RULE 7: RAGE

ZAYN'S POV

I shuffled my feet, eyes locked on the faint light spilling from the warped window. There I stood, in front of my apartment, knuckles tapping a hesitant rhythm against the door-each knock jolting through me, matching the erratic thump of my pulse.

A chill skittered down my spine, my skin prickling with the unfamiliar stillness around me. Who could be inside at this hour? I stared at the peeling paint, the once-vibrant color now faded, like the world had drained the life from it. My breath hitched, the landlord's warning echoing in my mind.

I fumbled with the keys, fingers slipping on the cold metal, the lock stubborn and unforgiving. The door rattled softly, the sound piercing the silence. I glanced up-the night was still. Thunder rumbled in the distance, almost as if it was daring me to push forward, shattering the silence.

My grip tightened on the bag's strap, the fabric biting into my palms as my eyes fixed on the door. I told myself I'd misheard the landlord, that there was some mistake-but the sour taste in my throat and the hammering in my chest told me otherwise.

I couldn't ignore the truth. The door groaned open, its hinges screaming in protest, like a dying creature's last breath. A figure emerged-my landlord, hunched and framed by shadows. The floor creaked under his weight, as though the house itself was trying to hold him back.

A shiver crawled down my spine. This wasn't just about unpaid rent. It was something darker, something I couldn't shake. "You shouldn't be here, boy," he croaked, his voice as brittle as the dry leaves underfoot. "Rent's due. No pay, no stay." "I-I just need more time," I stammered, words stumbling out.

"The money's coming in, I swear. Just-" He scoffed, narrowing his eyes. "Promises don't pay the bills." Behind me, whispers from the neighborhood grew louder. Curtains fluttered, shadows watching with sharpened gazes, like knives at my back. My forehead wrinkled, fingers tight around the strap of my bag.

The words caught in my throat, a jagged breath escaping as I tried again. "Please... just until the end of the week. I'll pay, I swear." His frown deepened, lips curling into a sneer. "The week? You've had months. Find a new place, boy. No freeloaders here." I took a step forward, heart thumping harder, my breath hitching in my throat. His gaze flicked to the street, dismissing me like I was nothing.

Thunder roared, splitting the air, a jagged crack of sound that tore through my thoughts, breaking my focus. My mouth went dry. "I'm begging you. Just one more night-" His eyes didn't soften, his face set in stone. He turned slightly, blocking my view of the street.

A sharp breath through his nose. I couldn't tell if it was the rain or the deafening rush of my pulse in my ears, but the fog in my mind thickened. I wanted to lunge, to shout, but my legs refused to move. My lips trembled. His hand shot up, stopping me cold. "Leave now, before I call the cops.

"Please, just for-" My voice barely rose above the thunder's growl. The door slammed shut with a resounding crack, shaking my bones. The musty scent of old wood and dampness filled my nostrils as I raised my hand to knock again. Before I could, the sharp crash of breaking glass rang out from inside. I flinched, unsure if it was the sting of rejection or the cold creeping deeper, sinking into my chest.

The rain poured harder, each drop a harsh sting against my skin as I turned away, the pounding of my shoes against the wet pavement echoing through the silence. The night was too loud, too hollow. The whispers behind me deepened, crawling into my ears. "Always behind, that one... Poor boy, never keeps a job..." I pressed on, feet dragging through the muck, but the words scraped against my mind, gnawing at my heels.

I couldn't stop. The cold seeped in, my clothes sticking to me like a second layer of ice. Norton's place wasn't far-just a few streets over. I stumbled toward his doorstep, the harsh porch light cutting through the darkness, stabbing at my eyes.

My hands buried themselves into the folds of my hoodie. Music blared from inside, the vibrations reaching through the thin walls. I rang the doorbell twice, each second stretching longer than the last. I slumped against the wall, soaked to the bone, my teeth chattering. My fingers dug into the strap of my bag, as the sting of cold spread up my spine. The door creaked open, and Norton appeared, barefoot, shorts hanging low, a sheen of sweat glistening on his chest, something white lingering at the corner of his mouth.

"Zayn!" he called, too cheerful. "What's up, man?" I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "Norton, I've been evicted. I just need a place to crash. The weather-it's bad out here. I'll leave first thing in the morning, I swear."

He hesitated, glancing at the door behind him. "Man... I don't know," he muttered, lowering his voice. "The place is packed. My grandma's here, everyone's inside. No room."

I stepped closer, hands twisting together. "Just one night, Norton. I'll leave before sunrise. I swear-" The door scraped open just enough for a woman to step into view, trailing her fingers down his shoulder. She looked at me-distant, half-lidded eyes.

"What's going on here?" she murmured, voice thick with sleep, hair a tangled mess. "Don't worry, babe," Norton said, grinning too quick. "I'll be right back." He watched her walk away, lips curling into a smug grin. The door slammed shut, final, like the world crashing down around me.