Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Living in Panic

Could You Leave Me With a Scar

by RyanRossLuver 0 reviews


Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: R - Genres: Angst,Drama - Warnings: [!!] - Published: 2008-01-23 - Updated: 2008-01-24 - 1361 words - Complete

Could you leave me with a scar?
- Missy Higgins

I went straight to the closest doctor’s office, which strangely enough, happened to be my ex-best friends place. I only realised this as I walked into the practice, and her brilliant, but creepy looking smile shone back at me through a picture. I could have easily turned around and walked out the door, and try to find a new place that could help, but a thought crossed my mind. If I stay here, then I am guaranteed that she will help me, because she hates me so. Just then she walked out of her office, and look directly at me, her smile diminishing into a scowl.

“What are you doing here? I thought I made it clear all those years ago that I didn’t want to see you again.”

“Well Alice, you haven’t changed a bit. I thought these past four years could have made a difference with the way you greet your peers, but obviously I was mistaken. Anyway, I’m here to ask for your help. I really need it.” Alice started turning her head away, shaking it in disgust.

“Please, please Alice. I need the help. I have…a problem.” She whipped her head around, and I pulled up one of my sleeves to show her the damage.

“Okay, I’ll help. But this is the last time I’m going to do it.” I just nodded my head, happy that I managed to get help so quickly.

“Besides, whilst I help you, I get to ask you about the past four years of your life. First of all, how is the band going?” she led me into the office she came out of earlier.

“I don’t want to talk about that, or any of them.” The rest of my visit to Alice was a blur. I don’t know what she did, but when I got back to the hotel at 10pm that night, when Panic! were on stage without me, I felt like I wanted to cut, but I fought the urge. Instead, I got my lyrics notebook, and wrote out a poem, that could be used as lyrics, or just a way to vent my frustrations.

The boys clambered back into the hotel around 11pm, by which time I had filled close to my entire lyrics notebook with poems and ideas for songs.

“How do you feel now? Had any urges to umm, harm yourself?” asked Ryan, and I felt as if the spotlight was on me.

“To tell the truth, when I got back around an hour ago, I did feel the need to cut again,” there was a sharp intake of breath from Ryan, and I started to shake a little, “but I didn’t. Instead, I began writing poems and thoughts for lyrics and song titles in my book. Alice prescribed me some anti-depressants, and some gel that will take away all hints of scars, which really stings when I apply it, but I know it will make me better. I want to read you one of my poems. It’s basically about how I’ve felt ever since I started my self-mutilation, and the guy with the eyes, as you can probably guess, is Ryan, but can be interpreted as either Brendon or Jon.” I opened up my book to my favourite poem, a rather dark one, and I read it aloud to the boys:

“Your eyes, chocolate brown, pierce into my heart
Never before had I seen so deep into someone’s soul
I thought trust was mutual in this partnership
But apparently, I was wrong

Never again will I trust someone
Who tells me they know how to make me feel good
But I have my own way to feel something
And it involves myself, alone at night
Nothing in my room but blood stained sheets

The first cut is the deepest, and the hardest to make
But after that, it is easy to continue
Pain so bad, that I finally feel something
Tears prick my eyes, forced back by want
By need, by hope that I can continue,
Before you come home
Before you catch me
Before I make the final cut
The cut into eternity”

“Wow. That’s, uuhh…well I don’t really know what to say about it. Why did you write this?” Brendon asked, incredibly puzzled.

“I personally think that the way to recovery is not through a program to stop the want to do the deed, but to also vent out all want and emotion that goes into the deed in writing. For me, its through poetry. Also, whilst I was writing this, I didn’t have the urge to harm myself once, even though the theme of the poem is about self-inflicted damage.” I replied.

“Plus, I hoped that if I could show you that I was clearly over my problem, you may let me perform tomorrow night.”

“Well, I suppose if it’s okay with everyone else,” I looked at everyone’s faces and they were all nodding at me, “then we will let you back in, on a promise that as soon as this behaviour starts up again, you’re out for an indefinite amount of time.”

“Okay Brendon, I can deal with that. There is one thing though that I’d like to ask. I’d like to make an announcement to the audience at tomorrow’s show, to explain my absence. I just want to know if it’s okay to do so, and I want to show them the…well, you know.”

“Okay, but only if you’re sure you want to do it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll talk at the start of the show, before we truly begin, and I want to show them and tell them how I have come to realise I’ve done wrong, and that it is bad to give in to temptation like this, and that you should deal with problems with friends and family. I also want to tell them the truth about my dad.”

“Okay, we can do that, but I just want to make sure that you know the full extent of what you’re doing. And anyway,” Ryan took my left hand in his, and continued, “Where’s the ring I got for you?” I pulled my hand away, and walked over to my bedroom door. I leant against one side, and took off my hoodie. I stretched my arms above my head, leaning backwards slightly.

“I thought that when you discovered what I’d been doing, you wouldn’t want to be with me anymore. I took the ring off and put it on the table next to your guitar. I thought you would be ashamed of me.”

“I could never be ashamed of you. You’re too beautiful to be ashamed off. Anyway, I saw where you put it; I was mainly asking why you took it off. Here, I’ll put it back on for you.” He slipped the ring onto my middle finger, and kissed where he placed it. Eric, Bartram, Jon and Brendon headed off to their rooms, but Spencer hung around for a bit.

“Em, can I talk to you for a bit? Alone?” I nodded my head, and Ryan brushed my arm as he walked past me into our room.

“Is everything o-?“ My question was cut mid sentenced as Spencer leaned in and kissed me full on the lips. I pushed him away from me, and lifted my hand up to my mouth.

“What was that for?”

“I’m sorry Em. I just had the urge to do that. I don’t know why I did it really…I’m sorry. I hope that doesn’t put anything between us.”

“It’s okay Spence, it just…” I trailed off as I remembered something from my past, which I’d rather not remember. Spencer took hold of my arm, but I broke away and ran off to my room, pushing the door closed behind me, climbing straight into bed without changing into my pyjamas.
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