(chapter six)
Z A Y N
The minute I open my front door, I see a text from Harry asking if I was up for shots. I shrug and think about it, setting my suitcase on the couch along with all the papers and beer bottles. I should clean my house. Sighing, I get the bottles and throw them on the bin, along with some old take-out boxes. It was still raining heavily, and I’m honestly not a big fan of rain.
My phone chimes again.
From: Harry
How’s it sound? Happy hour at Senor Frog’s?
I can’t help but smirk. When he wants to drink, he’s gonna drink.
To: Harry
Dunno, I actually have work to do, pony boy.
Honestly, I hope this is enough to get him to stop. I don’t know why, I just don’t feel like going out and fucking some random girl. Or Niall, for all that matters. I keep thinking on all of the records I’ll be reporting on Monday, mainly my newest patient’s, Annie. She worries me; I haven’t made any progress with her.
At least she’s eating now. I wonder what it must be like for her; being in there all day without anyone to talk to. It’s not like she wants to either. I’ve offered various times to have our therapy session outside, with the trees and fresh air and all of that nonsense and her answer is always no. This is the most she’s talked, according to other nurses, which leaves me with the question in hand: Is the story she told me the real reason as to why she’s there?
She could simply have selective amnesia. It happens when you pass through a traumatic experience.
I’m disrupted of my thoughts as I hear my phone ringing. He just won’t give up, will he?
“Harry, I seriously have work to do—”
“Hey, man, it’s Louis,” he interrupts. I roll my eyes. “Um… Harry’s drunk right now. I’m sorry. He called.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine, man. As long as I’m not his ex, right?”
“Very funny,” Louis replies, loud music blaring from the end of the line. “So Niall told me you’re into the crazy chick from the hospital and that you can’t stop talking about her. Can you please confirm?”
“Why would Niall tell you I’m into Annie?” I furrow my eyebrows, grabbing my bag and looking through the papers to start the evaluation.
“So the crazy chick has a name,” He chuckles. “Annie. Is she sweet and innocent or is she a total nympho—”
“I wouldn’t finish that if I were you, mate,” I warn. I’ve dealt with a few sex-crazed patients and this really wasn’t the moment to bring it up. “And she’s… I dunno. Kinda shy….”
“‘Shy’?” Louis echoes, laughing. “What else, is she a Scorpio? Likes long walks on the beach and reading?”
I roll my eyes, looking at the few notes I’ve managed to take. “Very funny. She doesn’t talk, Lou. For all I know she could have been a drug addict.”
“Oh, nah man,” he says, maybe to some other guy. “I doubt it. Chicks cannot hold dey smoke.”
“I cannot believe you’re ‘Breakfast Club’ drunk,” I chuckle, looking at some of the doodles the schizophrenic patients draw. It was sad, really. “Shame on you, officer Tomlinson.”
He laughs again and tells me to get my shit straight with Annie (which was rude, considering there’s no shit to ‘straighten’), and hangs up. I turn my phone off and get to work, ignoring the grumbling in my stomach.
A good three hours pass and I decide that this is enough work for today. I put all the papers in order and place them on their folders before setting those in the case and heading to my room. Lazily, I take my sweater and shirt off, followed by my shoes and throw myself on the bed. I stare at the window, watching the raindrops distorting the light from outside until I fall asleep.
~
I jolt awake, looking around. No nightmares or anything, just, no more sleeping for Zayn. It hasn’t happened in a few weeks. Sighing, I look at the clock on my bedside table and remember the power’s constantly going, which explains why it’s 7:45. I shake my head and yawn, standing up and looking around for my phone.
Living room. Right.
I squint my eyes, trying to adjust to the bright light coming from my screen as it takes its time turning on. When it finally does so, the first thing I see is various notifications, missed calls from the hospital. The hospital? It’s two in the morning…. Maybe I should call, see what’s happening.
“London Psychiatric Center, how may I help?” A male nurse answers, sounding tired.
“Hi, it’s Dr. Malik,” I say, trying to stifle a yawn. “I have some missed calls and I wanted to know if everything was okay there?”
“Um…” I hear some shuffling. “You said ‘Malik’? You’re needed in… Miller, Annabeth’s room?”
“I’m on my way,” I say immediately, standing up and hanging the phone. What could have happened to Annie? I don’t even want to know. Sighing, I get dressed and get my umbrella, going to my car.
~
“Oh, thank God you’re here,” the nurse says, wrapping her hair in a careless, messy bun. “She hasn’t stopped yelling all night. We don’t know if it’s the thunderstorm or if it’s something else….”
I furrow my eyebrows and nod, knocking on Annie’s door. When she doesn’t answer, I carefully turn the knob and look around. The whole room is dark. “Annie?”
“Go away,” she sniffles. I look at the bed and see her there, under the covers. “D-Don’t hurt me…”
“Hurt you?” I ask softly, going to the bed. “Annie, it’s me, Zayn.”
“Zayn?” She lifts her head from the covers and looks at me, tears running down her cheeks. “I—I’m so scared I can’t breathe what’s happen—”
“Annie, look at me,” I say. “Can you please look at me?”
She snaps her head towards me. “He’s coming, Zayn.”
“‘He’? Who’s he?”
“I—My dad…”
I stay quiet a few seconds, taking in the words. Thunder rolls in and she squeals, scared. “Annie; what is he going to do?”
“Hurt…” she cuddles close to me. “Hit me…”
I frown. She’s worse than I thought. “He won’t, I promise. He won’t hurt you as long as I’m here.”
