. Her green eyes stared into his for what seemed like hours. A single tear rolled down her cheek and Zayn reached to wipe it away.
"I understand," Martie said in a raspy voice. She pulled her hand away and stood up from the window bench. "I know what I have to do. Call me a cab please." Martie walked towards the guest room and Zayn watched her for a moment. Licking his lips, Zayn stood up and went to grab his phone to call her a cab.
Martie had made her decision, she was going to put an end to it all that night.
It was the only way.