Be My Saving Grace

Twenty-two

Twenty-two

{ I know that you're in pain, but if we die at the same time does it still scare you? }

"Can we create something beautiful and destroy it?" I whispered to myself, my eyes glued to the boring white ceiling above me. "Nobody knows I dream about it, this is my imagination," I continued, twirling the shiny silver blade between my fingertips.

"Tone? Is that you?" Vic's voice called from the doorway.

Fuck, I knew the studio wasn't a good place to hide, but it was all I could think of at the time. "Yeah," I mumbled, "it's me..."

"Why are you down here so late?" Vic yawned and sat down on the floor next to me, "you do realize it's like three in the morning, right?" He added with a chuckle.

"Mhmm," I hummed in response, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

I felt Vic's eyes on me and I tried my hardest to ignore him. I didn't need to explain myself to him. I didn't need to deal with his judgement. He doesn't understand me. He doesn't understand what I've gone through. He doesn't understand how I feel.

He's always told me how stupid I am, how dumb it is to take a razor blade to my arms, to take pills so I don't have to feel anymore. He always told me that if I'd didn't stop, I'd be out of the band. But without the band, I'd be dead. Which is why I keep going back to the blade.

But he's not like that with the fans. He constantly tells them how proud he is of them for staying alive, how strong they are, and how much he loves them. He tells them how amazing they are and that he wishes they could see themselves the way he sees them. He tells them that they shouldn't hurt themselves because even if it seems like no one loves them, he does, and he doesn't want them in pain.

It's hard when one of your best friends, whom you'd trust with your life, tells you how disgusting he thinks you are. Sure, I know I shouldn't care what he thinks of me, but it's hard. He's just gotten nastier and nastier as the years have gone by. He wasn't like this in the beginning.

In the beginning, he was supportive and caring. He'd take away my blades and let me cry on his shoulder. He'd flush the pills down the toilet and tell me how much I was needed, and wanted, and loved. But now, now it was just a gross habit I needed to break. Yeah well, Vic, breathing is a gross habit I needed to break too.

"Is that a blade?" Vic asked suddenly, his voice angry, resentful.

"So what if it's a blade?" I asked, "it's not like I mean anything to you."

"Let me see your arms," he demanded, grabbing my wrists. He sighed in relief when he didn't find anything. "You haven't cut yet, I got here just in time."

I couldn't hold back the cynical laugh that bubbled up from my stomach, "you're so stupid sometimes," I chuckled. "You know that my arms aren't the only places I can cut myself."

"Are you telling me you're cutting again, for real? Damnit Tony! I thought we talked about this!" He snapped, standing up and towering over my still laying form.

I shook my head, "talking doesn't do anything, you know that, it's why Mike hasn't stopped smoking."

"Give me the blade," Vic stated, "now."

"No. It's mine. I don't have to do what you tell me to," I stated, standing up to face Vic. I smirked as I looked down at him, my six foot height easily a good four inches taller than him.

"Fucking give it to me!" Vic yelled at me.

"Why? So you can watch me squirm and itch because I don't have it? Do you like seeing me depressed, Vic? Is that what this is about?" I yelled back at him, my face becoming red with anger and frustration.

"Why do you even do this to yourself?" He sighed, dropping onto the couch, a defeated look overcoming his body.

"I've explained it to you before..." I mumbled, quickly walking out of the basement studio and running up the stairs. I passed the room Grace was staying in, and she was laying on her stomach, without a shirt, soft snores falling from her lips.

I tip toed into her room, and looked down at her sleeping form. The cuts on her back had been stitched shut, and all the dried blood had been washed off. Despite the gore of her back, her face looked so peaceful and calm. I grabbed a light sheet from the hall closet and gently laid it over her before kissing her cheek and heading for my own bed.