Categories > Celebrities > 30 Seconds to Mars > Do Or Die
He couldn’t understand where that call had come from. It seemed insanely personal for a prank and the words had been far too threatening to be a joke. It felt intimate, the words echoing through his very veins and would stay there throughout the day. He couldn’t shake it, that dark and unnerving fear that came with threats. Who would call him out of the blue that way? Sure he’d gotten his share of critics, had a couple of weird fans but the life of an artist- his life- was usually so private and isolated that people hardly knew where he was. He had never had an enemy before and that was exactly what it sounded like on the other end: an enemy, hell bent on something.
He couldn’t tell Abigail about it because then she would go through all kinds of loops to grab a hold of who had done it. He was just going to simply brush it off as some stupid kid willing to go the extra length to unnerve him. That was all it was, nothing more. Nothing to get bent out of shape over. Getting unnerved was a crazy way to let things get to you and doing that would only put him under stress. The last time he was under stress- no he didn’t want to relive that again.
After saying bye to the kids and Abigail he walked on up the stairs towards his attic studio. It was dark up there, shadows flickering on the walls whenever daylight chose to shine in through the small paned window. It was cold too, the coldest part of the house. The heater or air conditioner didn’t circulate up there. Abigail often asked him if he wanted to hole up perhaps in a separate room in the house, she endearingly called the attic his prison. But each time the suggestion came up he didn’t agree.
Jared was in his own isolation now. Dragging through memories that he, otherwise, wouldn’t enjoy to drag through. Dark ones that even Abigail didn’t know about, ones that fluttered with mystery and chimed with pain. He spoke them through each stroke of his brush, each color spot reflected onto the canvas and when people looked up at the works in galleries, appraising the image they saw he wondered if they would do the same if he were to literally bear his soul to them, dig up the demons and show them the true source of the darkness.
A heavy breath escaped him as his eyes lowered to the set of paints that were strewn along his table. There was already a canvas being prepared there in front of him, the colors entwining and creating a darkened path that he knew no one would want to venture down. Where was the light here? Where was the calm? There was nothing but splattered paint that exorcised the ever pressing exposure towards the dark that he would suffer from. He couldn’t bring Abigail down into this and he couldn’t pull his kids into it either. This was his ruinous path and nothing could save him.
Swallowing down harshly he leaned down to lift one of the brushes, gentle whisper of color onto the brush and he touched it to the canvas. Just as he began the stroke a loud bang shuddered from downstairs. His eyes shot towards the attic door, brows creasing as the wonder of who it was came shooting through his mind. His thoughts drifted back towards the call he had just gotten. It was just a single sound, nothing more, nothing at all. But the sound was followed by pounding on the door and Jared walked towards the door, stepping out.
The threat was rising on his skin, his veins shaking with the anxiousness that refused to release him. Jared stepped along the hallway, his eyes turned towards the door. A shadow was there, flash of wide blue eyes, whisper of dark hair falling over his face before a back was turned to the door and steps took him away. Jared waited a moment, swallowing down his nerves as he moved to the door. There were no steps anymore, no sound of a car driving away.
Finally he was at the door, hand reaching cautiously for the knob as he unlocked it and carefully turned it. The feel of it was cold, the touch against his skin steely and akin to the nerves rising from inside of him. Stepping outside, the sweet wind caressed over his face and he wanted to bask in the calm. There was no pounding, there was no fear, there was nothing but him being paranoid. Standing out here was ridiculous. There was no one here. No one with blue eyes and dark hair. No one at his doorstep. He just needed to get back inside, up into the attic and paint.
Turning around to head back inside he stopped dead there in his step. There was a knife stabbed right into the wood of the door, the tip piercing through it, blood smeared around it as if the door itself bore a gaping wound. Jared took a few staggering steps backward, tripping over the last step as a gasp fell from his lips. He landed on his back, eyes widened with fear as he stared at the sight. He couldn’t understand who would do it. Once more his mind reverted back to the phone call. The doors wound, the blood.
Eyes closed as his tongue ran over his lips. Scrambling to get up he reached into the pocket of his coat and held it up to his ear, pressing the speed dial where Abigail’s number was. He waited for the ringing but just when the other end clicked he dropped the phone when he heard steps coming from around him. Brows tensed once more as he stood to his feet, eyes looking around as his heart reached a beat he couldn’t keep down. He wanted to call out but the knife shot through there was like a standing threat in front of his eyes.
He needed to get back inside. Needed to call the police if someone was on his property. He needed to not get involved. This was just a crazed fan, nothing more. His hand lifted and wiped at the sweat that whispered along his skin, stepping hurriedly into the house. Slamming the door shut he pressed his back up against the door, a heavy breath escaping his lips as he tried to get himself to calm down. Rushing towards the phone he lifted it off the hook and called the police, holding the receiver to his ear and telling them that someone was here, on his property and that they had to come quickly.
Sinking down onto his couch he tried to breathe. The past was coming up rapidly in his thoughts and his chest felt like it was constricting. Those dreams he used to have, the darkness of them. His mind was circled with them, with the tiredness that exerted his entire being. He was alone sitting here, eyes closing and openly trying to make himself feel different. There was fear rooted somewhere inside of him, past and present mingling together until the demons showed much more bare than they did on the canvases upstairs.
He just needed to wait. That’s what he told himself over and over, eyes closing as his hand rested on his chest, his heart racing beneath his palm. He couldn’t tell Abigail about this, he couldn’t let her know about the fear crawling there beneath his skin. This had to be dealt with privately, closely, no word getting out at all. Because all it was was a prank. There was no reason at all to get her worked up about something that he wasn’t even sure was enough to worry over.
He just needed a moment. He just needed to wait.
He couldn’t tell Abigail about it because then she would go through all kinds of loops to grab a hold of who had done it. He was just going to simply brush it off as some stupid kid willing to go the extra length to unnerve him. That was all it was, nothing more. Nothing to get bent out of shape over. Getting unnerved was a crazy way to let things get to you and doing that would only put him under stress. The last time he was under stress- no he didn’t want to relive that again.
After saying bye to the kids and Abigail he walked on up the stairs towards his attic studio. It was dark up there, shadows flickering on the walls whenever daylight chose to shine in through the small paned window. It was cold too, the coldest part of the house. The heater or air conditioner didn’t circulate up there. Abigail often asked him if he wanted to hole up perhaps in a separate room in the house, she endearingly called the attic his prison. But each time the suggestion came up he didn’t agree.
Jared was in his own isolation now. Dragging through memories that he, otherwise, wouldn’t enjoy to drag through. Dark ones that even Abigail didn’t know about, ones that fluttered with mystery and chimed with pain. He spoke them through each stroke of his brush, each color spot reflected onto the canvas and when people looked up at the works in galleries, appraising the image they saw he wondered if they would do the same if he were to literally bear his soul to them, dig up the demons and show them the true source of the darkness.
A heavy breath escaped him as his eyes lowered to the set of paints that were strewn along his table. There was already a canvas being prepared there in front of him, the colors entwining and creating a darkened path that he knew no one would want to venture down. Where was the light here? Where was the calm? There was nothing but splattered paint that exorcised the ever pressing exposure towards the dark that he would suffer from. He couldn’t bring Abigail down into this and he couldn’t pull his kids into it either. This was his ruinous path and nothing could save him.
Swallowing down harshly he leaned down to lift one of the brushes, gentle whisper of color onto the brush and he touched it to the canvas. Just as he began the stroke a loud bang shuddered from downstairs. His eyes shot towards the attic door, brows creasing as the wonder of who it was came shooting through his mind. His thoughts drifted back towards the call he had just gotten. It was just a single sound, nothing more, nothing at all. But the sound was followed by pounding on the door and Jared walked towards the door, stepping out.
The threat was rising on his skin, his veins shaking with the anxiousness that refused to release him. Jared stepped along the hallway, his eyes turned towards the door. A shadow was there, flash of wide blue eyes, whisper of dark hair falling over his face before a back was turned to the door and steps took him away. Jared waited a moment, swallowing down his nerves as he moved to the door. There were no steps anymore, no sound of a car driving away.
Finally he was at the door, hand reaching cautiously for the knob as he unlocked it and carefully turned it. The feel of it was cold, the touch against his skin steely and akin to the nerves rising from inside of him. Stepping outside, the sweet wind caressed over his face and he wanted to bask in the calm. There was no pounding, there was no fear, there was nothing but him being paranoid. Standing out here was ridiculous. There was no one here. No one with blue eyes and dark hair. No one at his doorstep. He just needed to get back inside, up into the attic and paint.
Turning around to head back inside he stopped dead there in his step. There was a knife stabbed right into the wood of the door, the tip piercing through it, blood smeared around it as if the door itself bore a gaping wound. Jared took a few staggering steps backward, tripping over the last step as a gasp fell from his lips. He landed on his back, eyes widened with fear as he stared at the sight. He couldn’t understand who would do it. Once more his mind reverted back to the phone call. The doors wound, the blood.
Eyes closed as his tongue ran over his lips. Scrambling to get up he reached into the pocket of his coat and held it up to his ear, pressing the speed dial where Abigail’s number was. He waited for the ringing but just when the other end clicked he dropped the phone when he heard steps coming from around him. Brows tensed once more as he stood to his feet, eyes looking around as his heart reached a beat he couldn’t keep down. He wanted to call out but the knife shot through there was like a standing threat in front of his eyes.
He needed to get back inside. Needed to call the police if someone was on his property. He needed to not get involved. This was just a crazed fan, nothing more. His hand lifted and wiped at the sweat that whispered along his skin, stepping hurriedly into the house. Slamming the door shut he pressed his back up against the door, a heavy breath escaping his lips as he tried to get himself to calm down. Rushing towards the phone he lifted it off the hook and called the police, holding the receiver to his ear and telling them that someone was here, on his property and that they had to come quickly.
Sinking down onto his couch he tried to breathe. The past was coming up rapidly in his thoughts and his chest felt like it was constricting. Those dreams he used to have, the darkness of them. His mind was circled with them, with the tiredness that exerted his entire being. He was alone sitting here, eyes closing and openly trying to make himself feel different. There was fear rooted somewhere inside of him, past and present mingling together until the demons showed much more bare than they did on the canvases upstairs.
He just needed to wait. That’s what he told himself over and over, eyes closing as his hand rested on his chest, his heart racing beneath his palm. He couldn’t tell Abigail about this, he couldn’t let her know about the fear crawling there beneath his skin. This had to be dealt with privately, closely, no word getting out at all. Because all it was was a prank. There was no reason at all to get her worked up about something that he wasn’t even sure was enough to worry over.
He just needed a moment. He just needed to wait.
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