Hi everyone! Thanks for2.78K reads! Wow, that is truly amazing. Anyway, I'm thinking of making a band imagine story. These will include band members from Fall Out Boy, Panic! At The Disco, My Chemical Romance, Sleeping With Sirens, etc. I will be taking requests for those as soon as I put it up, but I want to know first if that's something you guys would be interested in. Alright, enough talking, enjoy this chapter. :)
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Song for the chapter:
Gone - M83
One week later.
My breath trembled upon crawling out of my chest. My salty tears stained my t-shirt and made dark imprints on the carpet I was kneeling on. Just one more cut, I told myself as I slid the blade across my thigh, wincing as I did so. Just one more. I cried out in pain, throwing the blade into the sink, drops of dark vermillion turning the water sitting in the sink an ugly crimson.
The voices had faded, but my agony was just beginning. The relief only lasted for a few minutes, the regret boiling in my stomach as it ripped its way up my throat in a silent scream. I hugged my knees to my chest and weeped softly, beads of dark blood seeping from the new slits I had made in my skin.
I had received several texts the last few days from an unknown number. A gut wrenching feeling I had told me it was Taylor.
*I heard you've been with Patrick. That won't last.*
*He just feels sorry for you.*
*just kill yourself. Put everyone out of their misery. Or else things will only get worse for you.*
A knock was heard on the door, startling me. "Mel? Are you okay in there?"
"I'm fine! I'll be out in a minute..." I assured Patrick, who I could recognize by the sound of his sweet voice. Just the sound of it alone calmed me down.
"No, you're not. Have you been crying?" I wiped the tears from my damp eyes and met my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were glossy red orbs from hours of crying, my nose and cheeks blotchy and uneven.
"No. Don't worry, 'Trick. Don't be so paranoid." I watched his feet under the door, remaining still for a few second before I heard a loud sigh and he padded his way out of sight.
By now the amount of blood falling from my skin had doubled, and now a river of the dark, wet liquid was trickling slowly down my leg, reaching my ankle. Fearing it would make a puddle on the floor, I jumped in the shower and rinsed off the blood, watching with remorse as it swirled down the drain. As the water hit my new cuts, I had no choice but to bite my knuckles to keep from crying out, almost drawing blood as I did so.
I was so angry at myself. I tugged my hair and screamed at myself silently in the mirror. Nobody needs you, a voice assured me. He just feels sorry for you. He doesn't love you.
Maybe it was right. Maybe Taylor was right. It made perfect sense, after all. He only seemed to show more signs of affection after I showed him my cuts. They didn't need me. They're famous musicians, and I was just a failure. A broken, distraught, ugly, good for nothing failure. I couldn't even go out alone to escape. I was too fearful that I would run into another situation like I had a couple weeks ago. I was terrified, and I had a wound to show forth to that. And Taylor wasn't leaving me alone.
My phone began to buzz on the counter. The number read restricted.
A small voice in my head screamed for me to ignore it, but it wasn't enough to stop me.
"Hello?" I whispered.
"Surprise, bitch. I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me."
"Taylor?" I cried.
"Very observant. Tell me... Have you ever considered skipping a meal?"
"What?"
"Just try it. Boom. You'll be supermodel thin. Like me. That's why Patrick and I were together for so long."
"Leave me alone..." I sobbed.
"Patrick doesn't love you. He's been sneaking out this week. To hook up with me. He's that miserable with you. Sucks for you, I guess..."
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" I screamed into the receiver, tossing my phone across the room.
I broke into a loud fit of sobs, my back pressed against the door. It was all a lie. I was being used.
"Melanie, open the door!" Patrick yelled, pounding on the door so hard it began to shake with the force.
"Go away."
I could foresee him trying to open it and save me. But I wasn't going back. I calmly twisted the lock as he shook the door, desperately attempting to open it.
"Mel, why is the door locked?" A moment of silence fell before he came to his senses. And he realized. "Melanie, what are you doing?!" I searched the cabinets, my eyes settling on a bottle of sleeping pills. I wrapped my fist around it, twisting the cap as hard as I could until it popped open. This was it. No more agony. No more terrorizing voices in my head. I was no longer going to be a burden.
"MELANIE, OPEN THE DOOR!"
"Goodbye, it was nice knowing you," I said quietly as I filled up a glass of water, setting it next to the pills as I began to cut my arms for the last time.
"No, no, Melanie... Melanie, please! JOE! GUYS! HELP!" I heard footsteps scrambled to the main floor from the basement, cries of concern approaching.
"To wonderland," I whispered before popping a handful of pills into my mouth, washing them down with water. I didn't stop until they were all gone. They were all slamming on the door, yelling, arguing that I had to stay. I felt my vision blur, my bones becoming stiff, my blood replaced with thick lead.
The door busted open. Joe, Pete, Andy, and Patrick rushed in, seeing the blood on the floor, the bloody blade resting in my palm, all of the carnage in the sink.
"Make her throw up! Make her throw up! She took pills!" Patrick screamed. I felt two fingers being shoved roughly down my throat, my stomach heaving upwards as I retched into the bathtub, crying and shaking as my throat and nose burned. My chest felt like it was on fire, and my entire body ached miserably. I forced out the remaining contents of my stomach, coughing between sobs.
I turned around slowly. Pete and Andy stared at me with terrified, shocked expressions while Joe rubbed my back gently. Patrick was knelt on the floor, his hands concealing his face to stifle the sobs that ripped through his body every second.
"Why did you stop me?" I croaked, wiping the corner of my mouth.
"What were you thinking?" Joe screamed, shaking me by the shoulders. He looked down at my arms and thighs, at both the scars and freshly made cuts. "How- why? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't- I couldn't- I.. I don't know, really..."
"Did anyone else know?"
Patrick glanced at me and nodded. "P-Patrick knew... He found out while I was in the hospital."
Joe shook his head, tears falling from his face. "This is surreal. Why would you want to do this?"
I looked at him blankly, with tears not ceasing to fall. "You would never understand."
