September Sun

Prologue

I lay in the placidity of the dark room around me. My hand drawn upwards,clutching a fist over what once was my heart but now a mangled and tattered vessel tainted with heartbreak. The dried, ridged scars down my left arm itched, fresh and inflamed. A reminder of the disappointment and heartache that had ensued over just a course of two weeks. My only solitude during that time, had been my thoughts and my razor. I hadn't started cutting until this year. I believe that last week counts as the fifth time.

I sat up, black tears tracing their course down my cheeks, stained from the eyeliner that lined my green eyes. Everyone says it gets better. Everyone I've spoken to has managed to tell me that it will clear up in just a few days.In my opinion,that wasn't the case. At this point I don't believe that anything could get worse than it already is. I've managed to lose everyone I care about. Except Raylyn.

Ray... I thought.

I completely forgot. The last time I'd talked to her,she was dealing with a crisis similar to mine, and I had neglected to talk to her, comfort her like she had tried to comfort me.

I leaned over, grabbing the Kindle Fire HD 7 from my nightstand and pushing the power button. The screen lit up in an instant, the Fire logo shimmering faintly, illuminating the dark room around me.

Once on , I adjusted the brightness to its lowest setting and began scrolling through the long library of apps until I reached Facebook. I clicked on it. I entered my login information and waited as the circle underneath the logo kept spinning, signifying my login.

The familiar mass of news feed began piling down the screen.I glanced over at the chat to see who was online. Sure enough, there was a little green dot next to Raylyn's name, showing she was clearly active.

And always,right above hers was Moises...

My heart pained as I noticed another little green dot show up next his name as well. He was ignoring me.

Hesitating at first, I clicked on his picture, which brought me to all of our messages. I scrolled down, looking through every message, every harsh word we'd screamed at each other last night.

Minutes went by, I glanced over at the chat bar again.

Still online.

I sighed, contemplating if talking to him would be the wiser choice.

I started typing.

I glanced over at the chat bar, then as quickly as the little dot appeared, it vanished. My heart snapped.

Every scenario started creeping into my mind.

Was he talking to someone else?
Was he talking to another GIRL?
Has forgot about me?
Does he hate me?
Does he still love me? Is he just hurt?
Will he come back?

All of these questions will be left unanswered, I knew. I didn't need him to answer my questions to know the truth. The reality he no longer needed or wanted me. He dumped me off and left me just like Osvaldo had. Now I was alone.

"Congratu-fucking-lations,Osvaldo." I seethed.

I don't know how he fucking did it, but within just a few weeks, he'd managed to become my friend, only to trick me into thinking he was going to commit suicide if I didn't do exactly what he wanted, then abandon me and tell me that he wanted nothing to do with me if I wasn't his girlfriend. Or he put me on what he called his Kill Switch.

What a goddamn joke.

Because of him, Moises was gone and probably never coming back. That's what scared and angered me most.

I logged out of Facebook, and set my tablet back over on the nightstand to charge. I looked over to the little grey iPod shuffle sitting soundly in its usual spot. I snatched it up and placed each headphone in either ear, flicking it on.

I switch forward, then back a few songs before resting on my favorite, September Sun by Type Of Negative.

I lay back, allowing Peter Steele's hypnotic voice to drown out the knots of panic forming in my stomach.

September sun glowing golden hair
Now keep in mind son she was never there
October's rust bisecting black storm clouds
Only the deaf hear my silent shouts

Yet in the dark still he screams your name
Nights living death with witch rhymes insane
Ten years amassed para toda mi vida?
Lost man in time was his name Peter...

I can't help but wonder if death is what he wanted. In almost every song, he had a verse or a line that revolved around his death, either claiming he wished he was dead or that he was going to die. Well he must have gotten what he wished for because he eventually did die. He'd had a heart attack. Many had claimed it was because he overdosed, or because he was extremely tall, like my dad had told me when he'd first introduced me to the band. I was thirteen at the time.

I remember asking my father in the summer of 2013 how he died. We were both in the car, driving down the highway with Christian Woman blasting through the car.

"Is he still alive?" I asked.

"Who?" He asked

"The singer."

"No, he had a heart attack."

I paused before asking, "How old was he?"

"Forty-eight." He replied solemnly, his calm gaze trained on the road ahead.

I felt my eyebrows knit together in confusion

"Forty freaking eight?"

He nodded, scratching his beard absently.

"But he was young."

"He was tall too. Very tall actually, and extremely tall people or extremely short people usually suffer from heart problems, and end up passing away at a young age."

"Oh..." I said, turning away to face the window beside me. Both of us remained silent, all except for the pulsating beat of drums and electric guitars that rang through the car.

Many admirers of the band were left empty and heartbroken, I'm sure. In almost every Type O Negative video there are at least 20 "R.I.P. Peter Steele" comments near the bottom. Some people even had the audacity to say he'd done it on purpose.

Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't. Nobody will ever know except him. He's the one who did it, or didn't do it. If he did do it on purpose, I could kind of see why he felt that way. Many people who commit suicide feel stuck. It's depressing to know that some people believe death is their only way out of something. Especially somebody like Peter Steele. It's sad to know that they were made to feel so worthless about themselves that they take their own life.

The way someone I love made me feel right now.

I gazed down at the healing scars on my arm.

Love did this, heartbreak did this. Love always leads to heartbreak.

I glanced over at the small navy jewelry box in which I concealed the razor. I sat up, grabbing the box and popping the lid off.

The music became more powerful, the chanting that neither I nor Moises could decifer, became darker and more incessant. I slid the razor in a small line down my wrist without any hesitation, drawing a thin line down the pale flesh. Within a few seconds a line of blood bubbled up from the incision. I did it again and again and again, repeating the process about several times, watching line over line of blood gush up over the skin before putting the razor back in its spot and laying back as the ominous melody drowned out the pangs of regret that had built up inside.

You promised you'd stay, and I promised I'd never cut again. I guess we both made promises we can't keep...