Princess (Ziam)

Past

One more update tomorrow to complete the week of updates! And then I was thinking of doing some sort of competition if you guys were interested in that. I have a few ideas for it.

Warning: This chapter contains heavy material such as mentions of sexual assualt and self-harm. It all deals with Zayn's past and his father, so please read carefully because I love you all so much. And you can message me about anything if you just need someone to talk to or to just listen. 💕

Love you all my strong, lovely angels. ❤

Chapter 78:

I looked over at Zayn, trying to take in every expression that crossed his face, but he seemed to not want to show any whatsoever. He was staring blankly out of the window, and I knew he wasn't paying attention to the scenery that passed by at all.

We were in Colette's car on the way to see Zayn's father. It was completely silent apart from the sound of the radio playing music, and I could tell we were all a little on edge. I could see the way Colette's fingers nervously tapped the steering wheel as she drove and the way her hands would rub over the wheel in anticipation at every stoplight.

The silence was thick, so heavy that it felt like it was pressing down on my chest and making it harder to breathe. It was an invisible weight that both separated us and brought us even closer together at the same time. It was a common divide and a common tie.

"We're almost there. About five more minutes," Colette finally voiced. Eventhough her tone was rather quiet and gentle, it filled the car, cutting through the silence like a knife.

I saw the slight twitch of Zayn's hand in the front seat, and I wished that I was sitting next to him in order to provide some type of comfort. I wanted to reach out and grab a hold of his hand, but I wanted to give him this time to just take a moment to think everything out.

We drove on in silence, and it felt surreal to be so close to the very person who caused Zayn and his whole family so much pain. It was the exact opposite of being at Zayn's mum's grave. There it was peaceful and felt pure and good. The closer we got to the prison, the worse I felt. There was something bad, something sinister beyond those walls that demanded to be felt in the form of a person's deepest fears.

"We're here," Colette announced in a small voice, and I looked out of the window at the dull building as we drove by to find a parking spot.

It was large, grey, and surrounded by prison guards. There were bars on any windows in sight, and I just knew that the building would be cold and dreadful.

We finally parked, and we all climbed out of the car after a moment of hesitation. My lungs already felt heavy, so I could only imagine what Zayn was feeling.

I glanced over at him and noticed the way his whole face seemed to blanch as he looked up at the building. With each step he took closer to the building, his resolve seemed to crumble even more until I saw the obvious sorrow and panic in his expression. Finally, he froze.

We were right outside of the doors, and Colette pulled one opened, looking back at the both of us. She noticed the look on his face as well and moved to walk back over to us.

"Zayn, you can do this," I whispered as I took his hand in mine. I felt how badly it was shaking, tremors that seemed to cause my own hand to shake as well. He looked about ready to burst into tears, so I grabbed his face and made him look at me.

"Hey," I cooed, "you're going to be okay. You can do this, Zayn. You're stronger than he is."

I still saw the uncertainty in his eyes, the troublesome look he gave me, the obvious way he wanted to retreat into himself again. So I offered him a smile and said, "You can squeeze my hand if you want. Just promise not to squeeze too hard."