Two Broken Minds || Brendon Urie || Fanfiction

Part 1

Anniese's POV

The screaming echoes in my head as I sit on the floor in a puddle of my tears. He broke up with me two months ago and I still wasn't over him. No boy on earth could replace what we had. Scenes together -the energy between us- played on repeat in my head. I thought that maybe I had found my escape from reality and the stupid shit I dealt with, but I should've known I was wrong. I'm always wrong, making the dumbest decisions. 

The box rested on my lap, filled with different pills I had collected over time. I opened the box and counted each pill. 20mlg, 40mlg, 80mlg, the numbers increased quickly until I had reached 855mlg. That would do the job. I thought I had found happiness, but now there truly is nothing left for me on earth. Everything I thought would resolve and improve over time never did, and based off of the past few weeks, never would either. I closed the lid and stood up from the floor. With the last bit of might I had left, I pushed the screen from the window, grabbed my note, and hopped out. I wiped tears from my face as I sprinted down the cold rainy and deserted streets I was seeing for the last time, thunder rippling in my ear. 

I reached the public forest, gloomy and dark in the early hours of the morning, and approached it cold and with tears piercing my cheeks. The wind brushed against my shoulders sending goosebumps along my back. I went as deep into the woods as I could, clenching the note and box tightly against my chest. No turning back now. I seated myself on a flat clearing in the middle of nowhere, and pulled heaps of the pills out, shoveling them into my mouth like cake before a peaceful purge, only this time I wouldn't be purging anything out. Tears trickled off of my cheeks mixing in with rain, and I crumple the note and hold it in my hand as I lay down against the wet grass of the woods. I'm going to be so much happier not alive, and maybe he'll be happy too. I'm only doing the world a favor. The last thing I saw was a flashlight brushing through trees and plants, heading towards me. I know it's too late. It has to be.

Brendon's POV

I was so tired of slaving my life away in these conditions. My dad constantly too drunk to read the time, and my mom constantly trying to get away from home. Every day was a new adventure into abuse and bruises, something you wouldn't have thought twice of being behind the scenes of a pastor's kid. I was so sick of waking every day to the sound of my dads gun piercing holes into my door, and the constant reminder I was on the edge of leaving average weight for my gender and height. I would spend a lot of my time at the park's bathroom, shoving two fingers down my throat in hopes he would shut up, even if it may never happen it was at least worth a shot. It became so common for me to throw up that everything I ate I naturally threw up around thirty minutes after. I read online somewhere I was walking my way right into an eating disorder, but it felt right, not like a bad decision. I grabbed my backpack, stuffed with snacks, CDs, spare change, water, and a flashlight and opened my window, jumping onto the tree and climbing down from it. Our house shrunk as I ran further and further, my bruises glistened in the street lights, the rain soothing the stinging sensation with a cold coat of water, like an ice pack. I was wearing something that exposed my bruises, and if my dad found out he'd only add to the blue and purple collection. Whenever a car would drive by, I'd hide in a bush and pop back out, praying it wasn't my dad and that if it was I was hidden well enough for him not to notice me. When sirens began closing in, I knew just how dead I was, sprinting as fast as I could towards the pitch black park, jumping into the bathroom, and crouching on the toilet seat of the stall. I just had to wait until they went away. Footsteps echoed through the bathroom, and flashlights shined around the bathroom walls, working their way towards the stall.

"Is anyone here?" a deep masculine voice called out, and I pursed my lips, trying not to make a sound. They pushed on the door, and I hitched my breath. Another push. The flashlight was set on the ground and I saw the hat of the police officer set down next to it. I'm dead. I'm so dead. He slid under and looked right at me. I should've just committed suicide, it wouldn't have nearly as high of a risk of being caught or stopped, but now I'm in this situation, sure to be adding to my fucking collection. A stray tear fell from my cheek, knowing my fate. 

"There you are. Your dad called for us to look for you, it's very surprising to find someone like the pastor's kid doing this, you portray yourself as such a normal fitting and proper kid, so something must be going on. Don't worry, you're not going back to your house anytime soon, you're gonna be taking a little break time at Oak View," Oak View? The mental institution where they carry out bullshit methods that claim to cure anxiety and depression? This is so dumb, but at this point, anything sounds better than being trapped inside the living nightmare of my house, so I guess I have no choice but to comply. 

He began to stare at my bruises as we walked to his car, and I suppose he also picked up my shivering,

"Hey, you want my jumper?" he questioned,

"Yeah, please," I replied, as he handed his jumper over to me, and I wrapped it around my shoulders as we entered the police car. I rested my head against the window as he drove through the empty city streets, lights flashing by me. 

(A/N - Thank you so much for reading the first chapter! I worked really hard on this and have a lot planned plot-wise, hoping to improve as I write and to make the scenes that take place as interesting as possible. I even have hands-on experience with some of the things that will take place in the future of the book, so hopefully this turns out fairly intriguing to you!)