Trapped Angel [one direction] (ON HOLD)

CHAPTER 02

Zayn

I still can't wrap my mind around all the madness that happened last night.

The gun fire, the fist fight with that man, the bleeding woman and her kiss. Every single memory I have, albeit it is quite clear, it is surrounded by this strange aura that almost makes me believe it was all nothing but an awfully realistic dream.

And the only reason why I don't fully convince myself of that, is the bruising in my hands and the tingling sensation her lips left on my skin.

Not to mention that I am sitting in a hospital waiting room and I have been spending most of the night talking with the police about everything that went down in that bloody apartment.

I should leave. They told me that I could, and I bet that my mother must be going insane trying to get in touch with me at a phone that got drained of its battery hours ago.

But I just stay here. Sitting and waiting. Constantly looking towards the door behind which I know he is now recovering from his injury.

Harry. That's the name of the boy I still can't believe I swore to his dying mother I would protect.

Why would I do that? I'm a nineteen year old university student that delivers pizza to help his mother support his three younger sisters, and a house the size of a bloody tissue. How on earth could I protect a twelve year old kid with a dead mother and a murderous father?

"It's just a promise you made to a poor agonizing lady, Zayn. Is not like anyone's expecting you see it through." I tell myself in a low volume so the people around me won't think I've lost it.

"Actually... I do expect that."

I jump a little at the voice, and I look around me to find the source. But every single person sitting in this waiting room doesn't even seem to be paying any attention to me whatsoever, let alone talking to me.

"I definitely need to sleep." I whisper, rubbing my hands against my tired eyes and convincing myself that the voice was a fidget of my sleep deprived brain.

"Excuse me, Mr. Malik?"

I quickly lift up my gaze, standing up in a jolt when I realize the same doctor that has been going in and out of Harry's room is standing next to me.

"Yes. That's me." I confirm, stretching my hand to shake his.

He nods with a polite smile on his face as he beckons me to sit back down, and I don't know why exactly but I suddenly become a little bit wary of him.

"My name is Dr. Patterson." He introduces himself once we are both seated side by side. "I'm Harry's physician. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about what happened to him?"

I stare at him with a frown of confusion and distrust. Why does he have to ask me anything when I already told the police everything I remember? Why can't he just talk to them instead? Definitely, I don't like this man.

"I don't..." I begin to say, shifting uncomfortably on the chair. "But I really don't have anything else to say other that what I told the officers. I don't think I can help you any further. Besides, I really need to go home. Can you just tell me if the kid is going to be alright so I can be on my way?"

I didn't intended to sound so rude yet I don't make a single effort to rephrase anything that I've just said.

"Well, that is actually why I'm asking you this." He responds, apparently oblivious to my crudeness or simply ignoring it on purpose. "Medically, everything is normal... at least considering he has sustained a gunshot wound. But he seems to have lost his voice and I am sure that is a psychological response to what he went through last night."