After talking with Louis a little longer on the phone he explained to me that my month with Zayn Malik would be the upcoming month since the guy had a trip to make across the world or something like that. I had dreamed about seeing the world, but I knew that was impossible. But hell I was going to at least get out of this city. After all, that was the end goal.

When I was younger and still lived with my parents we lived on the outskirts of the small town. Everything was pretty run down and my school was s.hit. There would be days where I wouldn't get up to go to school and it would take hours for my parents to notice that I was still home.

They just didn't care.

But then all of a sudden, one day, my parents started caring and yelled at me to get up. I thought things were looking up, but I guess they were starting to care because the school had called and they would get in trouble. So again, they never really cared about me. They only cared about themselves and their alcohol.

I don't know where things went south because I remember being very young and having the best time. And then we moved into a smaller house and had to put our dog up for adoption and sometimes I was told not to answer the phone because the bad people would call again and ask for money. I know now that they were debt collectors.

My parents had good jobs which is why I was so confused when we were hurting for money. More and more my mother would stay home and use up what little money we had on box wine that she would drink by herself in a night. Some nights I would go hungry.

And the one time that I tried to make myself some food, when I was twelve years old, my father caught me rummaging through the cabinets. I had found a box of macaroni and he just slapped it out of my hands. It fell all over the floor and when I went to go pick it up and salvage something to eat, his boot connected with my side.

I don't think I could breathe normally for at least a week after that.

But it didn't stop there. The beatings got worse and I had a hard time hiding the bruises from my teachers at school. And my mother? She didn't do a damn thing. I remember calling out to her from my room because it hurt to much to move. My dad had just come home angry from his job and took it out on me. She wouldn't even come to me. All she did was just sit by her box of wine and drink until she couldn't see straight.

I find it funny now- it's kind of messed up that I do- that the bruises I'm now trying to hide are from own afflictions. Yeah, I do this to myself. But what else can a sixteen year old runaway do to make money? I take precautions. I don't think I'm in any danger.

So here I was, in this god forsaken city, walking down the street on my way back to my place. I was a little uneasy about having all of that money in my pocket, both from Zayn and from Liam. I hurried my pace and was rounding the corner to my street in no time. I lived in a sort of run down apartment complex. Okay, it was really run down, but it was what I could afford and still keep my head above the water.

It was really dark out by the time I got to my door on the second floor of the complex. The stairway was outside and each place had a small balcony. I spent a lot of hot summer nights just sitting outside and looking up at the night sky. Sometimes I thought about how things could have been different, but when I sat down and counted the money in my pocket. I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Seventeen hundred." I sighed, looking over the money in my hand. I brought the money to my face and smelled it. I don't know why. It was just something people did when they had that much cash on hand.

"Looks like a good weekend there, Niall."

I jumped, quickly stashing my money inside of my coat pocket. I looked up to my landlord who was leaning against the wall beside my front door. "Hey Harry." I nodded and he pushed away from the wall. I knew I was safe around him, so I pulled my money out of my pocket and counted up this months rent and utilities. "Here. And the interest is in there from last month." I counted my money again and I had a thousand left. I could actually start saving some money.

"Are you staying safe?" Harry asked, pushing his hair from his face. I swore he could be a model, but instead he ran this apartment complex with his wife. They were nice people and always checked up on me. The place was run down, but whenever I had a problem with the water heater or the windows not closing all the way Harry would always fix it. He would sometimes even invite me over to dinner with his wife. They were good people. And they were expecting their first kid. I had no doubt that Harry would be a great father. I mean, he was a father figure to me, even though he was only in his late twenties, only about ten years older than me.

"Yeah. I'm safe." I muttered, putting my money away. "Just tired is all." I don't think I had a good nights rest in a couple days. But the next day was my day off, so I was going to sleep in a little.

I heard Harry sigh and squat next to the chair I was sitting in. "You know they have programs for kids like you. They can help." He put his hand on my arm and looked me in the eye. "I can get the number for you." He really was trying. He knew I was just a teenager and that I had run away from home. I paid him that interest just to stay quiet about it.

"No thanks." I shrugged, gripping my money in my pocket. "I should probably head inside." I stood up and Harry did as well, sighing loud enough for me to hear the annoyance in his breath. "I'll see you soon, okay?" I turned to him and he nodded.

"Why don't you come over sometime this week for dinner?" He asked. "Marie makes a mean chicken pot pie." He smiled when he talked about his wife. "She keeps asking about you. She cares about you, you know? We both do." I nodded again, taking my keys out and unlocking my front door.

"I'll see you around, Harry." I gave him a short goodbye wave and closed the door behind me. I locked it and let out a heavy sigh. My apartment was a mess after a busy week and I thought about cleaning it that night, but my body was craving sleep. And that's just what I gave it.

I fell to my bed with my clothes on. It was different for a chance. Usually I would be in bed completely naked. Wearing all my clothes gave me this sick sense security. I slowly kicked off my shoots and shrugged out of my jacket. I kept my shirt on, but removed my pants with effort and decided to sleep in my briefs. When I pulled my blankets up to my chin I thought about that Zayn Malik guy.

He was different. I don't know what it was about him that kept me thinking, but he was something else. To just leave me a thousand dollars after a night of not having sex, I was dumb founded. And he called Louis back for more! And I was going to spend a whole month with his man for thirty thousand dollars. Who just has that kind of money to spend on a prostitute? I went to sleep with Zayn Malik constantly on my mind.

-

I slept so soundly that night that I never wanted to get out of bed the next day. I rolled around in my sheets and blankets and stretched. I felt so refreshed. That sure was saying something after being a sex toy all weekend without stop.

I had turned my phone off that night to get some peace and quiet and when I turned it back on I had a few missed calls. Two from Louis and one from an unknown number. I also had some voicemails, so I checked those first. The first was Louis saying good morning and to call him and then the second voicemail sounded like a butt dial.

I tossed my phone to the side, deciding to call Louis later in the day. It was a little past ten in the morning and that was sleeping in for me. I stretched my arms above my head and twisted my back a little. I felt some joint pop and my body relax. I had the whole day to myself I knew exactly what I was going to do. I was going to clean this mess of an apartment and then go buy groceries with the money that I had.

I took a quick shower and then lathered my body with lotion. I had to keep my skin nice and soft for my clients. They liked that. I had been lucky enough to not get too many zits in my teenage years, which was also good for business since I didn't want anyone knowing that I was actually sixteen instead of eighteen.

When I stepped out of the bathroom with fresh clothes on my phone started to ring. It was only ten thirty by that point. Louis was being persistent. Though, when I checked the screen on my phone, it wasn't Louis who was calling. It was the same number that had butt dialed me. I let it go through to voicemail and yet again, a message was left.

I grabbed my phone and pressed it to my ear. The voicemail started off like the phone was in someone's pocket, but then it changed and this deep velvety voice started to speak.

"I got your number from Louis. I just wanted to talk to you, ask you something. Oh, this is Z-Zayn by the way. Uh, sorry for calling. Sorry."

The line with dead after that and I was more than confused as to why Zayn Malik, wealthy business man, took his time to call me. And why would he get my number from Louis? Most of my clients would rather contact me through Louis to avoid the connection. What if a wife, or a coworker found out that they were calling a prostitute? Zayn Malik was taking a risk by calling me.

A/N: Hey guys! I made some changes in the story and made Lawrence into Liam since I have all the other boys. Sorry for the confusion. Also! School is starting up which means I will get on a schedule and it's looking like I will updates on Thursdays! Stay tuned for the next part of this story and please take a look at the prologue for my other Ziall fic titled What Are We Waiting For!

Much Love

Jachxx