Scars And a Cup of Coffee | Zarry [complete]

Prologue: Zayn

Scars And a Cup of Coffee

"Bradford, come on over!" Raul, Zayn's commanding officer, called him from the front of the army vehicle. Zayn grinned, folding the letter from Safaa and putting it in his front pocket. Zayn maneuvered through the excited bunch of soldiers. "What are you going to do once we get back home? Finally, these two years are over."

Zayn smiled, "I'm going to pick up my sisters up from school." For him, it seemed like a life time ago since he'd done it, and now it was the only thing wanted to do.

Raul patted him on the shoulder, a knowing look on his face. "Why do you still have your helmet on? It's over, we're through with this hell."

Zayn shrugged, and chuckled, "I'll believe that when I land in the airport." His officer laughed aloud.

Zayn stared out of the window, the same colors resonated through the desert like landscape. It looked so bland, but he knew the horrors that they could hold. He instantly thought of the rape rally his platoon raided only a week before, girls as young as his sisters to women clutching to their crying children protectively, were all over. Men with faces of horrible pasts were onlookers as they watched horridities take place.

Zayn shook his head, that was barely the tip of the iceberg to describe what he'd seen. He stared outside the window once more, watching as the tires of the truck in front of them kick up dirt. Then just like that an ear-splitting boom resonated and it toppled over. The ground shook, and fear captured Zayn's heart instantly.

He looked over to Raul, his officers face evident with the sadness that took over his features. "It's been a pleasure working by your side, Bradford-" Zayn didn't even have the time to nod before another explosive set off right underneath them.

***

Pulse, Zayn could feel his pulse. It thumped in his head, all he could hear is that constant pounding. He should feel something, but he didn't. Numb, everything was numb. He attempted to open his eyes, receiving murkiness. Blurry shapes moving frantically. Zayn tried to move his head, but that was something that registered, pain.

He was being lifted, he was growing farther and further away from that hot brown sand. He tried to say something but his throat felt dry, his lips chapped. Zayn heard sounds, hurried, panicked sounds, but what they were saying seemed impossible to grasp. His eyelids felt heavy, he felt detached. Darkness clouded his unclear vision, before it consumed all.

***

Zayn felt cold. It snapped at his motionless fingertips, and it spread. The cold it surged, straight to his core. The unconnected feeling registered again, but this time it felt distant, unobtainable. He opened his eyes, barely slivers. Bright lights, unnaturally white hurt his unused cornia's. His eyes shifted, a green line danced around a black monitor.

In fascination, his eyes watched the green line make pointed mountains, then sharp hills, and race up again to another peak. There were voices, just as fast paced as the ones from before.

Why do they speak so fast? Zayn asked himself, eyes still on that somehow enticing emerald line. He saw it stop making those interesting landscapes and become a flat plain. It made an irritating beeping sound. Zayn felt his consciousness slip away, as that beeping grew more distant.

A flat line, he realized. Hospital, he made the conclusion. The voices grew even more alert. What are they doing? A charge surged through his chest. It made him hurt, ache. It continued, more times than his mind had the power could count. He gasped the exact moment that emerald made a new hill, growing to a mountain once again.

It was his line, his life line, he figured out before darkness ebbed its way in.

***

Zayn shot out of his sweat soaked bed for the second time that night. Another nightmarish memory that haunted him. His left side ached, with the sudden effort. He glanced down, that part of his body still wrapped in bandages because Zayn was too shamed to look at it. His arm once littered with memory filled tattoos were now just scars of a sad incident that haunted him to this very moment.

Sometimes, when Zayn had nothing better to do than wallow, he would look back at that memory in the hospital, and wish that the green line would've stayed flat.

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A/N: So, other than this one, this storywill not have author's notes... :3 All it will have is the,

COMMENT, VOTE, or FAN!

And the,

-Mitchi