Princess (Ziam)

Past

His eyes held clear recognition of the phrase, and I felt a dash of relief as he smiled gently at me, the nerves still evident, but he noddedin agreement, ready to walk into the building.

"You can do this, Zayn. I'm so proud of you," Colette said as she pulled him into a hug, and I grinned at their support for each other. I knew it was a hard moment for both of them. They were both facing someone who completely turned their lives around.

Colette finally let go, and we all walked into the buidling together. Zayn and I stood in the back as Colette did all of the talking and filled out paperwork at the front desk. Then we were led through metal detectors and sniffed by drug dogs as well. Finally, we were ordered to follow a lady to the visitation room.

"My name's officer Sumner," The lady introduced. "Please follow me."

We all followed her down a long hallway, passing by several other officers on the way. Everyone seemed super busy, and I was suddenly aware that we were in a building with actual inmates, several of which were terribly dangerous. A spike of fear shot through me, but I shut it all out and focused on being present for Zayn.

"Alright, this is the visitation room. You'll have a good thirty minutes to chat, but you may leave sooner. I'll be right by the door waiting for you." The officer opened the door and allowed us to step inside, but she stopped Zayn along the way.

"You look rather nervous, kid. Who're you visiting?" She questioned, seeming pretty concerned about him. It was easy to see why. He looked nearly ill, but I knew it was all of his memories flooding back at him, assaulting him in every way they could, breaking down his barriers and shattering his strength to pieces.

"M-my dad," He said, jaw clenching at the mention of the man before he averted his eyes to the ground, pulling his hand from mine, a look of shame taking over him. He didn't need to feel ashamed at all.

The officer seemed to give a knowing look as her eyes trailed from where our hands split apart, taking in my slightly hurt expression and Zayn's guilty one. Her eyes trailed over the small white lines on Zayn's arms-- the scars of his past all laid out on display without his leather jacket over them. And she shook her head.

Her hand lifted up Zayn's chin, and she smiled kindly. "Never let your head hang. Keep it up high. And never be ashamed of who you are," She offered, taking both of our hands and linking them together again.

"Want some advice?" She questioned rhetorically. "Whatever the bastard did to you, you didn't deserve. He can't hurt you here, and I'll make sure of it. I can tell you're strong, kid. Never let him see you hang your head. Look him in the eyes and let him know why you came. You've clearly got a strong support system behind you. Don't waste it. Don't let him win. Take it from someone who knows a thing or two about toxic parents."

She gave a supportive wink and a pat to Zayn's shoulder before she let us walk through the door. We all took a seat at one of the visitation tables. Colette was on the right, Zayn in the middle, and me on the left still holding his hand over the table top.

I felt him shaking his leg up and down, so I ran my thumb over his hand and laid my head on his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his neck, doing my best to show that I was here, and I wasn't going to let him face this alone.

Finally, the door for the inmates opened, and a police officer walked through with a prisoner in handcuffs. Zayn's father.

He was a tall man, and he didn't seem weak at all. He had hair that was similar to Zayn's, almost all of his features were a close resemblance to his, in fact. But his lips held a cocky smirk as he looked around the room, and I felt the coldness in his eyes as they drifted over me before finally seeing Zayn and locking onto him. And I felt it. The evilness in his stare. The way he looked Zayn over like a predator would his prey. And I knew he was far more dangerous than I could have ever been prepared for.