Old Works

Diana (Zayn Fanfic)

APRIL 27, 2015

I sighed as I looked at the picture. It was perfect, too perfect. Tears blurred my vision as I looked at my late mother. My fingers trembled as I held the last picture I had of her. The only remembrance I had left of her and her beauty was right there in my shaking hands.

I studied the old photograph for about the millionth time in my life. She had brown hair with curl at the end, sparkling chestnut brown eyes, and gorges, seamless skin. People say I look a lot like she did, but I would never know; she died when I was three.

She was ripped out of my life, leaving a huge, dark whole in it that nothing could fill. I didn't even have a dad left to love and comfort me; he ran away from the house mad, then got into a horrible, fatal car accident. I can't remember him at all.

I do have a tiny glimpse of my mom left though. I was little as I looked up at her. We were holding hands and hers easily engulfed mine. "I'll be right back, okay? I love you." she told me. I nodded and waited for her to return to the house.

But she never did. It was four hours before anything happened. Where's mama? My little mind wondered. A knock developed from the door and I went over to it out of curiosity. My eyebrows furrowed and my arms crossed as soon as I saw the tall man at my door. That's not mommy! I pouted. He noticed me standing there, and knocked on the door.

"Hey, sweetie. Can you let me in please?" he asked politely.

I replied, "No! You're a stranger!"

Mom had taught me better than that.

He responded, "It's okay. I'm a police officer, honey. You can trust me."

I contemplated if I should actually listen to this person. Mom did say something to me before about police officers.

"This is serious. I need to talk to you." he informed me.

I finally determined to let him in, but only after he slid me his shiny, professional-looking badge under the door. My little hands pushed against the heavy door as you let the man in.

He sat on the couch and instructed for me to sit on his lap. My mind was full of questions by this point. Who's he? Why is he here? I want mommy!Unfortunately, that's why he was there: my mom. He told me gently that she had a heart attack when at the store. Tragically, she didn't make it.

My tears created more water than ever possible; I didn't stop sobbing for hours. That was MY mom. She was MINE. To me, her death was unexpectedly ripping half of my heart out, then leaving the other half to suffer alone with nothing to help comfort it or stop its bleeding. To this day, I can still recall every detail that came with it-including the inexpressible pain.

I broke eye contact with the picture; it brought back too many memories-way too many-, and I couldn't handle them all.

I collapsed to my knees in the narrow pathway known as my hall, curling myself into a ball. I looked at the blue walls coated with old photographs. I straightaway chose to stare at the flooring instead. Everywhere I looked it seemed as if there were more regrets and things I wish I could undo that were waiting to tackle me and strangle my throat.

I made the agonizing mistake of glancing up for a second. My eyes were met by the picture framed in blue. I gasped, turning away with a brutal sob. Great. Just great. It had to be that picture. I thought sarcastically.

The blue-framed pic. was horrifying to me at the moment. It was of me and Damon. Just his name pained me.

In the picture, we were lying beside each other with a fresh patch of grass in the background. I used to adore that picture before, well, the incident happened-the incident where he dumped me unexpectedly.