The song for this chapter is Persephone - Tamino.

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Zayn

Nothing about anything makes any form of fucking sense to me.

The events that have occurred in the last twelve hours have all formed in my brain like a huge clusterfuck of emotions and scenes that I would do absolutely anything to push away and forget. The sounds of the bullets ricocheting through the air keep piercing my eardrums as a sick and twisted reminder of what none of us could predict would be your fate. I keep mumbling out an array of sorry's in some pathetic hope that one of them will shake you awake.

You haven't woke up yet, my love.

You've been laying on the hospital bed with a multitude of different tubes and machines connected to your body; every tube is like a reminder that I failed.

I should have kept you safe.

That's all I've ever wanted to do.

From the day that I first laid eyes on you all of them years ago, when you didn't even know who I was, when I protected you from the one thing that I know has haunted and scarred you.

I'm so sorry, baby girl.

I'm so fucking sorry.

I'm sat here and replaying every single moment in slow motion in my head to try and pick apart a possible moment that I could have stepped in quicker and saved you from that fucking piece of vermin who could only feel powerful with a weapon in his hand.

Harry killed him.

I'm unsure if you heard that bullet when I had you cradled in my arms trying to get you to hold on for me; you tried so fucking hard, baby.

I'm so proud of you.

I wish I could have done something to make you feel more comforted at that moment, darling. I held you so tightly in my arms and did everything I could to make you feel more at ease. I didn't know if those were your last moments so I did everything I could.

I even lied and told you that Harry was there.

The truth is he wasn't there, baby.

I know that he blames himself, CeCe. He attacked Dwayne from the back and Dwayne pressed the trigger to fire the bullet straight into your chest. The colour on Harry's face drained instantly; his eyes went black and expressionless, a few seconds later he fired the second bullet that killed Dwayne. As soon as he was sure Dwayne was dead, he fled.

Nobody has seen him since.

He hasn't been to see you, darling.

I'm here, André's here and Seth's here.

Niall was here but Seth ordered him to go and try and find Harry.

He's left you a cake for i- when you wake up.

André cussed him the fuck out for it though, he said you wouldn't be hungry when you wake up but I reassured Niall you'll love it.

It's a cake in the shape of an avocado.

I don't think you'll love it; you'd much rather have a cigarette and a glass of whiskey.

I wish that you would wake up, my love. I wish you could tell Harry that this wasn't his fault and put his mind at ease. If I know him like I think I know him then he'll be tearing himself apart over all of this and trying to kill himself slowly by being reckless and impulsive.

It's selfish for me to be writing all of this when I know that you two merge like sugar and spice but darling, I can't help it.

There's so fucking much I wish I could tell you.

There's so much darkness that surrounds us; so much death and heartbreak and acceptance of less than what we all deserve just to stay alive. I'm sick of surviving, Celeste.

I just want to live.

I want you to live.

That's all I fucking want.

You just twitched in your deep slumber.

All three of us saw it and instantly sat up in our seats in hope that you'd have opened those dark chocolate brown eyes of yours and give us a sign that you're still fighting. You have so much love surrounding you, baby.

Love that isn't fake love.

We haven't reached out to your father or Lana; one of the main reasons being that I don't fucking trust Lana. Too much just doesn't add up to me about what happened in the lot when we were trying to find the storage locker. How the fuck did Dwayne know we were there? I'm sorry, my love, I know that this isn't the shit that I should be pouring out but I just want you safe.

I never want you to be in this position again.

There's so much pain that's coursing through my veins right now that's beginning to manifest itself into pure anger and rage; my vision is turning red the more I look at your angelic features and see all of the tubes connected to you. I wish that I could have done something, CeCe.

I really do.

André is sat on the opposite side of your hospital bed, his head in his hands as he rests his head on the bed. He's blaming himself too, baby.

We all are.

Seth isn't an openly emotional person, I think the amount of weed he smokes has suppressed any form of emotion he's ever had, but I can even see a hint of distress etched into his features.

We all just want you to wake up, baby.

Please wake up.

My hand is holding onto yours as if it's the last time I'm ever going to get to feel your touch again. Your hand is cold. It feels foreign but familiar at the same time. I just want to caress your hair and cradle your face in the palms of my hands. I know that I'm overstepping so many lines here, perhaps even breaking the boy code or whatever, but I couldn't give a fuck right now, angel.

I know he's not to blame but where the fuck is Harry, now?

It should be him sitting at the side of your bed and comforting you with his touch, not me and André.

He's got no excuses.

We're all fucking hurting.

That's just it though, isn't it?

Harry comes first.

No matter what the fucking consequences are of his impulsive and reckless decisions, Harry will do them anyway because that's what he feels like doing at that moment.

Maybe I'm being too harsh but a small little fragment of me is blaming Harry for this.

Why the fuck did he attack Dwayne from behind like that when he knew that you were at the receiving end of the bullet?

I wish I had all of the answers for you, my darling.

I really wish I did.

My thoughts are so all over the place right now, CeCe. I could yell and scream at you for being your usual fearless, reckless and brave self but at the same time, I want to shower you with all of the affections and love that you deserve. There's so much that we haven't yet discussed and talked about.

I haven't had the chance to come clean to you about what I've been hiding.

There's so much that's been unsaid and so much that I need you to understand. We have no privacy in this hospital room that reeks and smells of death.

The death of our old lives.

Nothing will ever be the same after this; whether you wake up or decide that your time is up, all of our worlds have been shaken and impacted by your presence.

You're so full of life, baby.

You light up a room when you walk in, you make heads turn, you make grown men shake in their spot as you allude and leak out confidence.

You've had such an impact on me, my girl.

I'll never ever be able to articulate to you the profound impact that you've had on me. No word in the dictionary would ever be able to give you the justice that you rightfully deserve. There will never be another woman that will be able to successfully have me weak at my knees and speechless like you do. You know me, CeCe, you know that I can't shut my fucking mouth. Yet when I'm with you, I'm struggling to form a coherent sentence.

That's the Celeste Delgado effect, my love.

That's your effect.

Seth's just said that he's going to burn The Young Knives tattoo parlour to the ground.

I don't think that's justice enough.

I suggested that we make each and every single one of them suffer in the most sadistic and twisted ways that we could possibly come up with.

André said he'd drink to that.

I feel like you've become the glue that sticks our dysfunctional lot together, darling. I really don't think you understand that you are the reason we're all together in this room right now. If Harry were here, I'd thank him for bringing you into our lives.

He's not here though, is he?

And he's brought you to us in his web of falsifications.

He's not truthful.

He's not honest.

But he's my best friend.

For that, my love, I can only apologise on his behalf.

It's physically hurting my chest, Celeste. The fact that there is no certainty on whether or not you're going to open those mesmerising eyes of yours is making me feel like I'm spiralling further than you did all of those years ago. You erased the whole segment of your life from your brain to the point that you can't remember a single thing that happened that night. You were so distraught, princess. You were trembling, shaking and wailing in a way that could have broken the coldest of men in this world. I held you. I cradled you. I cradled you the way I cradled you tonight when I saw your face go emotionless as soon as the bullet pierced you.

It reminded me of that night, baby.

The night that you've erased.

Along with that night, you erased the memory of me.

I watched you erase every single aspect of yourself that you held in your persona and personality as a defense and coping mechanism; you built yourself up into this cold and calculated person when really you have the biggest heart I've ever come into contact with. You've always been head-strong, independent, and fierce, baby. There's never been any debate or confusion about the fact that you don't need anybody and that you can navigate yourself in this world on your own but I know that you don't want that, baby.

You don't want to be fixed or healed angel, I know that.

You just want to be understood and to be someone's equal.

You deserve to be worshipped and praised like the queen you are.

I hope that someone treats you like that one day, baby.

Even if it isn't me.

The thing that's hurting me the most my darling, is the fact that I have so much left to say to you.

You can't have left me with so much still to say; I haven't told you that I fall deeper and deeper into your fortress of seduction and danger every single time I look into those mesmerising eyes of yours.

I haven't told you that you're the only thing that makes my legs buckle and my knees weak as soon as you open your mouth and your lips leak honey.

My sweet baby, I'd have done anything to take that bullet instead of you.

I can't guarantee that you'll get the chance to read these confessions that are painfully pouring out of me as I sit next to you saying prayers to whatever spineless higher power has done this to you.

I'm not religious, I never have been, but you're making me convert just for the chance to say all of this to you in person.

I suppose the reality is that in the end, even the stars choose destruction over life.

I'm a thousand times sorry for allowing your light to be destroyed.

A thousand times sorry.