No Bad Guys Allowed

five

Sara's POV
He loved me? Did he seriously just say that? I had to hold back a smile, and I didn't even know why. Why was I trying to smile? Malik was a killer, I was a prison guard. Two different people.
Unfortunately, I had to walk past his block of cells on my shift that night.
"Hey," he said to me softly.
"Hi," I answered.
"Sorry about earlier," he told me quietly, scratching his head awkwardly.
Wow, as if it wasn't awkward enough.
"It was nothing."
"No, it was something. Even if you don't like me back," Zayn growled, lightly kicking the cell door.
"Me and you, Zayn, are two different types of people. You: a killer. Me: a prison guard," I told him.
"You called me Zayn," he smiled.
"Goodbye," I sighed, walking away.
"Bye," he called after me.
I walked past Carlin and JJ's cells next. Carlin appeared immediately.
"You and Malik had a nice chat?" Carlin taunted, grinning.
"None of your business, Carlin," I muttered. I could usually tolerate Carlin, but he seemed to be extra annoying lately.
"Not up for a talk, babes?" He chuckled, reaching out for me through the bars, slapping my arm playfully.
"Leave her alone, Carlin," JJ snarled.
"It's just fun, JJ," Carlin laughed, slapping me again.
I was fed up of him touching me, so I had to use my taser on him. He fell to the floor, clutching his arm.
"Bitch!" He yelled.
"I thought you knew better than to touch a guard," I said blankly.
JJ watched him with amusement. It was quite funny, to watch Carlin, who was usually a hard man, turn into a little pussy just because I zapped him with a taser for not even a second.
"You find this funny?" Carlin sneered at me.
"Yeah, I do," I grinned, walking away. What? There was no amusement usually, I needed a laugh.
I saw Zayn leaning against his cell door with a permanent marker in his hand, doodling on on the wall. I remember him requesting for a marker to a guard called Tom. Tom bought him a marker with some paper, but Zayn hadn't touched the paper. He was drawing on the wall to pass the time.
I decided to walk over there to see what he was drawing.
"What are you drawing?" I asked him.
"Dunno," he shrugged.
I looked inside the cell, to see his drawing. It was a lighting bolt coming out of a handgun, hitting a really big guy. There was also the letters 'ZM' written in massive bubble graffiti writing.
"Is that supposed to be that taser on Carlin?" I giggled.
"Yeah, I think so," he smiled.
"You think so?" I frowned.
"I don't control what I draw. I listen to the voices."
"The... the voices?"
"The voices in my mind."
"What do they say, Zayn?"
"They tell me what to do. What crimes to commit. They control my thoughts."
"Do they sound like you? In your head?"
"No. Sometimes they sound like people I've never met before. Sometimes they sound like people I know."
"Who have you told about this?"
"Only you."
"Why only me?"
"They told me to not tell anyone, but they told me to tell you."
Zayn really did have something wrong with him. He never had help, the poor thing.
"Zayn, I'm gonna get the voices out of your head, okay?" I told him softly.
Zayn's head snapped around. He looked upset.
"No, they told me not to trust you..." he stammered. He really relied on the voices.
"I'm getting you help, Zayn," I said.
"NO! WHY? WHY DO THEY NOT TRUST YOU?" Zayn screamed, his eyes filled with tears.
"Zayn?"
"I love you," he said shakily. "I love you."
"Zay-"
"No, let me speak, please. I've only known you a few weeks, but I know I love you. It's been hard, I've ever loved anyone except my mum before. I love you, Sara. I love you," his voice was unsteady, like he couldn't come to terms with his own thoughts. He was broken.
"I need to get you help, Zayn. Let me get you help? For me?"
"Okay," he agreed.
I rushed away to the therapists office.
"I need you in Block F," I told him.
"What's happened?" He asked.
"Zayn Malik. He was talking to me when he started talking about voices inside his head. He had a breakdown, he's really hurt. Help him, please?"
"Of course," the therapist, Mr Michaels, said, following me to Block F.
"Zayn?" I said softly, reaching out to his arm through the bars. He was sat down now.
"I love you," he whispered.
"Zayn? Mr Michaels is going to help you, okay?"
"I love you."
"Mr Malik?" Mr Michaels called out to Zayn.
"The voices tell me you're going to kill me," Zayn growled.
"I'm not going to kill you," Mr Michaels assured him.
"I need to hear it from Sara."
"Mr Michaels is not going to kill you, Zayn," I told him.
Zayn nodded. Mr Michaels nodded back. I unlocked the door to let Mr Michaels in, when Zayn attacked him. He had a tight grip on Mr Michaels' neck, and he wasn't letting go.
"ZAYN!" I screamed, before using my taser on him.
Zayn loosened his grip and fell to the floor limply. Mr Michaels stood up, breathing heavily.
Armed prison guards came and took an unconscious Zayn to the isolation room. I was scared for Zayn, the isolation room wasn't pleasant. Most prisoners ended their lives there.
"Keep him safe, Tom," I told Tom as he walked towards the isolation room. "Keep an eye on him."
"You really care about him, don't you?" Tom asked me.
"It's weird. I care about Carlin and JJ, but Zayn is different."
"Don't worry, no prisoner has ever killed themselves when it's been my shift."
I nodded, walking away to my last shift in Block D.