The Boy Across the Street (Brendon Urie)

Chapter 38: Red Tears Forget Fears

Rebecca's POV

*Warning: self harm is talked about in this following chapter.*

We drove back to my house and I could tell he wanted to say something but I got out of the car before it could be said. He just pressed his lips together and gave a nod to my rejection. I just didn't want to hear it. I walked inside and threw my books and jacket on the couch.

I walked up the stairs and into the bathroom. Every step seemed like a more difficult task than it should have been. I locked the bathroom door behind me. I looked in the mirror at my messy hair and smudged makeup due to our swim. I was a disaster. I turned away from the mirror sliding my way down the counter. I sat there with my feet against the tub.

I was a slut. I cheated on my boyfriend with his best friend. Every time I kissed Brendon I was careless to the fact that I was tearing someone's heart apart. I was a terrible human being. Ryan was caring and he never hurt me. He was the one person who was there the most for me.

I went and I stabbed him in the back. I lied to him. I cheated on him. He never even did anything to deserve it. He's always been the sweetest guy on the planet. Me? I am all the worst things in this world. I couldn't even stop myself from throwing myself at someone who has repeatedly hurt me. The one person who has always been there for me and now because of my selfishness, he was gone. This is my fault and I can't even blame anyone else.

I stared at my nail polish while I was scolding myself for my idiotic behavior. I closed my eyes and pushed my head against the counter. "No." I thought. "You're not going to do it anyways." I told myself.

I ignored all input from my self conscience and opened the cabinet behind my back. I pulled out a sharp metal tool. A blade. I held it between my two index fingers with my back against the cabinet again. I had this blade for years now. One. Only one single blade. It had never been used. I almost used it a million times. Most of the time I just stared at it.

I don't even remember how I got it. It's just always been around I guess. I looked at it and thought about how much I've wanted to feel something. ANYTHING. I was tired of doing pointless things that were so meaningless. My life was so meaningless. I just wanted to feel something. I guess it didn't matter if it was physically or mentally anymore.

I blankly looked at the blade and my wrist together. My wrist was so bare and perfect. It had never been opened. I rubbed my finger across my wrist getting a feel of my smooth skin. I picked up the blade inspecting it with my eyes. "Was I gonna do it this time?" I thought to myself. My face was stern and emotionless as I put the blade against my wrist. I didn't press hard enough to break skin. It was just hard enough to feel the cold metal against my pale skin.

I sat there for what seemed like ages. I just wondered if it would really make a difference. Did it really matter? Did anything really matter? Did I really matter? I thought about Ryan. I hurt someone. I would take a million blades to my skin before I would touch a hair on someone else's head. I wasn't me anymore. Maybe this is who I am now. Maybe this is who I'm supposed to be.

To think of the day when someone else's words hurt me. Now, its my own. "It wouldn't matter." I said to myself. "No one would care." I thought. "I'm finally gonna do this." I decided.

I painted the razor across my wrist while red trailed behind it. I pulled the blade away as I watched red tears slip out my skin. I watched as it dripped down my arms. To think that I waited this long for one small cut. One small line. I felt all the tears that were never wept but still my face was blank as I watched my arm being painted with red blood. I wasn't able to comprehend all the pain that was pouring out of me by one simple action.

I zoned out as I continued to stare at the red that was over taking my arm. I heard a muffled voice on the other side of the door but I was too overwhelmed with thoughts to tune into reality. Was I actually feeling something for the first time in years? Should I do it again. I heard knocking or banging but pushed it aside. I picked up the blade looking at it again.

Another cut I shall. I was getting ready to slide the metal against my skin again when the door was busted open. I didn't turn to see who it was. I just continued doing what I was doing. My face was grabbed by warm hands and turned to a new direction. Brendon. His face was full of terror and concern or maybe pain. He was speaking but I couldn't make out what he was saying.

I stared at him blankly, the same look I possessed ever since I walked into this bathroom. Finally I heard, "I can't let you do this Rebecca Violet Guthrie! I can't let you hurt yourself!" He pulled me into a hug and I wrapped my arms around his back as I dropped the blade. "Hurt myself?" I thought. My face became a very confused expression. That cut was probably the least amount of pain I've felt in years.

I sat there as I wondered if he was weeping on my shoulder. Brendon would never let me see him cry. I don't know if they were tears or just fidgeting fears. I sat there and held him incapable of comforting words or fake promises. I sat there confused. Hurt myself? The only hurt or pain I felt was the heart that pumped but didn't bring me life. I had a pulse but wasn't alive. That blood was a reminder that I was still very much alive. For the first time in years I had confirmation that I was living.

Why is that hurting myself? Why is that wrong? He pulled away with red eyes but no signs of tears. "I'll help you through this. Okay?" He said grabbing my hands and getting a better look at the beacon of life that was flowing out of my wrist. It pained him to see I was alive. I still had a confused look on my face as I gave him an unsure nod.

He pulled me off the floor and cleaned me up and bandaged my reminder of my existence, my worth, my life. It was hidden. I looked at the white cloth confused. "It'll heal." He said with a slight smile. What if I didn't want it to heal? What if I wanted a reminder of the first time I felt something? I gave him a slight smile back.

He brought me to my room and sat me on the bed. He went back to the bathroom and I heard a flush. I assumed that was my carver of hope being shoved down the toilet drain. I felt the gauze that was wrapped around my arm with my thumb. He walked back in and sat next to me. He placed an arm around me and the contact made me flinch.

"Brendon, please leave. You're reminding me of what I did to Ryan. That's the worst thing you can do to me right now. I know you want to be there for me or whatever but it's only making things worse." I said truthfully. "I can't leave you alone." He said with a hurt expression on his face. "Leaving would be better than staying. Trust me." I said with emphasis on my last sentence.

He looked ready to kiss me goodbye but decided against it. I silently thanked him for that. He got up and walked towards the door. "Please just... Don't do it again? Please? For me." He asked with his hand on the doorknob. I never did anything for other's. I looked down at the floor remembering how much I hurt everyone around me. This is one thing I can do for someone, even if it makes me feel dead inside. "Okay." I said looking up at him.

He thanked me and made his way out of the room. I looked back at the floor once the door was closed, wishing I was strong enough to let some tears slip. I just wanted to cry, to scream. I wanted to feel something, even if it was pain. I didn't want the pain that I just made up in my head. None of that was real. They were all just lies. All of that was fake. I wanted something that would make me feel completely and utterly destroyed, so maybe I wouldn't feel like I'm lying to myself anymore. I wanted real pain because real happiness didn't exist. Happiness just isn't real. Pain? Pain was as real as it gets.

I once thought that Brendon's presence was happiness but I guess that was a lie too. I wish I believe the lies I fed myself then maybe I would be "happy." Is anyone happy? Think about it. When is the last time you saw someone who was happy? It seemed almost rare maybe nonexistent. Is the myth about happiness actually real? Maybe happiness is just made up in fairy tales for children's minds to be filled with ignorant bliss.

I want to be ignorant. I want to be ignorant to what fear is. I once heard that knowledge is power but I'd rather have happiness than control over meaningless possessions. I don't want the world at my feet. I want a smile on my face. I want to feel love. I've been numbed of everything. Yes, maybe Brendon loves me but I just can't feel it anymore. So if pain is the only feeling that is real. I want to feel it. I want to feel it completely. I want it to give me a reason to end.

I know now that happy endings don't exist, so just please give me an ending.