Behind Your Eyes [Zayn Malik]

Twelve.

(Zayn's flashback this time oOooOOo)

Alex Ranger. I responded to her name faster than my own. It was funny, seeing that I hated her guts.

But dammit, that girl was on my mind 24/7. Not in a romantic way - not at all. More along the lines of what stuff I could do to her next.

Or maybe when.

I wasn't cold hearted. Or maybe I was. But it wasn't out of choice. I was made cold hearted. 

Nobody knew what happened at home. Nobody cared. 

You know, I tried to stop it. I tried to stop what happened at home. See, nobody questioned me when I came into school with a black eye. My so called friends thought it was from a fight. I knew it was from my dad.

And when I came to school with my arm in a sling; I was "cool" because I'd "beaten up an older guy who was harrassing me". But inside, I was ashamed, because I'd let my dad do that to me.

I remember one evening, when I was about eight, my father was extremely late home from work. He was a firefighter, best one in his station. His daily shifts finished at six. He came home at eleven.

My father was my hero. He saved lives. He ran into burning buildings to rescue people. I wanted to be like my daddy. My mother and father were very much in love at this point. Me, my elder sister Doniya and my recently-born baby sister, Waliyha, were my parent's pride and joy. 

I had stayed up late that night to help my mum bake cakes for our school's cake sale the next day. Doniya had gone to bed early as she felt sick, so my mum and I were messing around in the kitchen, making cakes. We'd just put the cakes in the oven when the front door slammed shut, making the whole house shake. My father's heavy footsteps thundered down the hall as he staggered towards us.

"Daddy!" I cried, pleased to see my father. I ran towards him to hug him but he pushed me away.

"Yaser, what time do you call this?" my mother demanded.

"Shut up, Trisha." he slurred.

"Are you drunk?" she asked angrily.

He swayed from side to side, clinging onto the door frame to stop himself falling over. "Of course not."

"Unbelieveable." she muttered. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I said SHUT IT!" he yelled, grabbing a plate from the sink and throwing it at the wall.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" she screeched, "Zayn, get out, go to your room!"

I stared between them both, my eyes flickering between my mother and father. I was still in shock at my father's actions. 

"Yeah, Zayn," my father taunted, "go to your room!"

I gulped, looking back to my mother for help. She stared straight at my father, angrily.

"Yaser, I don't know what's got into you, but you'd better stop!"

"DON'T tell ME what to do!" he yelled again, this time grabbing the plastic mixing bowl we'd used to make the cake mixture and hurling it across the room. Instead of it hitting the wall, it hit me right in the head, knocking me over.

"YASER!" my mother screamed, "GET OUT!" 

My father turned on his heel, whilst my mother leant down to help me up. "Zayn, are you okay?"