Darkness Taking Dawn- Lars Ulrich Fanfiction

You Shone Like the Sun

Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Now there's a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
You were caught in the crossfire of childhood and stardom, blown on the steel breeze.
Come on you target for faraway laughter, come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr, and shine!
You reached for the secret too soon, you cried for the moon.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Threatened by shadows at night, and exposed in the light.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Well you wore out your welcome with random precision, rode on the steel breeze.
Come on you raver, you seer of visions, come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine! - Pink Floyd 

I woke up the next finding her sitting on the fire escape sitting down Indian style smoking a cigarette staring out at the road below us as a few cars and trucks speed on the road due to it being so early in the morning. It couldn't have been later than 6:00 A.M. in the morning. She was just sitting there with those blank grey eyes of hers that held almost no emotion as her nicotine cigarette sat loosely between her thin lips. In an odd way at this very moment her plainness made her all the more beautiful. She wasn't anything special. At most she set off red alarms in a persons head to steer away from her, but she was gorgeous to me. Her simplicity and minimalism made her all the more unique to me.

As she heard me approach her head snapped up in slight surprise. Her eyes widened for a quarter of a second then drooped once she realized it was only me. I brushed some loose strands away from my face and asked if I could bum one from her. She shrugged her shoulders then pulled out a pack of Marlboro and tossed a cigarette towards me still without properly regarding my presence.

"Hey, Lars?" Her soft yet raspy voice grasped my interest. I hummed a bit enabling her to know I was paying attention.

She stood up leaned forward on the fire escape while looking down towards the empty sidewalks.

She then ;for the first time so far in our encounters, looked towards me with these somewhat sad looking expression. Even though it was so minuscule you could clearly see the sadness evident in her orbs.

"Do you ever wonder how long the drop is from this far up?" She pondered mindlessly.

I jerked back in surprise and began rambling questioning her if she was to commit suicide. She sighed and pet my hair and slightly but sadly smiled.

"No Lars. I'm fine." She stated as she walked back into the inside of the apartment into the kitchen.

Even back then I felt something was off with her. I never brought it up of course. It wasn't any of my business back then. She always seemed so sad despite the lack of emotion that was always present in her daunting eyes. She almost never looked genuinely happy. It was always so rare to ever see her happy. The concept was almost as if it was always fleeting and such a foreign concept for her.

When I went back inside she sat at the table drinking straight black coffee along with eating a small bowl of cereal.

"You want some?" She mumbled out holding the box close to my face. I shrugged and took it from her hand only for her to quickly retreat out of the kitchen and back towards her bedroom slinging her guitar across her form.

She began to mindlessly strums away on her acoustic guitar. Sh looked dazed and confused. She was really out of it but as far as I knew she was never drunk or high. She was just that preoccupied with herself.

"Hey can I check out the rest of your apartment." She hummed in approval allowing me to go on further with my scouring through her room. Upon further inspection she had a plethora of books, writing materials, along with some art and music paraphernalia. It all was in some way a bit grotesque and morbid. Yet, in all of the horror I was witnessing it was strangely beautiful in its own way. Various books were scattered about in her room along with some obscure comic book posters and the like.

However, out of all the things in the room one thing in particular caught my eyes. It was a rather worn out and pink book. It seemed rather cheerful and light in contrast to the rest of the room, yet upon further inspection it was much gloomier than first expected. It had a single blackened figure standing in the center of the book looking isolated and out of place with the text 'No Longer Human' centered directly below said figure.

As he bent down to inspect the book a bit further a soft yet raspy accented voice sounded from the doorway. "That's my favorite book.", she stated quietly.

I turned towards her with the book still in my grasp.

"Oh, why do you like the book so much?" I questioned.

"I want to be just like the main character." Her eyes were like those of black holes. There was this sort of void emptiness that filled them. Still that look that was always present in her eyes frightened me. They were akin to those of dark shadows that danced at night that seemed to bore into my own.

"Oh, okay."

I didn't really question her on that book that much. She held so much affection towards the book and took it with her almost everywhere, yet she would almost never openly talk about the book to anyone. Not to me and not even to her band mates. It was kinda like this unspoken rule that you don't speak of that book. No one did. Maybe if one of us knew more about that book we could've known what she was referencing when she so casually and nonchalantly stated, "I want to be just like Yōzō."

"Just as I was about to open the book that day she snatched from my hands and hid it from me." I recalled to the interviewer. "I remember whenever I brought up that book to her when we were out she'd always change the subject and act as though the book never existed." I remembered turning my gaze away from the interviewer.

"What other books did she read?" Asked the lady behind the camera. "They were all very obscure. They could be considered morbid by default, but then again so was she. A lot of the music she made was almost always inspired by some comic or book that almost no one knew the name to." I smiled reminicing on the many days I saw her hunched over her small desk with a book open jotting down some lyrics.

Without any doubt in my mind when I think back on Rita she was off. She was rather reclusive and held this sort of social unawareness for those that surrounded her including herself at times. And, while many may like to merely label her as being mentally ill or unstable I knew that she was more than that. She was a stranger, a legend, a martyr, and a prisoner of her own fate and ability. Yet she was also the painter of it as well. I still remember when we were young, and you shone like the sun.