Salem Falls

With a newspaper held out in front of him, Zayn Malik threw his feet on top of the coffee table, happy to make his mark on the wooden surface while his mother was away. She would scold him for it if she saw, but she was at the grocer’s, so he knew he could get away with it for the time being.

The news of Salem Falls read as usually did, simple articles about activities at the school, an accident that happened on the outskirts of town, interviews from locals about how they were getting prepared for the duck hunting season.

Sighing, Zayn tossed the paper onto the table, as he sunk further into the sofa.

As soon as he did, his living room door popped open, and he knew he’d been caught. He threw his feet back to the ground, speaking before he had a chance to look.

“Mom, I’m so sorry. I swear I was just –”

The moment he laid eyes on his mother, he knew something was wrong. Not wrong in that she was angry he dirtied up her table, but wrong in the way that left her tear stained eyes sunk back into her head.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” Zayn said, quickly.

He ran to his mother’s side, wrapping his arms around her. His mother, inches shorter than him, fell against his body, as she shook as sobs flowed from her. She was mess and Zayn was dying to know why, but she was in no condition to tell him.

In all his life, he had never seen his mother so upset. Not when he broke his arm, or when her mother passed away. She was uncontrollable, her entire body collapsing around him.

“Mom,” Zayn whispered between her sobs. “Mom, what’s going on?

Slowly, she pushed herself away from him, her face still flooding with tears but wails no longer coming from her. Her eyes were deep and in so much pain. She was his mother, and all Zayn wanted was to take that pain away.

Patricia stared at her son, with his father’s dark eyes and pointed nose, and she saw every bit of the man and her son. Tears continued to fall, though she tried her best to control herself.

“Zayn,” she said, her voice cracking as she spoke. “Your father –”

Another sob fell from her lips and she was unable to go on, but she didn’t need to. Zayn knew what she was going to say. He knew it before she said it. His body felt it. His heart sunk. Every good feeling rushed from his body and replaced with sorrow.

He didn’t allow himself to show any emotion until she was pressed up against him again. Only when she couldn’t see his face did he let tears fall from his eyes. He held his mother against him, knowing he was the only one that would be able to comfort her.

Without having to think about it, he led his mother to the sofa, so she didn’t have to worry about using her legs any longer. Neither of them were able to think or feel anything besides pain.

He didn’t know when it happened, but sometime during their countless hours of crying, his mother had fallen asleep. He had carried to her room immediately, tucking her underneath the cover in the bed she’d once been able to share with his father, and it pained him to know that she’d have to sleep alone.

When Zayn awoke the next morning, his entire body was in pain. He was reluctant to do it, but he slipped out of bed, all of his muscles aching as he did. He wanted to lay in bed until he couldn’t feel anymore, but he wasn’t awarded the luxury.

Like his father before him, overnight, he had been given a responsibility he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready for. All his life, he had been told that he would be the heir to the Sixth Circle thrown, but he never thought it would happen so soon. He was too young to run the coven, and his father had only taught him half of what he needed to know.

Pulling his slippers onto his feet, he made his way down to the kitchen, not knowing whether or not his mother had gotten out of bed yet.

He found her standing in the center of the room, a mug of coffee in hand and staring at the sky. She was taken from reality and he wanted to shake her back into it, so she could help him figure out what he needed to do as quickly as possible, but he couldn’t do that to her.

Grabbing his phone from the countertop, Zayn dialed the number of the Croaxley’s home. With a steady voice, he spoke to Aaron Croaxley, letting the coven member know what happened to his father. Aaron knew immediately what had to be done and had the funeral arrangements made before Zayn could tell him otherwise.

Just like that, at just 18 years old, Zayn was ready to bury his father.