The Pack

Chapter 4

(A/N so i know this chapter is pretty short but its because i had to cut it off at that point because the next chapter is going to jump a little time??? this chapter is really cute between Zayn and India and theyre starting to develope a little thing but its also really sad so i'd just like to warn you sorry thats why i didnt drag it on)

~

Zayn’s town was surprisingly bigger than I expected it to be, it looked almost like my town back in Colorado... it made me miss home.

I was sitting in the cab of Zayn’s big red pickup truck as I saw the hospital coming closer. My heart picked up its pace, I wasn’t sure if I was even ready for this.

“India?” Zayn glanced down at me, turning into the hospital, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I said a little too shakily and quickly.

He pulled into a spot close to the front and turned off the ignition.

“Hold on,” He said as he left me in the car and shut his door. He made his way around to my side of the car as he opened the door for me. I smiled at him, saying a thank you as he grabbed my hand helping me jump down from the giant truck.

When I hit the ground, I expected him to let go, but he didn’t. He kept holding on as he started walking forward into the building.

We walked up to a desk; a woman was sitting behind it looking bored.

I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just looked up at Zayn. He smiled at me and squeezed my hand tighter, reassuring me.

“I’m here to see my dad he’s… in the morgue,” I said quietly, unable to make eye contact as tears threaten to spill again.

“India? Yes I expected you’d be coming,” She gave me a pity smile as she pushed herself off her chair and stood up, “Please follow me,”

I stood frozen in my spot, second guessing if I could really muster the strength to see my dad like that. I felt like he was at home and I was dreaming- having a nightmare, rather. I felt like he would just be home and he would smile and ask me how my day was.

Zayn started walking, he tugged at my hand but I couldn’t move. He came back then, facing me. The secretary just stood in the doorway, observing silently.

He let go of my hand, it suddenly felt empty and cold, and I frowned more. He brought his hands up to my cheeks and wiped a tear I didn’t know I had let fall. He rested his hands on my cheeks and rested his forehead against my own. My body fluttered a little at the gesture.

“India,” He said, barely audible.

I didn’t reply, I couldn’t reply.

“If you don’t want to see, we can turn around and go back.” He said surely,

“No,” I said strongly after a moment, as I looked up. He took a step back then and gave me a sad smile, I wasn’t sure why.

This time I began to pull him along, grasping his hand again for comfort.

We took a short elevator ride down to the morgue, when we exited I shivered at the change from heat to coldness.

The secretary went over to a drawer, I knew my dad was in there. I stayed in the door frame.

“India, we just need to confirm that this is your father… can you at least do that for me?” The woman asked, unlocking the drawer.

I nodded, slowly stepping forward alone as she pulled a sheet off of him.

I’d never seen anything so pale before, something that used to be so full of life. Moments flashed through my head of all the memories we shared. I remembered when he taught me how to swim, and how to ride my bike. I remember him taking me on trips all the time to go hiking. I let silent tears stream my face. He looked like my dad, but different… like he’d gotten powder thrown at him but instead of cleaning it off he decided to take a nap. I gripped his lifeless hand; I choked when I realized he would never grip it back again.

“That’s my dad,” I said, giving his hand a squeeze and turning around, shutting my eyes.

I felt an arm wrap around my waist, and a presence at my side. I looked over at Zayn, for some reason he looked really sad too. Maybe he had hoped it wasn’t really my dad. I know I did.

“Do you want to go home?” Zayn said, and paused, “Um I mean, back to my home?”

I raised my lips into a smile, but only for a second as I nodded.

“India if you’d like, you can talk to your dad for a little,” The woman said,

“I don’t think I can,” I looked up towards the ceiling, “I don’t know if he’d hear me anyways,”