Paranoia (Zayn Malik) (editing)

Chapter 22: Support

Luna's POV

I am running. I don't know where to. It's too dark to see my own hand in front of my face, let alone where I am headed.

I'm in the woods, that's all I know. The leaves rustling below my feet, the wind whistling through the trees and the damp smell of grass are my only hints.

I don't know why everything is scarier at night. Everything just becomes more ominous when the sun rays are no longer reflecting, as if the moonlight is a filter on the eyes, the same one used to help kids imagine there are monsters under their beds.

My foot gets caught on something hard, maybe a tree root. I stumble forward, rolling over myself into the ground, soaking my clothes with the rain collected in the fallen leaves and the mud from the ground, my skin gets caught a few times by twigs, slicing me gently and leaving me stinging.

The feeling of being completely vulnerable is sinking in, and fast. My body won't let me stand, I am victim to gravity and her anger.

I know that this is the end, even before it catches up to me. It's in the air, thick and palpable. Written in front of me in semantics.

you are going to die. My subconscious is whispering to me but it makes my ears bleed like it is screaming. My body is accepting death, signing away my right to move it, get it out of the imminent danger it lays in, no, it wants to stay. Wait for my end peacefully, staring up at the dark sky, not a star in sight. I am only able to blink, so blink I do. I close my lids, savouring the final autonomy I happen upon. When I reopen them, two stars have appeared, burning brightly too close to me. But they burn red, not white, and they don't look like stars.

No.

They are eyes.

I shoot upwards, happy to feel movement back in my limbs as I tear myself out of the paralysis of  my sleep. I am panting, heart racing and my eyes darting around the room. It is still dark, the singular light bulb not doing much to bring light to the room. I have no idea what time it is, but from the natural clock of my body I'm guessing its morning.

I let my feet find the floor as my heart slows down, grounding itself in reality. I make my way to the small bathroom, twisting the silver knob of the cold water tap and splashing myself in the face. I am sodden with sweat, it's making my clothes stick to me. I reach into the drawer underneath the sink, grateful to find a plain black t-shirt that is too big for me. I pull off my own top, replacing it with the fresh black material, as it pulls past my head I get a familiar whiff of a lavender scent. This must be Zayn's. I always pictured the first time I would wear his clothing would be after sleeping together, not while he's downstairs in chains, but I cherish the intimacy of it never-the-less.

I'm scared to open the large locked door across the room, but there is no other way to figure out what time of day it is, whether Zayn will have returned to himself, or if the full moon is still wreaking havoc on his psyche. I move toward it, cautiously pulling the large bolt away from the door. It slowly creaks open, and I'm happy to see sunlight from the hallway seeping through.

I poke my head out, checking from side to side and seeing nothing but the long hallway.

"Zayn?" I call, even though I know if he is still downstairs I won't be able to hear his reply. But he will hear me, his superhuman hearing will let him know I'm searching.

I hear the thud of a chain below me from the basement floor, Zayn's floor. I interpret this to mean he's still in them.

I step out, bare feet against the wooden floor. I quickly move to him, still scared, but now upset at the notion of him stuck in the chains.