Hero

Chapter 9

Even if he'd been paying attention to the road and not his radio, he would have been hard pressed to make the manoeuvre. As it was Zayn barely had time to scream before the air bags knocked him back and sideways. The car tumbled over and over into the central barrier before coming to an absolute stop. Silence; it scared Zayn more than the pain. Shouldn't he be moaning in pain or calling out? Zayn tried to move but he was pinned by the collapsing roof and the steering column. His neck was too fragile to move and he felt like his leg was on fire.

The car had flipped so many times that Zayn had become disorientated before he even sustained the concussion that had him drifting in and out of consciousness. He was fleetingly aware of the bloody taste in his mouth but he couldn't figure out what it was. At times his eyelids fluttered and he thought he must be at home in bed because it was so dark. But then why the cold and the sound of tearing and melting metal? Why the pain, gosh, why so much pain? Then came a blue flicker, the sound of sirens.

He hears another person whaling in agony. Zayn wants to go comfort the person and tell them that it's alright, but he can't manage to talk or even lift his head to see what was going on. He continued to hear cries and commotion of other people that were by-standing. He didn't know what to make of this. Was he dying? The thoughts are accelerating inside his head. He wants them to slow so he can breathe but they won't. Zayn's breaths come in gasps and he feels like he will black out. His heart is hammering inside his chest like it belonged to a rabbit running for its skin. The room spins and Zayn's head falls limp on the shards of glass that's on the ground. His blurry vision slowly fades, and he thinks it's all over now.

His eyes only slightly open up again, at the feeling of wind around him. He blinks a few times, to try and get the blurriness away, but all he can see is a green hoodie, black spandex jeans, and a bow and arrows on the guys back. People were staring, murmuring, and pulling out iPhones and Androids to take pictures and videos, but Zayn's entire focus did not extend beyond the broad shoulders of his saviour. Because that's who this guy was, yeah? A rescuer. A hero.

He watched as the guy extended his hand, and gasped with the little air he had left when wind came out of his palm. The wind put out the fire for both of the cars, and then the saviour was bending down and pulling Zayn's seat belt off. Zayn tries to peak at the guys face, but his vision was too blurry and the guy had a mask type thing on anyways, and the hood of the hoodie was pulled down far enough as well to hide any other hints of identity. So as he lets the hooded hero help him out of the wrecked car, Zayn leans all his weight on the guy and hissed in pain when his leg got sat on the ground. The guy quickly shifts him around in his arms, so Zayn woulnd't be in discomfort. Zayn can feel his body being carried away, and then onto a bed like thing. He lays down and takes on last look at the hero before his eyes closed and he blacked out.

••••

The hallway has as much personality as the rest of the hospital. The floor is slate grey and the walls dove. Above the ceiling is made from those polystyrene squares laid on a grid-like frame. The light is too bright for his eyes after the darkening of his shut eyelids, Zayn finds it abrasive, enough perhaps to bring on one of his migraines. There are commercial prints on the wall, tasteful in the dull kind of way. This place certainly isn't run by risk-takers and he guesses he should find comfort in that. Above every door he passes in the stretcher they placed him in is a large plastic sign, dark with white lettering- no fancy fonts, just bold and all-caps. It's so new and spotless Zayn feels like the whole building must have just gotten beamed here from some-place dirt is outlawed.

The nurses and doctors around him all talk rapidly to one another. They get Zayn into a big room with brights lights, and are sure to close the door behind them. Zayn's eyes feel puffy and he can taste the metallic flavour of blood in his mouth. He doesn't have the strength to cringe, so he doesn't. They move him to the bed, and everything is a blur after that. They debate of what to do next, and Zayn want's to scream to them to hurry up cause the pain is just too much to bare, but of course he can't. Then a female nurse with dark hair is just above him, looking like a giant blob of blurriness. She pumps his bag that is giving him liquids with one hand, and adjust his IV and monitors with the other. She then smooths Zayn's hair out a bit pushing it from out of his slightly blood covered face. "Hang in there sweetie," she says just as the stick him with a needle and everything goes black again.

••••a few hours later••••

The doctor had the posture of a soldier. Every action she took was precise and purposeful. She smiled in the cold and distant way professionals do. Zayn could never relax around such expressions. He needs a genuine face, preferably a smile, but if not he'd really rather they didn't fake it. Her eyes were devoid of any make-up and her hair was in a tight bun, not a strand out of place. She seemed to be talking to someone, and that's when Zayn realized other people were in the room with him. He turns his head to see his mother. The tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks and dripped from her chin. She was too sad to cry out or wail, she just stood there as still as a statue while the magnitude of the situation swept over her. Then he sees his dad, the sadness flowed through his veins and deadened his mind. His face was hard and his jaw was clenched tightly. It was a poison to his dad's spirit, dulling him killing off his other emotions until it was the only one that remained. Tears were slowly dripping down, and Zayn could tell that his dad was just trying to be strong for his mom.

"Mom..Dad.." Zayn says brokenly causing all the attention to go to him.

His parents rush to his side, as they both check on him looking frantic. Zayn just lets them, cause their soothing voices were all it took for him to remain calm. They ask him a few questions about what happened, and told him about his broken leg, and mild concussion. The raven haired lad sighs at that part really thankful that that's the only thing wrong with him. He then turns to the television that was on, and asked for someone to turn up the volume when he saw it was the news.

"Current honours student at  Firth Park Academy Zayn Malik suffered injuries including a broken leg and a concussion in a single-car accident today. Law enforcement sources tell us that he drove his Austin Martin down the road, and an approaching car drifted to his lane causing a head on collision. The other male involved died on impact, and no information has been let out by request of that family. However, now Zayn Malik is in stable condition at the local hospital, where he underwent surgery." The news reporter said. Despite the crispness of the suit and the perfect tailoring the man inside wasn't far out of just graduating uni. Against his smooth brown skin his black hair was styled in a neat but stylish cut. The gentleman clears his throat and continues, "Sources indicate that the masked saviour was indeed some sort of superhuman. Videos have spread across the internet and YouTube, of this masked hero, and all want to know is he here to stay. Police officials think of him as a menace and a vigilante, but the teens and younger population think he's the hero we've all been waiting for."

Zayn stares at the screen with a pleased and happy expression. Now he knows, that the hero is real. That the video and photo's in his phone aren't fake, and are actually genuinely real. The lad lays back, and sighs with a mixture of satisfaction and exhaustion. Closing his eyes, he couldn't help but to grin stupidly as thoughts of the hero danced throughout his mind.