Warped (Andy Biersack) {discontinued for now}

Chapter 14

Autumn's POV

I sat there for a moment, stunned at what he had said. He was leaving me. For how long, I did not yet know. I was flustered certainly to say the least.

Tears threatened to come from my eyes. Sadness washed over me like a cold shower. But I wouldn't leave the tub. I felt twinges of anger too. How dare he use me for sex just to soften me up before he throws this shit at me?!

"W-What? How long will you be gone?" I asked, my voice quiet and trembly. The silent tears tickled my cheeks as the trailed off my face. They tasted salty on my lips.

"Five months," he said carefully, as if I were a ticking time bomb ready to explode at the expense of his words.

I sniffed and looked at him. He would know I'm crying now but at this point I didn't care. He reached out and tried to grab my hand but I pulled it away quickly and stood up.

"Don't touch me," I hissed coldly. He looked down.

"I leave in three days. I know I should have told you sooner but I didn't have the heart. I didn't wanna make you sad baby," he spoke in a sad voice. I wasn't falling for it that easily.

My patience was faltering. "How could you leave me to deal with this for five fucking months, Andy! Sure we can talk on the phone and stuff but this is just low, even for you!" I yelled, the sobs evident in my voice.

He stood up to and opened his mouth but I cut him off. "I don't wanna hear it right now. I love you but I need some time to think. I'm going home." My voice was quieter now, but still not quite my indoor voice.

"Wait! You can't leave at this hour. I don't want you to walk home this late. You can sleep in here with me. Please," Andy said. I shook my head.

"No I'll just take the couch. But please leave me alone for tonight. I need some alone time," I replied. Then I walked out to his living room and laid on the couch. I closed my eyes in fits of sobs and cried myself to sleep.

I died that night drowning.

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Kellin's POV

I'm sitting at the island counter in the kitchen eating some cereal when I hear the front door open. A few seconds later Autumn appears in the kitchen and I look up at her.

"Where's Andy?" I asked. Wrong question. She looks down at her feet. He must have told her.

"He told you, didn't he?" I asked in a sympathetic tone. She looks up with a mask of anger covering the sad face underneath.

"You knew?!" she yells, voice slightly quivering. Now it was my turn to look down. The words were at the back of my throat but refused to leave.

I could say nothing. She glared into my soul and threw her jacket to the floor. I was glued into place. She stormed up the stairs and I cringed slightly at the sound of a slamming door.

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Autumn's POV

I slammed my door and twisted the lock. I made my way over to the vanity and looked into the mirror. The girl staring back at me is a stranger. I used to know her but she was no longer me.

I haven't known this girl in the mirror since I was sixteen. She disappeared when mom died. She died with her. She was there. She killed her. It was all my fault. If I was home she would still be alive. They would both still be alive.

The girl in the mirror is the devil's sad excuse for a replacement. She came straight from hell. I'm not so sure she even actually left. This right here is hell. My life is hell.

Stop. You can't think like this. No, keep going. This is good. Go ahead. Carry on. The voices in my fucked up brain are fighting like those scenes with and angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other.

The angel never wins with me. Like I said this girl is a demon sent straight from hell. In hell the demons always win. Demons are the only thing that exists. There are no angels in hell.

I grip my hair in frustration and tug it with my hands. My knees hit the floor and the sobs are choking me. They are a noose around my neck, blocking all air from entering my lungs.

That's the thing about depression. One little thing triggers it all. All the memories, all the pain, all the suffering. It was all coming back and I couldn't stop it. It was like an avalanche falling at top speed down a steep mountain hill. Unstoppable and more powerful than any human could imagine.

This was all my doing. Everything was my fault. If I had stayed home instead of going to that stupid party that night my mom would still be alive. If I didn't call my dad to come and pick me up at one in the morning he would have been with her. I would have been with her.

**FLASHBACK**

"Thanks for bringing me home, dad. I'm so tired and it was getting kinda hectic over there anyways," I said to my father as we stepped out of the car. He nodded as a 'you're welcome' and we walked up the porch steps.

We entered the house and I shouted out "mom we're home" through the house. I got no response. I headed back by the family room. "Mom? Where are you?"

The scene in front of me was unforgettable. There was my mother, beaten and unconscious. Laying on the carpet in a pool of her own blood. There was no doubting she was dead.

A scream tore its way out of my throat and my back hit the wall. I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't do anything but cry and tremble as my dad ran into the room. "Oh my god."

I felt sick. I felt dead inside. I don't remember passing out. Everything after that is a blur. The funeral was no better. Closed casket. Few guests. We had a small family. No friends were invited to see their long gone peer.

**FLASHBACK OVER**

Katherine Bostwick was a ghost. A fading memory. A lost soul. And it was my fault. Everything was my fault.

I wouldn't have fallen into this irreversible depression. I would have a healthy body with no scars and nice curves. I would be normal. A clean slate. I would still be me.

It was an unnoticed routine. The blade snuck its way into my hand. My fingers trembled as I pushed it into my skin. After once again destroying both of my ugly wrists I had collected enough blood to spell out 'it's my fault' on the once-white bathroom wall.

An old bottle of lithium pills were dug out of the back of a drawer. The girl in the mirror smirks evilly through her tears. One pill is taken. Now three. No water, nothing to wash them down.

It didn't matter anymore. So I sat on the floor and poured out the whole bottle. I don't care if I die anymore. Everything wrong was my fault and now so would my own death.

I didn't even write a note. I didn't say goodbye. I didn't say I'm sorry. I just closed my eyes and drifted away, letting the darkness of death cradle me in its waiting arms.