savior ≫ z.m. [completed]

7

“Where have you been all this time?” I ask Jake in the taxi. He rolls his eyes and ignores me.

“Places,” is all he says.

“What have you been doing? Partying? Getting wasted?”

“Pretty much,” he says with a grin.

I never thought my brother, a straight-A student, on the honor roll for all 12 years of school, would end up like this. I grew up looking up to him as an idol, someone I wanted to be like when I was older.

“I thought you wanted to go to college! It was your dream, your goal,” I say desperately.

“People change,” he says simply. I scoff at his lame excuse.

The rest of the car ride is silent.

When we get dropped off at the hospital, I rush back to mom’s room and slowly open the door. She’s awake, and she lets out a sigh of relief when Jake and I enter the room.

“Hey,” she whispers hoarsely. I smile and Jake does the same, but there are no more words exchanged.

After about half an hour of awkward silence and some small talk, I decide to break the silence. I can’t take this; my family destroyed beyond the point of fixing and every minute I spend with them is just a painful reminder of what the Montgomery family has become.

“Um, mom, I have to go home and do some, uh, homework,” I say awkwardly. I don’t have any homework, I’d just rather be anywhere else but here. She nods and I leave without saying goodbye.

“Callie, wait,” Jake rushes out and catches up to me. I hail a taxi and he follows me, climbing into the taxi with me. “Can I stay home tonight?”

“Home?” I growl. “You left ‘home’ the minute you turned 18,”

“Because I was sick of mom, I mean, she has every right to be depressed because of dad, but it’s her job to take care of us. She should’ve been there for us, we could’ve went through the pain together because that’s what a family does.” I’m taken aback at Jake’s sudden maturity, in contrast to his behavior earlier.

“Yeah.” I say quietly. “Well, Danielle couldn’t take it anymore like you.”

“What?”

“Danielle’s gone,” I mumble. “She ran away.”

I knew that would affect him once I told him. They used to be close, back when I had a functional family. When he left, Danielle was absolutely crushed. He never answered any of her calls, emails, or anything, and after a while, she gave up. It took her a while to get over it; and now, when she’s gone, he’s back.

Jake stays silent for a couple of minutes before speaking up.

“Have you heard from her?” his voice is quiet and sad, and he is undoubtedly heartbroken.

“No,” I bite my lip. “I’m sorry,”

He shakes his head. “It’s not your fault. It’s none of our faults.”

~

The next day at school, Zayn and I continue school without mentioning the bar. I can tell by the expectantly way he looks at me he wants to, but I ignore it.

When last period rolls around, Zayn finally gathers the courage to ask me.

“So, um, what were you doing at Tenth Hour?” he asks hesitantly.

“Let’s talk about this somewhere else,” I say, slamming my locker shut.

When we get to the library, we head to the table we sat at yesterday. There’s a couple making out in the corner, but as soon as we sit down, they scramble away in embarrassment.

“Well?” Zayn asks. Why does he want to know so bad?

“That guy I kicked, he’s my brother,”

“The one who left as soon as he turned 18?”

“Yeah,” I bite my lip nervously. “He’s becoming an alcohol addict, kinda like...”

“Your mom?” he finishes for me. I nod.

We sit in silence for a couple of minutes, before I decide to ask him what has been on my mind.

“You know, I didn’t expect to see you in there,” I say, staring at him. He shrugs, as if it was normal.

“Back in Bradford, bars and fight clubs were where I went to relieve my anger at people who judged me and my family. The good thing was, in those places, nobody judged you. It’s kinda where I felt I belonged. It’s where I learned to toughen up,” Zayn says quietly. “It’s where I learned to fight.” he says simply.

Fight? There was one fight going on at the bar that night, and I remember seeing someone familiar...

“You fought at the bar last night,” I say. He cocks his head to the side.

“How did you know?”

“And how did you get out, unharmed, no cuts or bruises or broken bones?” I ignore his curious question. How did he get into a scuffle like that and come out perfectly normal?

“As I said, I toughened up in Bradford in those bars,” he sighs. “They’re worse than Tenth Hour, and Tenth Hour’s bad enough,” Zayn says seriously. I see something in his eyes flicker, like a burning fire, but he blinks quickly and his eyes return to his normal beautiful shade of hazel.

We stare at each other until the bell rings, and exactly like yesterday, I grab my stuff, say bye to Zayn, and rush out of the library. I feel his eyes follow me out.

What does he mean when he’s been to bars worse than Tenth Hour? How bad can it get? And how does he just brush it off like it’s no big deal?

I have a feeling there’s a lot more to Zayn than meets the eye, and he’s not telling me.

But what is he hiding?