Leave {z.m.}

Twenty Eight

Addie's P.O.V.

"I just don't know where he would be. I haven't seen or had contact with him since Sunday. I don't exactly have time to go all the way to his house because I have studying to do." I breathed a sigh of stress and annoyance. 

If Zayn was going somewhere, he could've at least told me. It was already Wednesday and I hadn't heard a single word from him. Where would he have been and what was he doing there?

"Well, if it worries you that much, you could bring everything you need to study and go visit him. Your classes tomorrow are in the afternoon, right? You could stay the night there and then come back in the morning." 

I smiled at Niall and nodded, "I'm glad that I can count on you to have a clear head and give me useful advice. Thank you."

"I'll always be here for ya, Addie," Niall's turquoise eyes sparkled and I reluctantly looked away. 

He was too sweet and I didn't want to give him the wrong idea. I glanced back and he was staring down at his phone, reading a text message he'd gotten.

"Well, I guess I should go back home and get my stuff before heading onto Zayn's place. I'll see you on Friday?" 

"Definitely," Niall winked and I turned away, stepping into my car. 

Was he being flirty? Or maybe he was just being nice? I didn't know. Boys were too confusing.

                                         *                *                *

I took out the key he'd given me last week and unlocked his front door before hauling my bags inside. I didn't need multiple outfits or anything, but I had so much to study, thus the reasoning behind my two heavy bags. 

"Zayn?!" I called out loudly, waiting for his deep, British voice to answer me.

 I heard a shuffling sound coming from his room and smiled to myself. I skipped down the hallway to his room and spoke as I pushed the door open. 

"Zayn, where have you been? I mean I'm happy to see you but I'm also confused and angry because..." I noted that the TV was on, but Zayn wasn't there.

"Ugh!" I balled my hands into fists. 

I returned to the living room where my study materials were and glanced at them. I guess I'd take a walk for twenty minutes at an attempt to think before I began studying.

I breathed in and out slowly and calmly before clutching the front door's doorknob. I turned it absentmindedly and I didn't realize at first that nothing happened. I twisted it again, but something was preventing me from leaving. I turned it over and over until my wrist ached but the door wouldn't budge.

 I was trapped.

Zayn's P.O.V.

I opened my eyes and had to blink a few times before I could see correctly without everything being blurry. A person stood in front of me and I lurched forward, tackling whoever it was to the floor. 

"Zayn!" They cried with a muffled voice. 

I stood up suddenly and stared wide-eyed as the person on the floor became familiar.

It could not be...

"Zayn, my son," my father whispered. 

He did not appear surprised to see me; he had been the one to take me from my flat the other night. I vaguely remember what took place that night. He reached out and touched my forearm lightly, but I pulled away. 

"Do not touch me," I snapped, trying to hide my surprise at his soft gesture.

"I realise that I have an immense amount of explaining to do," he started. 

"Really? You realise that? For the first time in your pathetic waste of an existence, you realise that maybe you should actually explain yourself after all these years? Well, you can save it for someone who cares. I sure as hell do not."

"Zayn, please listen," he pleaded without much emotion. 

"No! You listen, you bastard! What the hell are you doing? Why am I here? Why am I tortured with your presence now when you could not even show up when my mother died? Do not even bother now. I do not care about you in the slightest. As far as I am concerned, you are not my father now, nor were you when I was younger."

"I understand that you must hate me, and you do not wish to hear me speak." 

"Wow, you guessed correctly," I remarked sarcastically. 

He sighed, "Something is happening though. Something that I needed you to know. It is not something you can just ignore."

"What is it?" I snarled, mentally creating a list of everything I could do to bring him affliction. 

"I feel...I feel that I am growing older. I am aging. We...our kind...perished...we do not..." He began, struggling to express his thoughts.

"I know. We do not age because of the fact that we are already dead. So what?"

"This is very abnormal but promising, depending upon your views as a perished. These occurrences...they start when there are forces that may disrupt what is in place already. The curse. There may be forces that can quite possibly reverse the curse."

I rolled my eyes. That was unbelievable. 

"Not even Gemma knows how to reverse it. In case you have somehow forgotten, she created it. She should know exactly how to take apart the elements of it, though she does not. There is no hope."

"There must be another sorceress alive...one who is closely related to Gemma. They could observe the nature of the curse and eventually figure out how to undo it," he stated as he rested in a chair in front of me.

"I am not entirely certain of any other sorceresses at the moment," I admitted. 

My father shrugged and remained silent. 

"I am leaving." 

He might've tried to stop me, but I saw no reason why he would. He clearly had nothing left to say. I still did not know why he decided that taking me was an intelligent idea, but I did not wish to stay there any longer to find out. I simply did not care enough.

"All right," we sighed at the same time and I grimaced.

 I never wanted to be anything like him. I had no idea where I was, but it did not matter. It was essential that I figured out soon enough, and then I would find my way back to Adelaide.

"Zayn?" 

He tapped on my shoulder and I wished to shove him to the floor, but I refrained from that. 

"What?" 

"There is one more thing. There has been talk among the other side. Among specters. They have mentioned...Xavier."

I held back a gasp and thought about why he might have been the focus of discussions on the other side. "It is probably nothing. Specters do not know everything."

Without turning around to face my father one last time, I fought to pretend that he had never been there in the first place. He was nothing. I had never spoken to him. I was never obligated to meet with him again. 

I would let go. 

So I left the temporary memories of him behind, releasing the convulsing monsters of a deranged past from their cages.

I was free.