Do you hear the Sirens Calling? (Ben Bruce/Asking Alexandria Fanfic)

Awkward Kitchen Convos

*Trigger Warning* Nothing too major mentions of self harm but if you are easily triggered then I suggest not ready the last bit. Also if anyone ever needs to talk about stuff like self harm and depression, I’m always here. I struggle with them too so I know how it feels and I wont ever judge anyone. xx

Siren’s POV

I woke up and was immediately aware that this was not where I was meant to be. The room was small, had an en suite and a cupboard. It was nothing like the living room I was meant to be temporarily crashing. Then I realised there was someone up against me. Their arm was around my waist. Turning around I expected to see the face of a stranger…but instead I saw Ben. Last night events came rushing back tome and I felt sick to my stomach when I saw that his cheek had bruised. He probably hates me. I lay still for a second going over possible scenarios in my head. They all ended badly. In the end I decided it was best to leave his room and just carry on as normal. So I slid myself out from the bed, gathered my clothes and crept out of my room. From the sounds of things most of the others were already up. I went to Silence’s room and grabbed to clean clothes to put on. Then I went downstairs for breakfast.

Danny’s POV

Siren came down for breakfast alone. I was hoping that Ben would be with her but it look like she woke up before him and snuck out. When Siren sat down I placed a glass of water and some painkillers in front of her. She looked up at me with a grateful smile. Hangovers were the worst. Trust me I would know.

Ben’s POV

I rolled over in the bed. Wait I shouldn’t be able to roll over. I open my eyes and sat up quickly. Siren was gone. A sudden flash of emptiness overcame my body. She had left before I woke up. I got up slowly and made my way down to the kitchen, where she most likely was. I was right there she sat at the table with her back turned towards me. It was only her in the kitchen with me just now, so I padded over in my bare feet towards her. I put my hand on her shoulder, “Morning.” I said. Siren didn’t turn around, she didn’t reply, all she did was shrug my hand off her shoulder. I stood there for a few seconds, thinking. I could hear the guys in the living room; they seemed lively for a morning. Ignoring the noise I sat down in the chair next to Siren. She kept her head facing forward the whole time, her eyes didn’t move but her fingers were drumming an irregular beat on the surface of the table.

Siren’s POV

Oh god, he’s sitting down. Keep calm Siren, head forward, don’t look at him. My hands were the only give away god I was anxious, was he going to hit me back, after all I had slapped him. No Siren, Ben wouldn’t do that. But what if he did. Stop thinking like that not everybody is like Raynor. The thought of Raynor made me shudder. He was one of the only guys I had ever been in a relationship with and he was everything I thought I wanted. Until he showed me his true colours. He was abusive and cruel. Raynor made me feel weak and I hate that feeling.

Ben was still looking at me, I could tell from the corner of my eye. I decided to get the worst over with so I turned to face him. His face was still perfect even with that bruise. God I’m such a bitch when I’m high. Well… I’m a bitch all the time but especially when I’m high. “Its bruised.” I said, nodding my head towards the bruise. He nodded slowly, “It’s not as sore as it looks.” Ben said. I nodded my head as well. This was such an unbelievably awkward conversation.

Ben’s POV

Well at least she was talking to me, even if it was about my bruise. I honestly didn’t mind that she had slapped me. I mean I had been pissed off at the time but she was high, she probably didn’t realise what she was doing until it was too late. We sat there a moment longer in the uncomfortable silence, the Siren got up and walked out of the room.

Siren’s POV

I couldn’t handle it any longer, I got up and tried my best not to run out of the room. I went upstairs and straight into the bathroom. There I fell against the door and let my body slide down until I was sitting with my head between my knees, crying silent tears.

You mess everything up. You don’t deserve Danny or Ben or James or Silence or anyone. You should be alone. You should be dead.

The voices in my head were excruciating. But they were right. They were always right. I hate my life, I hate myself. All I cause is trouble, I’d be better off dead. Everything would be better without me here. It was all to much. I manage to drag myself over to the cupboard and get my bag. I took out one of the Vaseline pots. From the lid I took my razor blade. I ran it across my wrist, watched the beads of blood seep out and then did it again. And again and again and again. Until I ran out of space which could be covered. Then I dragged it on my ankles, the criss-cross pattern of scars around my ankle was soon covered with new cuts.

I don’t know why people romanticise depression or self harm these days. Its hell, its like a disease or an addiction. No matter how many promises I make myself to stop. Something bad happens and I’m at it again. Sometimes I just do it to feel something, because I just feel empty and hollow. The pain reminds me I still feel, I still bleed, I’m still human.