Wake Me Up When September Ends

Cause If You Don't Stand For Something, You Will Fall For Anything.

Our blissful kiss was broken by the sounds of someone yelling out slut. I looked around, until I realise it was Kellin. He was standing there yelling out slut, and it took me a moment to realise that he was looking directly at me whilst he said it.

“Fuck off Kellin; I am not in the mood for your shit.” I said, boredom spiking my voice. Kellin just chuckled.

“Yeah, we all know what you’re in the mood for. Slut” With that, he walked away. I couldn’t take this any longer. I walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around with a smirk on his facing, a mix of sadness and humour in his eyes. I took one last look at his flawless face, and punched him square in the nose. Red liquid ran down his face and seeped into his mouth.

“That fucking wiped the smirk off your face, didn’t it cunt?” I said, the smirk now painting my freckled face.

Kellin spat blood out onto the floor, and looked at me with a glare of death.

“You are a fucking bitch Adreena. I fucking hate you.” Kellin yelled at the top of his voice, his mouth filling with blood once again.

“Good. You are a fucking asshole, and I can’t believe the answer ‘Yes’ ever crossed my mind, I can’t believe I let myself think for a moment that you have ever changed.” I yelled, once again applauding myself for covering up the flinch that was normally hard to miss in my movement whenever someone said ‘that word’.

Someone came and wrapped their arms around my waist and dragged me away before I could do more damage than what I had already done. I thrashed about, trying to release myself from their grip until I realised it was Austin, and I just broke down.

I broke down because of everything at home. I broke down because of the face that I got called a bitch twice in one day by the same person who also asked me to marry him. I broke down at the fact that I got called a slut. I broke down at the fact that I was such an insecure mess, and I was scared that Austin would leave me because of who I am, and my self-harm. I broke down because I couldn’t self-harm, so I had no other way to take away the pain. I broke down because of everything that had happened in my life.

Once I calmed down Austin let go of me, and I ran. I ran faster than I have ever ran before, I ran out the dirty glass doors that were the entrance of our scummy school. I ran down the uneven pathways outside of the high green fences that marked the boundaries of the hell I lived through everyday 5 days a week and I ran home. I ran home to the beautiful two story house that my rich parents owned. I ran the whole way without stopping until I got to the big red wooden door that let me enter my house. I opened it, finding it empty – nothing unusual considering the fact that it was midday – and bolted for the marble staircase that stood in the middle of the entrance hall, and spiralled up leaving you standing on the second floor of our house.

I glanced at my bedroom door, then the bathroom, then the bedroom again. I walked slowly over to my bedroom door, the salty tears streaming down my now drenched face. I opened the door, waiting for the familiar creek to awaken the sleeping house. I walked over to my bookshelf and looked for the book I needed so desperately.

I scanned the shelves, over and over again, face-palming myself mentally for not remembering where I put it the last time I used it. I scanned the shelves one more time and spotted it; The Withering Rose. I opened up the covering and smiled down on the messy hand-writing that marked the first page; stating who it belonged to.

I flicked to page 21, my lucky number, and watched as the tears dropped into the whole that I had cut out of the book, and stained the stainless steel blades that I kept in there, hidden from the pathetic piece of shit (also known as world) that I live in. It made me happy thought that these single edges could take that all away, and make my wish for darkness come true.