Impeccable (Zayn Malik AU)

xii. Shadows of a Family

♡ Odette's POV ♡

After all the chaos was sorted through, all of the remaining royals and I were ushered along a passageway to something that resembled a small guesthouse, my sharp hearing picking up someone calling it the royal bunker to keep everyone safe in. So that's what Zayn meant when he said 'the bunker'.

Looking back, I'm not quite sure how I managed to walk to the bunker, but I had to have made it somehow, because I remember collapsing in a corner of the bunker, not saying a word.

I couldn't do anything. Delia's body as she fell kept creeping into my vision, haunting me. Blood was everywhere, making my own run cold. I noticed a small cut of my own from when I tripped had been created on my arm. I held my arm out to the side, away from my hunched figure. I didn't look at it, mentally severing it from my healthy body. I didn't want to see the scarlet droplets that fell from it, the sight reminding me too much of the blood that had stained Delia's golden dress as the assassin's bullet cut through her.

I was shaking tremendously too, my body unconsciously reacting to both the cold temperature inside the bunker and my paranoid mind. I must have been quite the sight, because royal servants would stare and seem to debate on whether or not to help me before leaving. I must look like a train wreck, I thought to myself before laughing. This, of course, didn't help the servants help me, quite the opposite.

My arm was still bleeding quite a lot when a familiar figure came over to me. I stared up at his face, my face pale and void of any emotion as he knelt down to me, taking my isolated arm in his tattooed hands.

"You got a pretty bad cut," Zayn whispered, almost like he was confirming what he saw was real. "Let's get a royal medic to stitch you up, yeah?"

I didn't say anything, only stared blankly at the man who had been giving me a cold shoulder and kissed me earlier. I hated the way he was speaking to me, like he was talking to a child, but deep inside I knew it was because he was trying his best to keep me together. I was like cracked glass, Zayn was a delicate glassmaker trying to keep his beautiful work of art from getting any more damaged.

Zayn kept his composure well, kneeling down to my eye level after he spoke. His face didn't falter at all as he reached his hand up to brush my cheek before wrapping around my waist, his other hand cradling my hurt arm carefully.

"You're okay, Odette. You're safe."

That was all it took for the dam that was my previously strong will to shatter, my eyes shedding a waterfall of tears that soaked Zayn's dark uniform. Strange sounds escaped me, strangled cries and whimpers as the terrible visions came back, the terrifying sight of the assassin aiming for me burned into the back of my brain, as well as his dead body.

Zayn didn't say anything as he let me cry everything out, only rubbing my back gently and whispering soothing words to my broken self. Eventually my cries turned into silent sniffling, and Zayn pulled away from our hug. He kissed my forehead before ushering a doctor over to me to patch up the cut that didn't look like much to me, but apparently was pretty serious since it was still bleeding.

Zayn managed to get a doctor to treat me, considering most of royal medics were concerned with the ones who were actually born into the royal family. The doctor informed Zayn I would need stitches, and my nausea came back again.

I hated needles, and I hated anything that involved blood and guts and hospitals. Zayn held my hand as the doctor began preparing a syringe full of some medicine that would numb my arm, keeping every second of my attention away from the needle slowly going through my skin through the use of words and kisses. It worked, I hardly felt the syringe needle, and before I knew it, the doctor began stitching me up. I found the whole process gross, but I stayed strong for Zayn. He had bigger problems to deal with than my measly cut.