Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Life Is Full of False Hopes
I woke up in a light sweat, panting slightly. I had a damned nightmare. Well, it could be called a nightmare, but it really was just that fucking image of the car my family was in being destroyed. Watching my mom die with blood all over her, bones sticking out like jagged white knives. Waiting for my sister to wake up on that damned white hospital bed, watching her slowly die. It played over and over again, like a song on repeat. I pulled my legs up to my chest, curling into a ball on the mattress they called a bed.
I wanted to cry, but I couldn't allow myself to let a tear fall. I'm not sure why, but I just couldn't. It felt like, if I allowed myself to cry, then I'd allow myself to slowly forget them. I'd rather bottle up all of my emotions then let myself forget them. And at the same time, I'd do anything to forget that week. I crawled out of bed, going into the washroom slowly. I didn't want to think anymore, it was just to much work.
I avoided my expression in the mirror and practically crawled into the bathtub. I got out a joint, fumbling with the lighter for a moment until I finally manged to get it lit. This was always going to be who I am as a person. Unable to cope with reality, so of course, you have to put your reliance on something. I just happened to put it on drugs. And none of that chemical crap, only the natural stuff. I exhaled slowly, trying to keep my hands as steady as possible. Just waiting for it to kick in.
I don't know how much time passed before it finally did kick in, probably a few minutes, but when it did, I felt numb and my mind was fogged. It's always such an amazing feeling to just forget about everything and let the colors that don't exist above your head swirl. I stared up at the ceiling, slightly more calm. I tried to bring my heavy hand up to my lips, I found it a lot more difficult than it probably should have been, but I still manged to. I took a nice drag, holding it in for about twenty seconds before letting the smoke escape my lips slowly. I watched it drift up the wall, up to the ceiling where it circled the light and then dissipated like all of the bad thoughts I could think of.
I laughed a little, and then a lot, up to the point I couldn't control my laughter while I took another drag. My life was absolutely pathetic, and all I could do was laugh. There was just something comical about my misery. Like people who make dramatic comedy's. And if I was looking at my life through a TV, I would most definitely laugh at it. It was just ironic how it started out being kind of odd, -an outsider in my own family- and then it went towards being terrifying, -watching that damned car crash- after that, it was just pathetic.
I looked at my scarred arms, and then took my shirt off, looking at the clean canvas that was my chest. The things I could do with my chest...amazing. The images of me scarring my chest was beautiful. I let my fingers graze over the skin on my arm, the joint hanging loosely between my lips. I felt so calm as one of my fingers dug into one of my scars slightly, making the pink turn to a slight red. It was beauty at it's finest. There was just something about scars that I absolutely loved. I finished off the joint, putting it out on my ankle, where I always put it out on.
I stayed in the bathtub, sitting and staring at the ceiling, occasionally slowly gazing around the room, laughing lightly as I did so. The world was just so ironic. My eyelids grew heavy, and I allowed them to close so I could fall into a light sleep.
I woke up, an overly groggy feeling overcoming me. I pushed the nausea that started gnawing at my stomach down, I was probably hungry again, and sat up, putting my head in my hands. I rubbed my eyes, pulling my legs close to my chest before looking around the room. I was still in the bathtub of the washroom, the cool porcelain helping to keep my body heat down. Which was good since it was rising from the dream I had. I couldn't remember what it was about, but I guessed it had to do with my family.
I pulled myself to my feet, turning the water on for the shower head before stripping the rest of my clothing off. I reeked of grass. I stepped into the scolding water, taking a quick shower before just allowing my skin to burn under the water until it ran cold. Lindsey was truly an amazing girl, she brought me clean towels, and probably washed most of my clothing yesterday. I wrapped a towel around my waist, avoiding the mirror once again as I exited the washroom.
I dug through my clothing drawer, finding that just about every item of clothing I owned had been destroyed. The shirts and trousers were almost all ripped to shreds. Only a few of them remained unharmed. I sighed as I pulled a few of the undamaged items of clothing out before putting it on. Someone in this house obviously did not want me to be in their house, and to show me just how unhappy they were about it, they were destroying just about everything I owned.
I walked back into the washroom in an attempt to tame my unruly hair, without catching a glimpse of my face. Of course, when you're messing with your hair, it's pretty difficult not to look at your face. I frowned at my reflection, it was the same every time, the only thing that changed was that it got slightly worse. The bags under my eyes growing a shade darker, along with my eyes. My entire face seemed to be pale and chalky. The thought that no one would ever love me once again drifted through my head and my frown was replaced by a neutral expression. Who needed love anyway?
I flopped down on my mattress bed, putting on my headphones before turning on my CD player. I wanted to play violin, but that probably wouldn't be that good of an idea. I had no idea if anyone was home, and if they were, I could get the same treatment as my clothing. Not that I already pretty much was being treated the same. I was locked in a dark room that I couldn't go out of other than my window, and I was the only person that cared about both myself, and my clothing. So instead of playing something, I decided to write. After an hour of scribbling notes into my old beaten up notebook, I looked it over until I noticed the little picture I had drawn in the corner of the page. It was a familiar looking pair of eyes. I tried to remember where I had seen them before, but I was struggling to remember much of anything.
There was a noise over by the door to my room, and I couldn't resist looking up at it. The door opened, and in walked my cousin and a few of his friends. I didn't make a sound as I put my notebook down and looked at my lap, not wanting to meet any of their faces.
"Heyyy fag." My cousin spat. I could hear them walking over to me, not that there was that much of a distance from the door to the mattress. I felt hands grip the hood on my sweater, another one going in my hair before yanking me up. I bit my bottom lip, not because it hurt, but because I could feel a certain amount of pleasure flow through me. It was an amazing feeling, and I didn't want them to know just how much I was liking it. I knew they were going to beat me for the hell of it, but I didn't really care. I continued to stare at the floor before I felt one of their fists connect with my jaw, sending a stinging sensation that was oddly pleasurable. My mouth started to bleed, and I just swallowed the blood.
Someone else punched my stomach, another two holding my arms to keep me from doubling over. I tried to think about something else, to remember where I had seen those beautiful brown orbs. Fists and knees attacked me while I focused on those eyes that were burned into my memory. I wanted to see them again. I'd do anything to see them again. Eventually they got bored with beating me, dropping me to the floor without a second thought before walking out of my room. I panted lightly, my chest burning with every breath I took as I tried to prop myself up on my knees and elbows. I had another nauseous feeling, and ended up coughing up blood on the floor. I groaned a little, collapsing on my back. Any attempt I made to move hurt like hell. The worst part was that I was probably going to have to go to school with those jocks and deal with them every. Fucking. Day.
I stayed on my back, my eyes screwed shut as I tried to get my breathing under control. After a few minutes of me still struggling to do much of anything, the door to my room opened and closed silently. I turned my somewhat swollen face to look over, it was one of my cousins friends and he was walking over to me.
"I'm so fucking sorry they did that to you." He said in a quite and slightly girly voice. I opened my eyes, looking over at the boy who hovered over me. He had black hair that he definitely straightened every day, peircing blue eyes, and there was one lip ring threaded to each side of his bottom lip, giving him something close to a snake bite. "Are you okay?" He asked in a worried and rushed tone, still quite and feminine.
"I'm fine." I said in a weak voice. Even I thought I sounded like I was lying to myself. He gave me a sad small smile, pulling out a little towel that he used to wipe some of the blood off my face. He was so nice about it, I had to wonder why he was hanging out with my cousin. I guessed he was one of the two boys who held my arms back to hold me up, he really didn't look like he could hurt anyone. "Why do you hang out with them?" I asked as he tilted my head to the side slightly to get at some blood that had run down my neck.
He gave a light sigh before replying. "I don't know...I guess, we were friends when we were younger and time was simple, but now....now everything's changed. They all became dicks, and before I could start ignoring them to go off on my own, they threatened to beat up anyone who betrayed them. I'm terrified that they'll kill me if I just stop spending time with them." He frowned a little. "I hate them all, I really do. I just wish that things would go back to the way they were." The hurt that filled his voice seemed to rub off onto my own emotions, and I felt pretty bad for him. It's not like he wanted to hang out with those types of people, he just didn't want to stand up for himself. "What's your name?" He asked after a moment of silence.
"Brendon." I said looking at him once again.
"Mine's Andy." I smiled at him.
"Nice to meet you. Anyone who's not a friend of my cousin, is a friend of mine." He laughed a little.
"Ditto. You know what, with you here, I might as well tell them to fuck off." He said with a smile. I shrugged.
"I wouldn't count on me being around here for too much longer." Someone outside of the room called his name, and Andy stood up quickly.
"I'll see you later, kay?" He asked and I nodded. "Great. Bye." He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. With a small sigh, I continued to stay on my back on the floor, not having the energy or motivation to get up.
~~~~~
Thanks to Katrina_Adams, rkeeler, and PartyPoison for reviewing the past few chapters. I'm glad you like it, and I'll update it when I have time. (As always.) I really do love this story, and I have big plans for it. So, ya know, be prepared, because the first like, ten chapters will all just be teasers of what's going to come.
-xoxo Pansy.
I wanted to cry, but I couldn't allow myself to let a tear fall. I'm not sure why, but I just couldn't. It felt like, if I allowed myself to cry, then I'd allow myself to slowly forget them. I'd rather bottle up all of my emotions then let myself forget them. And at the same time, I'd do anything to forget that week. I crawled out of bed, going into the washroom slowly. I didn't want to think anymore, it was just to much work.
I avoided my expression in the mirror and practically crawled into the bathtub. I got out a joint, fumbling with the lighter for a moment until I finally manged to get it lit. This was always going to be who I am as a person. Unable to cope with reality, so of course, you have to put your reliance on something. I just happened to put it on drugs. And none of that chemical crap, only the natural stuff. I exhaled slowly, trying to keep my hands as steady as possible. Just waiting for it to kick in.
I don't know how much time passed before it finally did kick in, probably a few minutes, but when it did, I felt numb and my mind was fogged. It's always such an amazing feeling to just forget about everything and let the colors that don't exist above your head swirl. I stared up at the ceiling, slightly more calm. I tried to bring my heavy hand up to my lips, I found it a lot more difficult than it probably should have been, but I still manged to. I took a nice drag, holding it in for about twenty seconds before letting the smoke escape my lips slowly. I watched it drift up the wall, up to the ceiling where it circled the light and then dissipated like all of the bad thoughts I could think of.
I laughed a little, and then a lot, up to the point I couldn't control my laughter while I took another drag. My life was absolutely pathetic, and all I could do was laugh. There was just something comical about my misery. Like people who make dramatic comedy's. And if I was looking at my life through a TV, I would most definitely laugh at it. It was just ironic how it started out being kind of odd, -an outsider in my own family- and then it went towards being terrifying, -watching that damned car crash- after that, it was just pathetic.
I looked at my scarred arms, and then took my shirt off, looking at the clean canvas that was my chest. The things I could do with my chest...amazing. The images of me scarring my chest was beautiful. I let my fingers graze over the skin on my arm, the joint hanging loosely between my lips. I felt so calm as one of my fingers dug into one of my scars slightly, making the pink turn to a slight red. It was beauty at it's finest. There was just something about scars that I absolutely loved. I finished off the joint, putting it out on my ankle, where I always put it out on.
I stayed in the bathtub, sitting and staring at the ceiling, occasionally slowly gazing around the room, laughing lightly as I did so. The world was just so ironic. My eyelids grew heavy, and I allowed them to close so I could fall into a light sleep.
I woke up, an overly groggy feeling overcoming me. I pushed the nausea that started gnawing at my stomach down, I was probably hungry again, and sat up, putting my head in my hands. I rubbed my eyes, pulling my legs close to my chest before looking around the room. I was still in the bathtub of the washroom, the cool porcelain helping to keep my body heat down. Which was good since it was rising from the dream I had. I couldn't remember what it was about, but I guessed it had to do with my family.
I pulled myself to my feet, turning the water on for the shower head before stripping the rest of my clothing off. I reeked of grass. I stepped into the scolding water, taking a quick shower before just allowing my skin to burn under the water until it ran cold. Lindsey was truly an amazing girl, she brought me clean towels, and probably washed most of my clothing yesterday. I wrapped a towel around my waist, avoiding the mirror once again as I exited the washroom.
I dug through my clothing drawer, finding that just about every item of clothing I owned had been destroyed. The shirts and trousers were almost all ripped to shreds. Only a few of them remained unharmed. I sighed as I pulled a few of the undamaged items of clothing out before putting it on. Someone in this house obviously did not want me to be in their house, and to show me just how unhappy they were about it, they were destroying just about everything I owned.
I walked back into the washroom in an attempt to tame my unruly hair, without catching a glimpse of my face. Of course, when you're messing with your hair, it's pretty difficult not to look at your face. I frowned at my reflection, it was the same every time, the only thing that changed was that it got slightly worse. The bags under my eyes growing a shade darker, along with my eyes. My entire face seemed to be pale and chalky. The thought that no one would ever love me once again drifted through my head and my frown was replaced by a neutral expression. Who needed love anyway?
I flopped down on my mattress bed, putting on my headphones before turning on my CD player. I wanted to play violin, but that probably wouldn't be that good of an idea. I had no idea if anyone was home, and if they were, I could get the same treatment as my clothing. Not that I already pretty much was being treated the same. I was locked in a dark room that I couldn't go out of other than my window, and I was the only person that cared about both myself, and my clothing. So instead of playing something, I decided to write. After an hour of scribbling notes into my old beaten up notebook, I looked it over until I noticed the little picture I had drawn in the corner of the page. It was a familiar looking pair of eyes. I tried to remember where I had seen them before, but I was struggling to remember much of anything.
There was a noise over by the door to my room, and I couldn't resist looking up at it. The door opened, and in walked my cousin and a few of his friends. I didn't make a sound as I put my notebook down and looked at my lap, not wanting to meet any of their faces.
"Heyyy fag." My cousin spat. I could hear them walking over to me, not that there was that much of a distance from the door to the mattress. I felt hands grip the hood on my sweater, another one going in my hair before yanking me up. I bit my bottom lip, not because it hurt, but because I could feel a certain amount of pleasure flow through me. It was an amazing feeling, and I didn't want them to know just how much I was liking it. I knew they were going to beat me for the hell of it, but I didn't really care. I continued to stare at the floor before I felt one of their fists connect with my jaw, sending a stinging sensation that was oddly pleasurable. My mouth started to bleed, and I just swallowed the blood.
Someone else punched my stomach, another two holding my arms to keep me from doubling over. I tried to think about something else, to remember where I had seen those beautiful brown orbs. Fists and knees attacked me while I focused on those eyes that were burned into my memory. I wanted to see them again. I'd do anything to see them again. Eventually they got bored with beating me, dropping me to the floor without a second thought before walking out of my room. I panted lightly, my chest burning with every breath I took as I tried to prop myself up on my knees and elbows. I had another nauseous feeling, and ended up coughing up blood on the floor. I groaned a little, collapsing on my back. Any attempt I made to move hurt like hell. The worst part was that I was probably going to have to go to school with those jocks and deal with them every. Fucking. Day.
I stayed on my back, my eyes screwed shut as I tried to get my breathing under control. After a few minutes of me still struggling to do much of anything, the door to my room opened and closed silently. I turned my somewhat swollen face to look over, it was one of my cousins friends and he was walking over to me.
"I'm so fucking sorry they did that to you." He said in a quite and slightly girly voice. I opened my eyes, looking over at the boy who hovered over me. He had black hair that he definitely straightened every day, peircing blue eyes, and there was one lip ring threaded to each side of his bottom lip, giving him something close to a snake bite. "Are you okay?" He asked in a worried and rushed tone, still quite and feminine.
"I'm fine." I said in a weak voice. Even I thought I sounded like I was lying to myself. He gave me a sad small smile, pulling out a little towel that he used to wipe some of the blood off my face. He was so nice about it, I had to wonder why he was hanging out with my cousin. I guessed he was one of the two boys who held my arms back to hold me up, he really didn't look like he could hurt anyone. "Why do you hang out with them?" I asked as he tilted my head to the side slightly to get at some blood that had run down my neck.
He gave a light sigh before replying. "I don't know...I guess, we were friends when we were younger and time was simple, but now....now everything's changed. They all became dicks, and before I could start ignoring them to go off on my own, they threatened to beat up anyone who betrayed them. I'm terrified that they'll kill me if I just stop spending time with them." He frowned a little. "I hate them all, I really do. I just wish that things would go back to the way they were." The hurt that filled his voice seemed to rub off onto my own emotions, and I felt pretty bad for him. It's not like he wanted to hang out with those types of people, he just didn't want to stand up for himself. "What's your name?" He asked after a moment of silence.
"Brendon." I said looking at him once again.
"Mine's Andy." I smiled at him.
"Nice to meet you. Anyone who's not a friend of my cousin, is a friend of mine." He laughed a little.
"Ditto. You know what, with you here, I might as well tell them to fuck off." He said with a smile. I shrugged.
"I wouldn't count on me being around here for too much longer." Someone outside of the room called his name, and Andy stood up quickly.
"I'll see you later, kay?" He asked and I nodded. "Great. Bye." He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. With a small sigh, I continued to stay on my back on the floor, not having the energy or motivation to get up.
~~~~~
Thanks to Katrina_Adams, rkeeler, and PartyPoison for reviewing the past few chapters. I'm glad you like it, and I'll update it when I have time. (As always.) I really do love this story, and I have big plans for it. So, ya know, be prepared, because the first like, ten chapters will all just be teasers of what's going to come.
-xoxo Pansy.
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