In His Light (Andy Biersack)

Chapter Twenty(Lets Dance)

    She looked strangely familiar, her choppy nest of black hair flying in the air as she fell. I watched him make his way back over to me, his lips parting to form the phrase "I'm sorry", even though my ears were sucking at being ears. I felt his hands slide underneath me, his body carrying my weight to somewhere I couldn't put a name on. Oh, yeah...his car.

    He started the ignition and began driving down the street. I think that had to of been the first time he drove carefully too. I tried to keep my head straight so that I was starring up at the ceiling, but my neck was weaker than my legs at this moment. My head dropped loosely from side to side with every turn, my blood oozing onto the cushions of his car seats.

    My vision was starting to black out in random spots. I couldn't keep my eyes open...and I just felt sick.

"Baby...come on." Andy said softly, picking me back up and then carrying me into his house.

"I need...seat cushions, there's. Blood. A...lot."

"It's okay." He laughed thinly, trying to hide the seriousness of my situation.

    My body met the cold surface of his granite counter and for some reason I couldn't stop thinking about purple lipstick. I flinched again and again, as if my nerves were malfunctioning. I looked around the kitchen, waiting for Andy to comfort me or something. The kitchen was empty though, not a soul insight.

    I could hear the subtle crackling of coffee and I turned my head with a wince at the modern black coffee machine near his stainless steel fridge. I watched it brew the mocha colored liquid, wondering how long it had been running. Andy came back with a huge pile of medical shit in his hand. Oh, God...Oh God, I'm dying.

"Now......hurt....." Was all I heard him say.

    I shook my head with a sweat breaking out onto my forehead. He bit his lip and pulled out a stitching needle, along with the thick black thread that went with it. I screamed when it punctured my skin, feeling his hands quickly moving to sow up my scalp. My eyes were a hurricane of tears.

"Baby, baby..shh." He hushed.

    His arms pulled me up into his chest. I leaned into him, my legs crossed on the counter. I could feel the agony of the stitches trickling down my head. He gave me a few pills and I gladly took them without water. I watched him closely inspect all the cuts and sores that now spotted my body. I couldn't even remember how they had gotten there.

"Tell me what you last remember." Andy said slowly, his thumb stroking a thin cut that ran across my forehead.

"Uh...I..." I fumbled, looking for the memory of tonight.

    He kissed my forehead, a tear falling down his cheek. I could see the guilt in his eyes, as if all of this was because of him. It wasn't. I knew that for a fact. He brushed the tear away with embarrassment, stroking my cheek in the silence.

It came back to me.

    The lights were flashing like strobes of lightning, breaking the heavy blackness with streams of white. Andy had my hand in his. He wanted to take my mind off of everything that had happened earlier. So here we were, at some terrifying gothic assortment of a dance club. Couples grinded around us, raving with their hands high in the smoke filled atmosphere.

   I kept tugging at the dress Andy had picked out for me. It was more like a short piece of fabric that they molded together and called a dress. It barely covered my ass and if I wasn't careful you could see my underwear in the front at any given time.

   Sure enough, Andy had me glued to his hip while he discussed something violent with some random people that happened to know him. He reluctantly let me drift away to the bar to get a drink, and I think I ordered a total of five root beers. I was still a bit on the edge with the fact that I wasn't even legal to be here.

    I felt a body lean over the bar's counter beside me, and to my surprise it was Lauren. Her lips were wearing a dark plumb lipstick, while her large eyes sunk into a smoky shadow. She actually looked really pretty. I didn't know what to say and I didn't really want to talk to her, so I kept to myself and drank down my fifth root beer.

"Really?" She snorted, spotting my sugary beverage.

    I looked blankly at her, not allowing a word to slip out of my lips. I was starting to feel nauseous. I don't do this. She's too unfamiliar. Which makes me extremely uncomfortable.  

"What? Little miss perfect is too good to talk to me?" She pushed on.

    She lit a cigarette and took another swig of whatever drink was in her glass. I felt so tiny standing next to her. Was everyone in this world just horribly intimidating?

"Seriously? You're acting like a bitch, you know. Talk."

"I-uh...erm...hi." I swallowed.

    She let out a loud drunken laugh, her front half bending over to show off how amused she was at my nervousness. Her cigarette almost dropped to the ground, but she luckily clutched it and popped it back into her mouth.

"You know how Andy has all those scars?" She smirked.

    I nodded and took another sip of my root beer. I tangled my hands together in my lap, as I took a seat on one of the stools.

"Well...at first there were just a billion of these little dotted scars marking the shit out of his chest and arms. And when we dated I'd always ask where they came from and he'd just blow me off. I never could let it go so I talked to his mom about it. Turns out his dad used to burn the hell out of him with cigarettes. He used to be terrified of them until he got wasted and tasted one. Then he got hooked."

    I bit my lip, hearing the terrible story. I couldn't put words to the emotions I was feeling. I hated that man. I wanted to watch him endure the most gruesome and agonizing death possible, and that still wouldn't be enough. I chugged the rest of my soda and held the bridge of my nose, not daring to look at her.

"Fucking pathetic right?" She chuckled.

"No. Not really." I shot.

"Oh, hah...really?"

"Sorry-I"

"Want to fight? Let's fight."

    I could feel my skin crawling with the uncertainty of what was going to happen. I cant fight. I can barely talk trash. Where was this coming from anyway? Gosh, she was drunk. Before I could think of a reasonable excuse to cop out, her drink broke across my head, slicing the back of my scalp.

    I stumbled off of the stool and onto my knees, the pain twisting into my nerves. She kicked my chest and floored me to the ground, jumping on top of me to boot stomp the shit out of me. I was crying and wheezing like a maniac. The lights of the club were fading in and out, and soon the time was coming for me to black out.

~~~~~~~~~~

"I remember Lauren beating the crap out of me." I stated weakly.

"I broke her face. You're okay."

"Andy...she's a gir-"

"No. She's a bitch that tried to..."

    He pressed his hands onto the top of his head, walking away from the kitchen. I watched him walk out of the back sliding door, his breathing heavy and furious. Crashing and screaming sounded from outside. He was blowing up. I waited for a while, listening to the symphony of destruction he was creating.

   He walked back in with a cigarette between his lips, stopping his march of anger to stop and stare at me. I felt his hands all of a sudden fit underneath the space of my body, as he carried me back to his room and tucked me in.

"Where are-"

"I'll be right back. Go to sleep." He replied flatly, shutting the door behind him.