Icarus | Z.M.

84 | Flames

Victoria Tomlinson

I didn't know what I'd done wrong in my life. I behaved as best as I could when I was a kid, I did what I was told, always, I said please and thank you, I was polite to strangers, I was grateful for everything I had. The first thing I did against my parents was being friends with a boy—Niall, in their eyes it was the end of the world for me to know a boy that was not the man I would get married to. I tried to play to their rules and fulfil all of their expectations, for the most part anyway.

Maybe this was all punishment, for the times I snuck out, for the times I drank underage, the parties I'd attend, the sneaky hook-ups. The fact that I was fucking, and completely fucking in love with my bodyguard. I knew realistically, I wouldn't be in this place if I hadn't fallen for him. I'd be on the side of my parents if all of their manipulation had worked. I could have been married months ago to someone of their choosing, I could be having that man's kid if I'd fit their perfect narrative.

I would have been the perfect little robot, I'd have no thoughts of my own, no opinions, no feelings, because that wasn't what I was here for. I was here for decoration, and for having children. That was all my dad cared about. He wanted me married and he wanted me to continue on his bloodline. But now my husband was dead, and as I looked down, watching the blood-soaked knife drag along my lower abdomen, I wondered if I was dying too.

When Midas let go of the harsh grip he had around the back of my neck, I fell to the ground in a complete loss of strength.

Everything around me faded to a blur, the world didn't seem real. It was like being trapped underwater, everything was hazy, I couldn't see anything, the sounds coming from around me were loud, but muffled, I couldn't make out any of the words I was hearing.

I didn't know if I could feel anything. I could see the blur, the red seeping out through my clothes, spreading like it would never stop. I knew it should hurt, I was bleeding, I knew I was but I couldn't feel the sting. I was cut more times than I'd like to admit, the cuts — the wings down my back, they always hurt, they always feel like hot blades were being torturously dragged down my skin to maximise the pain as much as possible. I wouldn't be able to see the knife but 'd feel every groove and dent in the dirty blades that were used to slice my skin. I'd feel the blood dripping down while my skin separated under the metal. This wasn't like that. I could see the blood, I'd seen the knife, but I couldn't feel anything.

My ears were ringing, but slowly it felt like I was being brought up from underwater. The muffled words calling out from every corner of the room slowly became comprehensible. I swallowed, squeezing my eyes closed, maybe that would make me be able to see if I blinked away the treats that had built in my eyelashes.

When my vision cleared and I could focus, there was only one face in front of me. Eyes bright but full of terror, worry, darting around my face and my features. His hands were on my cheeks, my jaw, he was saying something, but it took me a little while longer to figure out what it was. Zayn.

"Vic! Victoria. Look at me baby. Please look at me." He was shouting, his eyes clouded with worry and every negative emotion that I never wanted to see in his expression. "Please, please, baby. Look at me. Let me know you can hear me."

I didn't fully understand what was going on, how I got into this position or how he so quickly moved from his position on the couch to kneeling down on the ground beside me in worry. "Zayn..."

"Hey, just breathe." he smoothed his palm down the side of my neck, resting his thumb just above the pulse point beneath my ear. His eyes glossed over and his words quickly became thick, strained. "Shh... it's okay." I glanced around the room, trying to figure out what was going on but he was quick to bring my attention back to him. "Look at me. Breathe. Breathe, baby."