Untamed | ZAYN

Chapter 11

We gotta find our place.

And we'll go there now.

I can't get no satisfaction alone.

Zayn's POV

I don't know how I always managed to fall asleep. One second I was putting the bags in my room and the next, I'm waking up from a nap.

Not complaining though, I had slept peacefully without the disturbance of the accident.

I couldn't be asked to move for now so I laid on the bed, listening to the hazy voices of my grandma and Sierra. They seemed to have got off on the right note anyways so I wasn't worried about having to make sure they got along.

The room I was in held faint remnants of my uni days, the only familiarity being the desk I had studied from and the bed I slept in. I had been in and out of this house during university and this Essex house didn't hold much meaning to me. My old room back in Yorkshire was more nostalgic, as I had lived there from a child all the way till the end of my teenage years.

I could barely remember any details of my life before I moved in with Nana. The only details I could recall clearly for the first five years of my life was the car crash. I could remember that perfectly, the feeling of the collision and the horrifying screams of my parents.

The rest was blurry and the only way I had enhanced my memories had included flicking through pictures of when my parents had still been alive. It was too painful for me though, it drove me insane knowing I couldn't fucking remember them perfectly and I was just setting myself up for panic attacks everytime I tried.

I examined the frames hanging on the wall; Nana had stolen the opportunity to put them up after I had moved to London. They were good recollections however and I appreciated her efforts, it meant a lot to me, even if I was shitty at expressing it.

Most of them were of my teenage days which had included a lot of music obsessions - my vinyls of the Arctic Monkeys's albums were stored on the shelf beside me. There were pictures of me in Primary too where I was grinning while eating an ice cream or sulking because I hadn't been allowed to watch TV. My nan had given me the best childhood possible and I could never complain about it because regardless of the fact my parents were dead, I had still grown up with a normal life. And that had sufficed me and had been more than enough.

Someone knocked on the door and I told them to come in, sitting up on the bed. Sierra walked in and surveyed all the details of the room.

"Wow," she said, taken aback, "this is some interior designing stuff right here."

"Yeah, I know," I agreed, "I didn't let her decorate it while I was still in uni so when I moved out, she obviously took advantage of the freedom and hung everything up. I don't blame her though."

The little shelf next to the bed caught her eyes and she moved towards it, pulling out the Favourite Worst Nightmare album.

"Shut up!" she squealed, "My cousin used to be obsessed with the Arctic Monkeys, I remember she would play their albums on repeat. I prefer their AM album though, Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High is my favourite track."

Sometimes, Sierra would speak so fast when she was passionate about something and I had to tell her to speak slowly. Mostly it was just to tease her but sometimes it was because I didn't have a clue what she was on about.

"You're so cute when you're talkative like this," I said truthfully, smirking at her. I watched her look at the albums, rolling my tongue on the side of my cheek.