Special (Ziall Mpreg)

Chapter 33

A silent gasp left my mouth as I woke up with a jolt. I was sweating and freezing at the same time and the blanket that was tangled around my legs made me feel like I was trapped. I kicked it away from me and ran a hand over my face, still trying to calm down from the nightmare I've had. There was a hard knot in my stomach that made it hard to breathe and for a few minutes I just laid there and tried to control my breathing, clenching and unclenching my fists in an attempt to ground myself.

It's been 4 weeks since the events in Canada. The days were okay, good sometimes with all the people around me and the full time job of being a parent to twin babies. There was just never a quiet minute and even when the girls were asleep we still had so much to do, so I just didn't have time for unwanted thoughts and panicking.

The nights were tough though, Zayn and I both suffered from nightmares and on top of that we also had to tend to our girls about 4 times every night. But while Zayn was fine after his nightmares when he saw me in bed next to him, I always felt anxiety rushing through me and had to wake him up to reassure me that I was fine.

Now I tried taking deep breaths, not wanting to wake my husband who had to get up twice already that night to feed the girls and I also thought that I had to learn how to deal with my fear myself. I pulled my legs to my chest as I sat up and wrapped my arms around them, trying to swallow the big lump in my throat. Zayns turned to his other side next to me, then mumbled something in his sleep. A light smile appeared on my lips as I watched him. He was really the best thing that had ever happened to me and with this entire situation he helped so much, everyday, he held me when I was crying and he knew how to ground me when I was having a panic attack. But I couldn't help but to feel guilty, I was causing him so much worry and he felt the constant need to protect me. He wouldn't be so worried and concerned all the time if I would've been more careful, if I would've been aware of the danger around me. It was my fault that I was taken and now it was my fault that everybody around me had to always look out for me.

I let out a deep breath and closed my eyes, hoping to calm down my nerves enough to fall asleep again, but I immediately knew it was pointless. As soon as I closed my eyes I saw Dr. Browns evil face in front of me, towering over me while he talked about his disgusting methods. Sometimes, in the worst nights, I dreamed of what they were going to do to me, I saw myself screaming and crying... sometimes I saw how he did it to Zayn or Greg, Louis, Liam, Harry, my dad... Today I had dreamed of him taking my girls away, torturing them, doing the same to them as he did to me when I was a baby.

Suddenly I couldn't stay in bed anymore and almost fell to the floor with how hastily I tried getting up. A quick glance at my husband told me that he was still very much asleep, which was good because he really needed it and I tiptoed over to the door. I didn't even think about where I was going, I just opened the door across from ours and immediately felt more at peace. The twin's room was quiet and warm, dimly lit by the little nightlight that we had to be able to see them and the sound machine was making soft ocean sounds. Both girls were sound asleep, their little hands curled into tiny fists and I smiled when I saw that Evie had once again spit out her pacifier and replaced it with her thumb instead. I resisted the urge to get them out of their cribs just to cuddle them and took a seat in the rocking chair from where I could see them both and pulled my knees up to my chest. There was still this constricting feeling in my chest and I curled my fists in an attempt to ground myself. I was here, in my babies nursery and everybody was fine, there was nobody threatening them or anybody else I loved. It was alright. Or it would be alright. It just needed time, that's what the psychologist at the hospital had said, the day after I came back home... Greg and Zayn had insisted that I went there to get checked out and I had a talk with a psychologist, which turned out to be pretty good. He had even given me his phone number and told me to call him if I felt like things were getting too much for me. PTSD was a serious matter, he said. PTSD. Even the word sounded horrible, terrifying. I didn't call him though, I didn't need to. There were so many people here for me whom I could lean on if things were getting too much. Which they did, there were days when I felt like everything around me was too much, too much noise, too much snow or sunlight, too much being a parent, too many people... too much Greg and dad, too much Liam and Louis, sometimes too much Zayn and Lilah and Evie. Even too much Niall.