The Moon {Zayn Malik AU}

One ~ Lonely

Lizzie's POV

It started out all frantic. Like when your a kid and you fall into a deep end of the pool that you were told not to wander off too but did anyway. First you start to see that it is different than you expected it to be. Next its the stage of panic with nothing more than chemical dosed water eating you alive and sinking you making its main goal for you not to have any air. And when the child becomes ingested in what feels like a part of the sea miles away from land when it really is just the six foot mark at the pool, he feels lonely. Lonely because they know that it's too late for any one to save them. And that's how I feel.

I feel lonely. There's no one around with me and the eerie silence of what feels like having a conversation with a wall is dreadful. Even Autumn leaves have more of a relationship with each other than I ever will with anyone.

And that's what I hate most about being up here. It feels so empty and silent. I know its supposed to be like the woods but it doesn't feel like it. Think of a city without cars or people. Yep, you get the picture. If this so called 'heaven' is supposed to be great, then why isn't it great or at least good? From everything I learned and was told throughout my(short)life, heaven was supposed to be a place of tranquility and serenity not silent anger and screaming depression! The woods being silent angers me so much that I just want to punch someone for the sake of hearing someones voice. It doesn't have to be a person it could be a bird singing just as long as it reminds me that I'm still a person, living or dead.

So I wander around the maze of trees until I find a stranger one. An you know what I do? I lean my back against the trunk and bump my head against the tree still not hearing the sound of at least the soft thumpf of my head greeting the tree. It doesn't even feel alive to be honest. My back slides down the abstract surface which scrapes my back through my tee although I don't feel it. My bum hits the ground, still no sound, and I cry. My knees bend towards me and I cry. Salt water tears stain my jeans and create mini-puddles on the peak of my knee-caps. And I sit there and cry. Just cry.

The only audible sound is my horrid wailing which makes it seem like I'm being repetitively slaughtered with an axe. But I hate that sound.

I try pin my earlobes against the opening of my ears but I can still hear myself crying. But that's closest I can get to not hearing myself at all.

I stop wailing. But however water still slides down my face. My fears of never seeing some one only tease and haunt me even more until more tears practically puddle around me. For once I like this silence. As odd as it is its better for it to be silent than have myself only remember the sound of crying.

Eventually the tears stop and I'm glad that the silence is filled with my breathing only, but there's still a void in the atmosphere telling me that there needs to be at least some sort of noise. But there is nothing that I can possibly do right now asides from cry and speak and I feel like doing neither.

I don't know how long I've been sitting at this tree but I don't mind. Propelling myself up, I take myself again on a walk that most likely will lead me to expressing another emotion. And as I walk not even the dead leaves under my heavy boots crunch. Still silence.

The sun's light that was being shaded by more leaves finally shows but this time on a mirror like lake. It looks so peaceful like its sleeping but something draws me to it wanting to disturb it for sound. Yet I don't feel like it. I simply just sit close to the edge playing with rocks and pebbles. I give up on trying to replenish for sound. My hands subconsciously pick up some small pebbles and skip them across the lake. The far end of my mind still says I should still try but I still seriously don't want to end up doing so.

I've spent my entire life thinking that silence was being alone in the room with no physical sound going on. Or if you live in the city and car alarms, horns and chatter of people becomes white noise, but still being counted as silence.

But no. It's just dead silent. As in the vibration of electricity dashing through wires is gone, the whisper of heat flying through air vents is gone, and even hearing wind dancing outside is gone. It's all gone.

But I still can hear my own voice what so ever but me speaking with no surround sound is frightening. My own voice that I've heard from years against the canvas of silence scares me.

And like you've guessed it, I hate it.

Even when I skip the pebbles across the water, there still isn't that classic 'plop' or 'doink' you hear.

I can only imagine the sound in my head but it isn't the same. I know it's fiction and not actually real.

I have a small cabin by the lake that I "live" in. It's small but it's nice to say the least. You walk in and it basically looks like an RV except it's not on wheels and it doesn't have a kitchen. Because then again you kinda can't eat up here.

My cabin is filled with decorations that remind me of past memories that I've had on Earth(I'm not sure if heaven is on Earth or not so sorry if I'm wrong). I wear an outfit that I didn't recognized once I got here but at the time I was too busy thinking about other things to notice.

I'm stuck in a pair of skinny jeans that are new to me and traditional converses that I have to say that I like. I have no idea who dressed me but whoever did, thanks.

I'm suited in a burgundy sweater that in reality wouldn't provide much warmth but there's a white camisole under it that does just fine.

One thing that I have that I can brutally remember without thinking too hard is a rather loose hand made bracelet that my sister made me. It has my name spelled out with those little cube beads with black letters in a bold font.

She added grey circular beads between each letter of my name that remind me of her eyes. I can only giggle at the thought of her small fingers trying to get each bead on the strand of sewing string. Then attempting to tie a knot on the end and the tie another one to ensure that the beads won't slip off. How cute.

It's been a habit of mine to clutch my left wrist were the bracelet is located whenever I feel nostalgic. It's probably the only thing here that keeps me grounded.

I've been so selfish with everything, convincing myself that I was going to have a full life and die when it was time but my time wasn't now. If I could have one more day to hold my family, one more day to at least learn at uni. Just one more day to do all the things I'll never do anyway.

I'm still at the lake but I'm not throwing rocks anymore. Instead of sitting down I'm standing up with my hand yes still on my wrist.

I think about going back to the cabin but before I do, I pick up one last rock, a giant one too, ans hold it with both of my hands. My arms stretch ofer the lip of the lake and before I drop it, I only remind myself that there will be no sound whatsoever, no matter how much I want to hear it.

So my hands release my grip from the chunk of Earth and it falls. The rock gets close and closer to the water and once it is drowned. I experience something that a part of me never wanted to hear.

Sound.