serendipity // ziam au

i am unhappy.

The darkness allowed the red and blue lights to illuminate the room like paints on a canvas. I heard the sounds of sirens and mumbled swear words as I gripped onto my consciousness. Pain creeped through every part of my body as there was a knock on the door. Another knock. Another knock. Two more and then the door was kicked down, revealing men in uniform. I wanted to move from my place of lying helpless on the floor, but I was unable to. I felt vulnerable and weak.

"Lower your weapon. Make this easier on yourself." That had to have been an officer who said that. I didn't recognize that voice. My father screamed back incoherent threats as I felt myself slipping further away. Loud and rushed words were exchanged between the officers and my father until it finally happened. Three shots, each one louder than the previous. Then there was a thud, and I knew exactly what happened. I squeezed my eyes shut as tight as I could. I tried to call out for them, but I couldn't. Nothing but silence came out when I opened my mouth.

"Is anyone here?" It was quiet after they asked the question. I raised my arm slightly, letting it drop and hit the ground. The sound was quiet, but I knew they heard it, as I heard footsteps walking towards me following the attempt. Soon a hand was on my shoulder, and I opened my eyes to see them. There were three men, the one touching me being a man who was darker skinned than the other two. He spoke first.

"Can you identify yourself? Please tell us your name, age, and why you are here," he said, his hand never leaving my shoulder, his eyes going from cold to kind as he examined me. I reached my arm up, grasping my hand around his upper arm.

"One of you get an ambulance dialed and the other take a search of the house with your weapon ready. God knows what else is here," he instructed his associates. The two went separate ways as he turned his attention back to me.

"Try to talk. I know it hurts, but I need some information." I saw the sympathy in his eyes as he requested this. I looked him in the eyes as I slightly nodded my head, feeling my head pound as I did so. He gave me a smile as he pulled a small notebook and pen out of a bag that was beside him.

"I'm just going to say what I think this is, and you nod if I'm right, okay?" I nodded, and he went on. "The man who owns this house is your father, and he hurt you. Yes or no?" I nodded, and he wrote something down.

"Were you aware that your father was dealing drugs?" I nodded. He wrote it down, and then looked at me. The air around us seemed to tense, as he looked conflicted on whether to ask the next question or not.

"Were you aware that your father killed people?" Shock filled me as I shook my head. People. As in multiple humans. He wrote it down, and I started feeling antsy, moving my arms to try to sit up. I was lightly pushed back down.

"Don't hurt yourself more. You're going to have to talk for this one, kid. I need your age and your name," he said, urging me to work up the strength. As I was about to attempt to talk, people walked in carrying a stretcher. Paramedics.

"We'll talk later. I'll make sure it's me," the officer said before he stood up and walked away. I felt myself get lifted up onto the stretcher, noticing now how much pain I was in. My voice finally worked as I screamed out, gasping at how strong the pain was before I passed out entirely.

-

Waking up was something I wasn't so eager to do, but unfortunately occurred anyway. There was a lady wearing all white and glasses across the room who turned to me as soon as my eyes opened. She smiled, and left the room, returning with the same police officer from before. She then left, leaving the two of us alone. I stared up at him with wide eyes.

"Do you remember what happened?" His voice was calm as he took a chair, sliding it next to my bed. I nodded.

"I'm Officer Kennedy. You can call me Luke, if that makes you more comfortable. You're pretty banged up. Why don't you tell me how that happened?" He had the same notebook and pen as before, prepared to write down everything I said. My throat felt better than before. I guess it had been awhile since I was screaming and begging for him to stop.

"I made him mad. My dad. He, uh...he has been hurting me since I was eight. I'm sixteen now. You asked that earlier. And, uh, you asked for my name. It's Zayn, by the way." I looked at him, and he was encouraging me to go on. "I came home late from school because I stayed to get a little help on a paper. He thought...I don't know what he thought. But he was already drunk when I came home, so he just went off, I guess. He started hitting me...and it went on for about an hour or so until you guys came."

"Thank you for telling us this, Zayn. Your father was shot upon arrival. He refused arrest and threatened us by aiming his gun at us and disobeying our command to lower it. I'm sorry." His apology is genuine, but he has no reason for it to be.

"Do you know of any relatives you who could take you in? Your mother, perhaps?" Luke asked, and I shook my head.

"My mother died when I was seven, and I think my relatives all live in other countries," I answered, and he nodded.

"We'll have to find a family to foster you. Your life has already been so difficult, and I'm afraid it's not going to instantly improve with some of the families you get. I can promise you that no family will hurt you again. I'll personally make sure of it." His promise felt empty, but I nodded anyway. He told me to get some rest, and then left. Sleep sounded like the best option, and so I listened to him. Sleep meant feeling nothing. And that's what I want.

-

lyrics from anziety by logic