Unbroken (BVB Fanfic)

Poison

Andy
Lola's parents finally came back from the bathroom, her mother's back stiff and straight, hands trembling. Something had changed. Anthony must have noticed my expression and explained. "We passed by the terminal ward," he murmured. "Seeing all of those poor seriously ill people put into perspective exactly how terminal Lola's problem was." I couldn't help being slightly offended by the way he referred to her depression. "Sir, with all due respect, they weren't 'problems'. It was an illness, a horrible disease that makes you see every single little flaw you have, and you can't get away from the little voice in the back of your mind steering you towards every high ledge, every bottle of pills, every shaving blade in the bathroom cabinet. It's poison to your thoughts, cyanide to your dreams, seeping in through the cracks and even when you think you've sealed them as tightly as you can, it's never tight enough. They aren't problems, sir. They're demons." Okay, I was more than a little offended. There was a hush over the ward and I started to apologise when Stacy reached out and put her hand on the side of my face.
"You're what we want," she whispered and I breathed in sharply. "Pardon?" I tried my hardest not to yell "What the fuck?!" in her face. I was freaking out under her touch. She turned red and started stuttering as the atmosphere in the ward returned to normal. "What I mean to say is that, well, you're amazing with words, Andy. Lola used to sing your songs AND your praises!" She laughed somewhat nervously and Anthony nodded seriously. "Andy, would you perform at Lola's funeral? A song you wrote yourself? It's just, our daughter loved them so much and she would- would've," he corrected himself, "loved to hear them one more time." Every time they spoke of her their speech was awkward, quick, as if speaking of her would be the last straw and they'd burst into tears. Every moment of every day, I thought bitterly. At least I hadn't lost a daughter, although I had lost a best friend. I said goodbye to the Smiths and lay awake all night, turning ideas over in my mind. We had so many good memories, but they were all private, and we had so many difficult times that she didn't want anyone else to know. Finding something to write about was the real problem, but one thing stood out in my mind that was important. Our last moments weren't long, and they weren't good, but in a way it was special and I couldn't nor wouldn't forget it for as long as I live.