You're My Everything

Chapter 29: Scream

*Liz's Perspective*

The wedding. Jesy's words catch me as I walk right out of my room, out of everyone I love's lives, hands bloodied and all.

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Zayn and Perrie waltz around to A Thousand Years, their first song. Her dress, though long and dazzling, doesn't drag and make her stumble. She dances as she and Zayn are locked in their own moment, together. Everyone watches, too mesmerized by the couple--now united, as one--to do anything else. They move around as one unit, no one leading, no trips, no awkwardness. The entire dance seems like a single movement, with two bodies as one.

Their eyes paint almost the perfect picture of love. They're smiling, like best friends. I'm so overwhelmingly happy for them, yet overwhelmingly lonely and hurt. It's not my day and I know it, but he should be here.

I thought that would be me one day. Now I know I could never do that. Now that he's gone.

My breathing and body stance staggers and convulses at even the thought. The one thing that takes over my mind now adays is the one thing that tortures me the most.

I nearly fall over, but I barely notice. I'm too caught up in my head.

"Liz, are you gonna dance?" Kate asks me quietly, Niall at her heels. I just pick my head up and look at her. She already knows I won't.

I can't.

She nods, and Niall leads her away, with her purple bridesmaid's dress swinging above her knees.

I look down at myself. My arms are crossed in front of me, bare, with pale goosebumps raised. My lavender dress is beautiful--youthful-- about the opposite of me right now.

A tear streaks down my cheek. Wiping them off has become a habit, I do it without thinking.

Somewhere through the song I found myself sitting in a cream-colored chair, my legs tucked under my body. I'm shaking. I shouldn't be so selfish on a day like this. This isn't my day to mope, I've already had plenty, and I don't plan on ruining Zayn and Perrie's day. This day is a day of love. Not whatever twisted thing I'm feeling.

Yet I do it anyway. Selfish and I know it. But I don't change. I keep on being me. Hate it.

Song after song comes on, fake smile after fake smile I give. Never speaking. Harry will be the last person I ever said a word to. I'm determined. Even if I die alone, having not spoken since age 18, I'll be content with that.

People who lose their voices such as I, can end up in asylums and other mental hospitals. Now that I think of it, this thought--this idea--sounds brilliant, beautiful. Inviting. Sitting alone in a cell, locked up, arms fastened around me. No words. No noise. No sound. Only remorse and regret. How beautiful, how lovely. I just wish that was me already. Now, I know thoughts such as this should frighten me, sicken me, but they don't as I'm sure you've heard. Loneliness and silence is my only lullaby. Lullaby out of this world.

This train of thought sidetracked me, but now I'm back here in the present. Only half in my mind again.

I see Zayn sweep Perrie off her feet and carry her bridal-style out of the area. He breaks into a run, and twirls her about. I see her throw her head back in a laugh, a carefree, joyful laugh. They go off into the distance until I can't see them anymore.

"Are you alright, there?" A hoarse voice coughs. I spin my head around, my eyes almost wild. I shrink into my chair. His eyes are a muddy brown, the kind when you mix two of the best shades of green and brown together. He's pretty tall, with black slacks and a suit. His broad shoulders fit well in the suit that cover his arms even though it's a nice night. He has blonde curls tucked under a hat like...like...