Categories > Celebrities > The Used
Time I Saw The World
6 reviewsOne february, on a vocalist's sixteenth birthday his parents throw him out of house and home. [Song - Stone Sour Zzyzx Rd.]
1Moving
A/N: Okay so it's a bit different for me - doing a fic about the Used and it's like the first songfic I've done in months so I'm not sure what people'll think. Dedicated to Nat, my toxin twin and to Bert McCracken for both having serious parent problems.
Disclaimer: Bert owns his own history and this is just my take on what might have happened. I don't own anything but the idea. The song is Stone Sour's Zzyzx Rd.
Time I Saw the World
I don't know how else to put this.
It's taking me so long to do this.
I'm falling asleep and I can't see straight.
In a house in Utah a boy lies under the sheets of his bed, the room that he wishes he owned blacked out to the point that he can't see the material pressed against his face. All he knows is that he can't take it any longer and the tears staining the bedclothes are not the only reminder. Trace down to his wrists and find where his fingers hide the scars and the bleeding.
My muscles feel like a melee,
My body's curled in a U-shape.
I put on my best, but I'm still afraid.
But he's still so afraid, he's seen what happens to the people who turn their backs and he doesn't know what will happen to him. Waves of insecurity and terror for his shattering future shoot through his whirl winding mind. What else did they expect him to give? He gave his life and his future but he could never give his soul, he was always to rebellious but if they thought they could break him they were wrong.
Propped up by lies and promises
Saving my place as life forgets.
Maybe it's time I saw the world.
Slowly he unravels his tired body from the sheets and sits up, running a hand through his dark hair, hanging down to his shoulders. A rucksack lies by his feet, holding the only things he's ever owned himself all for the kitchen knife hidden under the clothes. That was his mother's and he doubted she would forgive him for taking it but the less his family had against him the better - he had no wish to be hunted down.
I'm only here for a while.
And patience is not my style,
And I'm so tired that I got to go.
Grabbing the bag from where it lies on the floor he makes his choice and with one last glance around the room he knows perfectly even in the dark from nights he'd spent trapped inside those four walls he took the key he'd stolen from the pocket of his shredded jeans and slotted it into the lock. A slight smile lit up his gaunt features as he was rewarded by a satisfying click.
Where am I supposed to hide now?
What am I supposed to do?
Did you really think I wouldn't see this through?
As he slides out of the room he forgets about the floorboard in the hall that creaks and in seconds has woken his parents up. Swearing hard under his breath he suddenly realises that he doesn't have to anymore and with a triumphant spark in his blue eyes he hurls 'Come catch me motherfuckers' at the door at the end of the corridor and sets off at a sprint down the stairs. He knows he has to make everything work if he wants to get out so angering his parents as much as possible is crucial - he may have had a key to his room but never to the front door.
Tell me I should stick around for you.
Tell me I can have it all.
I'm still too tired to care and I got to go.
Dashing into the living room he burst through the door at the other end of the room to the pale he'd never been allowed in - his parent's guest room. If they ever had someone important from church around that's where they would take them and lately had taken to locking him in his room when said important guests appeared for fear they would get critized for their son's appearance. Glancing around the room he grinned manically at seeing all the expensive pottery and as he heard his parents footsteps on the stairs he started to break stuff. Even as they appeared at the doorway his hands were covered in blood and he'd smashed up half of the room.
I get to go home in one week.
But I'm leaving home in three weeks.
They throw me a bone just to pick me dry.
His mother just stared in shock as her son looks at her with malice in his eyes and swings his hand in an arch, spraying blood across the pristine white walls as if to reveal the lies hidden behind them. His father roars in anger and dives for the boy but he just smiles and almost skips out of the way, a grin still plastered across his face. "What you gonna do motherfuckers?" He taunts them as he dashes past his frozen mother and into the living room, dripping a trail of blood. "What ya gonna do?" His father picks himself up from the floor, he's cut his hands and it adds to the blood. "Come here!" He roars to the boy who just laughs "What ya gonna do!" He yells "Call on your fucking god to strike me down?"
I'm following suit and direction.
I crawl up inside for protection.
I'm told what to do and I don't know why.
The man roars again, horrified by the language his son is using a possibly more shocked by his lack of respect for the religion he's been brought up by. But the boy couldn't care, almost giggling at his parent's shock and horror as he jumps up and grabs the light fitting, swinging his lean frame back and forth as he laughs manically. In his mind the lies and the promises are melting like snow in the summer heat and it's sending him over the edge as his life falls apart in front of him. He won't do what anyone tells him again and he doesn't know why the hell he did in the first place.
I'm over existing in limbo
I'm over the myths and placebos
I don't really mind if I just fade away...
He giggles at his father's anger as he carries on swinging and then drops, catlike to the floor. "What ya gonna do!" He almost screams at his parents as his mind begins to die, all the facts it's been brought up on sounding so hollow and so plastic now. He'd been fed lies all his life and this was the end of it and he didn't care what happened next now, he just knew he was free. His mother snaps from the trance first, her eyes dropping to where he son is now crouched, still beaming up at them. "Get back to your room." She tells him so quietly that it could be mistaken for a weird type of calm.
I'm ready to live with my family.
I'm ready to die in obscurity
Cause I'm so tired that I got to go.
He just laughs at her, a glint in his eyes as he stands up, shouldering the pack "Why bitch?" He spits "Why should I?" His father growls at the boy's insult and advances towards him, his left hand poised to deliver the blow that will knock his son into a world of darkness for the rest of the day. But he's ready for it and just as his father is about to strike he grins, vampire-like in the darkness and lashes out with his converse clad foot, catching his father in the stomach and sending him stumbling backwards.
Where am I supposed to hide now?
What am I supposed to do?
You still don't think I'm gonna see this through.
With a grin to light the house he took a look back at what he'd done and ran for the front door. "That's right motherfuckers!" He snarled under his breath as his mother advanced on him, holding the key to the door. "Get out!" She whispered venomously "GET OUT!" She screamed at him as she pushed past him and threw the door open. A rush of cold air flew into the living room as he looked at the open door with joy glinting in his eyes. "Thank you mama." He whispered and it was almost heartfelt as he disappeared into the darkened streets.
Tell me I'm a part of history.
Tell me I can have it all.
I'm still too tired to care and I got to go.
His mother doesn't watch him go, just slams the door shut after him and turns to her husband but before she does her eyes catch the clock on the wall. The fingers had just passed midnight on Bert McCracken's sixteenth birthday.
And I don't really mind if I just fade away...
Disclaimer: Bert owns his own history and this is just my take on what might have happened. I don't own anything but the idea. The song is Stone Sour's Zzyzx Rd.
Time I Saw the World
I don't know how else to put this.
It's taking me so long to do this.
I'm falling asleep and I can't see straight.
In a house in Utah a boy lies under the sheets of his bed, the room that he wishes he owned blacked out to the point that he can't see the material pressed against his face. All he knows is that he can't take it any longer and the tears staining the bedclothes are not the only reminder. Trace down to his wrists and find where his fingers hide the scars and the bleeding.
My muscles feel like a melee,
My body's curled in a U-shape.
I put on my best, but I'm still afraid.
But he's still so afraid, he's seen what happens to the people who turn their backs and he doesn't know what will happen to him. Waves of insecurity and terror for his shattering future shoot through his whirl winding mind. What else did they expect him to give? He gave his life and his future but he could never give his soul, he was always to rebellious but if they thought they could break him they were wrong.
Propped up by lies and promises
Saving my place as life forgets.
Maybe it's time I saw the world.
Slowly he unravels his tired body from the sheets and sits up, running a hand through his dark hair, hanging down to his shoulders. A rucksack lies by his feet, holding the only things he's ever owned himself all for the kitchen knife hidden under the clothes. That was his mother's and he doubted she would forgive him for taking it but the less his family had against him the better - he had no wish to be hunted down.
I'm only here for a while.
And patience is not my style,
And I'm so tired that I got to go.
Grabbing the bag from where it lies on the floor he makes his choice and with one last glance around the room he knows perfectly even in the dark from nights he'd spent trapped inside those four walls he took the key he'd stolen from the pocket of his shredded jeans and slotted it into the lock. A slight smile lit up his gaunt features as he was rewarded by a satisfying click.
Where am I supposed to hide now?
What am I supposed to do?
Did you really think I wouldn't see this through?
As he slides out of the room he forgets about the floorboard in the hall that creaks and in seconds has woken his parents up. Swearing hard under his breath he suddenly realises that he doesn't have to anymore and with a triumphant spark in his blue eyes he hurls 'Come catch me motherfuckers' at the door at the end of the corridor and sets off at a sprint down the stairs. He knows he has to make everything work if he wants to get out so angering his parents as much as possible is crucial - he may have had a key to his room but never to the front door.
Tell me I should stick around for you.
Tell me I can have it all.
I'm still too tired to care and I got to go.
Dashing into the living room he burst through the door at the other end of the room to the pale he'd never been allowed in - his parent's guest room. If they ever had someone important from church around that's where they would take them and lately had taken to locking him in his room when said important guests appeared for fear they would get critized for their son's appearance. Glancing around the room he grinned manically at seeing all the expensive pottery and as he heard his parents footsteps on the stairs he started to break stuff. Even as they appeared at the doorway his hands were covered in blood and he'd smashed up half of the room.
I get to go home in one week.
But I'm leaving home in three weeks.
They throw me a bone just to pick me dry.
His mother just stared in shock as her son looks at her with malice in his eyes and swings his hand in an arch, spraying blood across the pristine white walls as if to reveal the lies hidden behind them. His father roars in anger and dives for the boy but he just smiles and almost skips out of the way, a grin still plastered across his face. "What you gonna do motherfuckers?" He taunts them as he dashes past his frozen mother and into the living room, dripping a trail of blood. "What ya gonna do?" His father picks himself up from the floor, he's cut his hands and it adds to the blood. "Come here!" He roars to the boy who just laughs "What ya gonna do!" He yells "Call on your fucking god to strike me down?"
I'm following suit and direction.
I crawl up inside for protection.
I'm told what to do and I don't know why.
The man roars again, horrified by the language his son is using a possibly more shocked by his lack of respect for the religion he's been brought up by. But the boy couldn't care, almost giggling at his parent's shock and horror as he jumps up and grabs the light fitting, swinging his lean frame back and forth as he laughs manically. In his mind the lies and the promises are melting like snow in the summer heat and it's sending him over the edge as his life falls apart in front of him. He won't do what anyone tells him again and he doesn't know why the hell he did in the first place.
I'm over existing in limbo
I'm over the myths and placebos
I don't really mind if I just fade away...
He giggles at his father's anger as he carries on swinging and then drops, catlike to the floor. "What ya gonna do!" He almost screams at his parents as his mind begins to die, all the facts it's been brought up on sounding so hollow and so plastic now. He'd been fed lies all his life and this was the end of it and he didn't care what happened next now, he just knew he was free. His mother snaps from the trance first, her eyes dropping to where he son is now crouched, still beaming up at them. "Get back to your room." She tells him so quietly that it could be mistaken for a weird type of calm.
I'm ready to live with my family.
I'm ready to die in obscurity
Cause I'm so tired that I got to go.
He just laughs at her, a glint in his eyes as he stands up, shouldering the pack "Why bitch?" He spits "Why should I?" His father growls at the boy's insult and advances towards him, his left hand poised to deliver the blow that will knock his son into a world of darkness for the rest of the day. But he's ready for it and just as his father is about to strike he grins, vampire-like in the darkness and lashes out with his converse clad foot, catching his father in the stomach and sending him stumbling backwards.
Where am I supposed to hide now?
What am I supposed to do?
You still don't think I'm gonna see this through.
With a grin to light the house he took a look back at what he'd done and ran for the front door. "That's right motherfuckers!" He snarled under his breath as his mother advanced on him, holding the key to the door. "Get out!" She whispered venomously "GET OUT!" She screamed at him as she pushed past him and threw the door open. A rush of cold air flew into the living room as he looked at the open door with joy glinting in his eyes. "Thank you mama." He whispered and it was almost heartfelt as he disappeared into the darkened streets.
Tell me I'm a part of history.
Tell me I can have it all.
I'm still too tired to care and I got to go.
His mother doesn't watch him go, just slams the door shut after him and turns to her husband but before she does her eyes catch the clock on the wall. The fingers had just passed midnight on Bert McCracken's sixteenth birthday.
And I don't really mind if I just fade away...
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