Tormented (Zouis Talik Student/Teacher)

Chapter Seventeen

Zayn's POV: 

I was sick the following schoolday morning, but I refused to stay at home again. I couldn't take it anymore-and I needed my friends around me. So I tugged on my schoolbag over my shoulder, and walked to school, unusually alone. 

But when I got there, I was surprised. Shocked, even. Nobody seemed to question me about Mr Tomlinson. Everybody just acted as usual, but I had expected many to come swarming to me, asking and demanding answers about Mr Tomlinson's arrest. But nobody came. It seemed they were just keeping their curiosities to themselves, or they just hadn't thought my sudden absence yesterday was suspicious at all. 

The hours of the school went by slower and slower, like every minute was a day. I was bored stiff, knowing I wouldn't have Mr Tomlinson's English class to look forward to, and when I reminded myself of that, I just grew quiet and sad and desperate for him. He needed to come back... he was innocent. I ran my hand through my hair for the sixth time already this early period in Maths class, and I was barely listening to a word Mr Unwin was saying. Some shit about algebra and Guass... I wanted nothing more than to just run through those class doors, or jump out a window. Just get out of here and into Mr Tomlinson's arms...

Almost as if my wish was granted by my mental fairy godmother, the school receptionist, Donnamarie, burst through the door and into the stiffling Maths classroom. 

''C-can I help you?'' Mr Unwin asked her. Donnamarie glanced at him.

''Yes, yes, is Mr Malik in this class please?'' she asked, staring round. I got up slowly from my chair, curious, and aware every eye in the classroom was upon me. Donnamarie smiled at me. ''If I could please take him for this period and the rest?''

''Uh, yes, yes, go ahead. Mr Malik, you'll get homework tomorrow for this,'' Mr Unwin called back to me as I exited the classroom, Donnamarie's heels clipping behind me every stride she took.

''Yeah, yeah, whatever,'' I mumbled. I turned to the receptionist as we walked quickly down the endless school corridor, towards the main entrance. ''Where are we going?'' I ask her.

''Your going to the headmaster. He wants to take you out of school, but god know's where,'' she sighed, as she bustled  me outside the school doors, and into the parking lot. I was confused.

''B-but the headmaster's office is back that way,'' I said. Donnamarie smiled patronizingly at me.

''He's in a cab waiting for you. Don't worry, you don't have to pay,'' she reassured when she saw my face, ''Just get in, and he'll tell you what you're doing.''

I was still confused, but I followed her instructions, and hauled myself inside the black shiny cab. Donnamarie was right; Mr Harris was waiting inside. He smiled at me when he saw me, then tapped the window screen to the driver. The cab rolled out the school premises. I opened and shut my mouth like a gaping fish, unsure of what to ask first.

''It's all right Mr Malik, don't look so alarmed.'' he said, ''I'm taking you to the prison. To see Mr Tomlinson. He requested a private meeting. Normally these privelages are not allowed, but seeing as you're over eighteen and I have the authority requried, there are no problems.''

I didn't care about the legalities. I was just ecsatic about seeing Mr Tomlinson. I couldn't sit still for the rest of the journey, but when we rolled up outside the prison, I began to feel fearful. Mr Tomlinson didn't deserve to be in prison. It was wrong. I didn't know if he would be the sweet, and kind and funny person he normally is, or if he'd be scary and cruel. I wrung my hands as Mr Harris lead me inside the historical, decaying building that was the prison that encased my lover.

The place was cold, and had a horrible atmosphere of heavy duty emotions and the immovable air of giving up. It was the city prison, for criminals to excavate from miles round, so there were cells and lie detectors and scary looking policeman standing round on patrol. It scared me. But Mr Harris stood next to me like the tough, respetful person he was. He was reassuring, but I was still apprehensive. Mr Harris lead me to the front desk, and smiled at the man behind it.