|#Wattys2015| HΔNGIN' |Bastille/Dan Smith fanfic|

Prologue

What has this come to? What has the world done? What have I become? All because of words. I'm just a pathetic peice of shit. I know what you're thinking... Words are words and can mean no harm. Yes, that's clearly right.

But no, i'm sorry for being... I don't know, what am I? 'Too sensitive' as my bandmates say. Okay so they support me for some stupid reason, but I don't need them to. I'm completely fine on my own. They shouldn't bother about me, I'm a waste of space and time.

So... How did it come to this?

Honestly, I don't know, everything's a blur right now and I can't think straight. No I am not drunk before anyone asks. I am completely sober, just a little... out of my mind perhaps?

It started when... Oh god I can't remember when! But was it ever different?

Oh wait, it was always like that, I was always like that. Putting myself down all the time, everyone was fed up with it. And I mean seriously fed up. That sparked off a chain reaction.
I piss people off with my pessimism.

None of this matters now anyway, soon life will be nothing but a dream, which will come to it's end. Why am I mentioning this? Because I'm stupid obviously. Shut up Smith! Get on with it!

Yes, get on with it.

Snapping back to reality I inhale a sharp and painful breath, the cold air puncturing my lungs like there's no tomorrow. The rope hangs in front of me, gently swaying back and fourth, waiting for it's victim to go for it. Tears burn my cheek with anger, ashamed of who I am, I can no longer hold in the haunting sobs.

I have to do this. It's for the best. The boys will understand, the fans will understand. They'll move on fast. Short of breath and weakly I stand on the hard wooden chair that was once used as the chair to my desk in which I wrote songs on in my bedroom. That's gone out the window now, no more song writing for me. No more anything for me.

I glance around this small room for the last time. The place I've lived in most of my life. The place I run to, to hide from the world. The bad thing is, I have not got a good excuse or anything for this choice I've made, I'm just messed up. Nothing less, nothing more. Okay probably a lot more but who cares? Exactly.

The cream walls stare at me as does the various furniture and objects surrounding me. They're like an audience, waiting for me to do it. Watching as my already torn heart, shatters, stops, for good.

Just like the rest of the world.

Time to go.

I hold the tight noose with my shaky pale hands as I slip my head though it so its around my neck. I'm ready. Now. Do it.

How did it come to this...

... It actually went this far...

Scrunching my eyes and gritting my teeth in hatred and anger, I kick the chair from my feet and before I know it, the rope cuts into my neck, cutting off all air flow.

This is how it's supposed to be.

An/

okay. Short start, I know, but it'll get better. I hope. And this is just the prologue anyways.

Let me know if you are interested in this story.

Also i'll be happy to read anyone's stories or to chat. Just message me.
This is stupidly up for the Wattys2015 so you can either help me get somewhere with this, or jut read it... or just completely ignore it. sorry.
-Kyle