He woke up to see his mum standing in the middle of the room, tear stained cheeks and pajama pants. That's when he knew that she hadn't made it or maybe she did and things weren't looking good. His mum adored her and she would've flown to Paris with her purse filled with used tissues for her, he was so sure of it.
"Sunshine," she whispered as soon as she saw his caramel colored eyes. Her arms were wrapped around him in seconds and he couldn't help but cry. He knew what this meant, he knew what it all meant. He was alone now. He would have to go back to that stupid apartment by himself, poetry books scattered everywhere and bathtub still filled with soapy water.
"She's gone, isn't she?" he sighed, nose running and eyes filled with tears.
She replied with a poorly disguised sob and he collapsed into his poor mother. She held him and rocked him back and forth, but she couldn't fester up enough courage to tell him why she hopped on a plane at midnight to fly to some French hospital. She couldn't look him in the eyes long enough to let him know that Caroline wasn't going to be a part of his life anymore, and it wasn't for the reason that he thought.
"Don't cry, my love, please," she pleaded, trying to make it easier on herself. She knew she was being ridiculously selfish, but she couldn't think of a better thing. He had always been the one she didn't need to worry about. Other than his obvious smoking problem, he never gave his mum any reason to stay up late, hoping that he'd be okay. She knew he would be and if he wasn't okay, he could find a way to be on his own.
"Mumma, I love her too much," he stuttered.
He was shaking and his tattooed arms felt like noodles, draped sloppily around his mother. She put her hand on the back of his head, pushing him into the crook of her neck, his favorite place. She smelled like Chanel perfume, the fragrance that his dad bought her for Christmas because that was the only time they could afford it.
"Stop crying, sugar, I know."
He eventually stopped hysterically sobbing, but his cheeks were still wet and his eyes were still brimming with tears. She let go of him and helped him sit on the hospital bed because he looked so weak and his kneecaps were shaking like they were going to collapse.
She took his hands in hers, looking at the tattoos and bitten nails, smiling at what a wonderful son she had been blessed with.
"The doctors called me last night, said you'd been sedated for a couple days."
He hadn't known how long he'd been under, figured that it couldn't have been more than a few hours because he still felt exhausted. He still didn't know why they'd sedated him either. He thought they were giving him a comfortable place to sleep while they took care of his girl, that's all.
"Why did they sedate me?" he asked, voice muffled by his hands rubbing his cheeks and itchy eyes.
She looked down at her feet and then his feet and then hers again. Mothers weren't supposed to break their children's heart, they weren't supposed to deliver life-changing news like she had been sent to do.
"I don't know how to say this, baby, but they say you might have something wrong in your head," she said, combing his oily hair with her long fingernails.
He was confused, squinted eyes and aching head. His head had nothing to do with water flooding Caroline's lungs, nothing to do with pumping life back into her.
"What do you mean? I'm fine! We're here for her."
His mother sighed once again. She couldn't help it. Her chest felt like someone had lit a fire beneath the skin and the walls were getting closer and closer, ready to envelope her inside the room.
"Do you know what schizophrenia is?"
He'd heard of it before. Burt from primary school had it. The poor kid would fling himself off the slide instead of sliding down it and throw pencils at the air. Zayn had always silently understood Burt, like maybe he wasn't all that bad, a little wrong, but not bad.
"Yeah, but I don't see what that has anything to do with Caroline."
"They think you have it."
