Drown [z.m.]

12.

Zayn is angry, and it is consuming him very slowly. Very soon, all he will do is give in to it and let it hold his mind and heart prisoner.

He is staggering into his house at precisely half past four in the morning, and every cell in his body is aching. He feels spots dance across his vision, and Zayn runs up the stairs to his bedroom.

He flicks on the light switch and his eyes devour the scene in front of him. But he is beyond rational thinking, so he surges forward and grabs a comic book from his nightstand.

It's that one in which Hulk defeats the villain, and Zayn feels a mirthless laugh bubbling in his throat. His hands fly across and he is ripping ripping ripping, until it's all just shreds on the floor.

There is no such thing as superheroes.

He's reaching for the other books then, and he's tearing and slashing and shredding all the bullshit about heroes and villains.

Because no matter how hard he tries, he cannot save the ones he loves.

His DVDs are targetted next. Zayn didn't even realize he was crying. But he is - great big ugly sobs - as he pulls all those movies he'd watched and rewatched out of their cases and breaks them into minuscule pieces which glint when they catch the light.

He pulls down the posters adorning his otherwise bare walls, and he tears them down, each and every one. Even the one with that picture of Iron Man, which he used to imitate all the time as a child.

His room is a mess.

He is a mess.

His life is a mess.

Zayn wants to rip himself apart next, and he knows he's crazy to think so, but he wants to. He is clawing at himself, and it hurts, so he drops to his knees amidst the remains of shattered dreams in his room and comes to a decision.

If Zayn Malik cannot protect the ones he loves, he will not protect himself.