Band Oneshots!

M Shadows: Nightmare

'He hit me. He kept hitting me. He wouldn't stop! He was supposed to love me... But I guess my boyfriend got bored.
"Stupid slut! You never do what you're told, do you?! I tell you to make me a sandwich, and you don't! I tell you to go shopping, and guess what?! You NEVER do! I tell you to get out of my way or just let me drink but no! I ask to check your phone and you say no! Seems like you're hiding something, you fucking bitch!" He screamed as he kicked me in the stomach.
"Maybe you'll listen to me now... Get out of my fucking house, and while you're at it, why don't you go and kill yourself, you waste of space!" He taunted.
I snivelled and limped up the stairs, in more pain than anyone could imagine. I bent down to find the box hidden under the bed but couldn't find it. That's when I felt something thrown at my back.
"This what you're looking for, you stupid whore?!" He cackled, throwing the box at my back. It held all my little secrets. Shiny, silver, sharp and bloody secrets. "At least you've listened to me... now get out!"
So I did. I took my little black box and ran as fast as I could (in my state) out of that house.
Once I'd found a little alleyway, I broke down. Nobody ever passed through here, and even if they did, they wouldn't stop to ask if I was alright. They wouldn't care.
The pent up rage from letting that asshole treat me like shit hit me like a tonne of bricks. I threw the ugly little box at a graffiti-covered wall and watched it shatter, breaking down at the sound of metal hitting the concrete ground.
I hobbled over to the hideous metal blades and cringed. They were so cold, in every sense of the word, and yet they felt so comforting to me as they drew blood. I picked up a nice, shinny, untarnished friend and held it vertically to my wrist, almost smiling. I wasn't even scared anymore. I was just awaited the sweet call of death.
I didn't hesitate in pulling it up my arm, pressing as hard as possible. I felt the vein pop. I could literally feel the blood pour out of it. It didn't take too long for me to feel faint, crashing to the ground with in seconds of the wound starting to pump out the ruby liquid. My vision started to fade, blacking out slowly in dark patches. The last thing I remember was being picked up and held close to someone, feeling them kiss my forehead and stroke my hair, whispering: "I'm gonna save you."'
Then I woke up to Matt doing exactly what he did that night where he found me in a pool of my own blood. Except this time, he was running a thumb over the ugly, puckered up, red scar running up my arm. It was a constant reminder of all the mistakes and all the beatings. A gentle push to remember all the names he called me. I could never escape that now.
"Same dream?" He asked sadly, and knowingly. I just nodded, too scared and upset to actually speak. "Oh, my dear, it's over. It's been over for two years. He's in prison and you have me to protect you from anyone that wants to hurt you. That includes you..." he promised. You felt yourself start to shake as the first tears began to form at the brims of your bloodshot eyes. That's the same time that you felt yourself being lifted onto Matts lap. You stared at the horrendous mark on your ugly arms and wanted to scream. You fell forwards, face first into a pillow and shrieked at the top of your lungs while your boyfriend played with your hair and rubbed your back. He knew what to do by now, as this was an almost nightly routine.
"Calm down, my love," he breathed down your neck. Slowly, you rose your head from the pillow, only to bury it in his chest as he stroked your hair and drew patterns on your skin. You felt the fear and anger leave you as he calmed you down the same way he did every night.
"Matt, why did I do this...?" You whimpered, like you always did. His answer was always the same.
"You loved him, he didn't know what to do with that. He mistreated you and you took it as normal. He asked you to do it, and you did. You did nothing wrong," he cooed softly.
"Will this ever end?" This was the first time you'd ever asked him that.
"Will what ever end?" He fired back, confused.
"This whole routine. I have the same dreams, I wake up, you comfort me, I scream and ask why, you give me the same answer and then we sleep for the last three hours of the night. I'm tired, Matt," you admitted.
You thought PTSD was only for soldiers once, but now you knew different.
"I don't know... And that's my honest answer, angel. You're getting better, though," he smiled. He was right. Waking up with sweats and screaming didn't happen anymore. And it didn't make you want to die so much. As much as it was slow, it was still progress.
"Matt, I want to be better," you sobbed. He frowned and kissed you gently.
"Oh, my love, I want you to be better too. But we will get there when we get there. I promise it will be over soon," he sighed weakly.
"I love you," you whispered.
"I love you too. And I promise, my darling, that the nightmare will be over soon. Now, please try and sleep for the rest of the night," he smiled. You nodded and snuggled down onto him, pulling the cover over the both of you. "Good night, dearest," he said as he pecked your lips.
"Goodnight, M," you sighed, closing your eyes and falling into a pleasantly dreamless sleep.