I'll Sing You One Last Song and then I'm Gone (Tokio Hotel Fan-Fic)

Chapter 6

This story is written by @xAnDeinerSeitex She wrote this story on a website called TokioHotelFiction.com. I was able to locate her and found out she had a wattpad account. She has given me permission to post it on here. @xAnDienerSeitex aslo has a new updated version of the story, as seeing this one is a few years old. If you like to read that one click the external link on the side. And I would like to say I have no rights to this story and I am NOT the writer. I would also like to thank @xAnDeinerSeitex for writing this great story and letting me post it on my account.

The situation seemed vaguely familiar. I felt like I was outside myself, seeing it happen like I was watching a movie. Watching. Not living, watching.

A girl of only seventeen sits in her bedroom atop the covers on her bed. Her legs are pulled to her chest, and she hugs them tightly, occasionally dropping her head down onto her knees. A storm of tears pours from her dark green eyes, mixing with her makeup as they passed, and they ran off onto her light blue jeans. She rocks herself back and forth, seeking the solace she knows isn't going to come for at least a few more minutes, which would be the moment when the whole world, save for her radio, went silent. Her chest shudders with each jagged breath she takes. She's terrified and disgusted, but there's nothing she can do. In the next room over, two older-sounding voices, one male and one female, compete for volume, and each sentence they yell at each other gets louder than their last. Insults are flung and words are used carelessly. The man's slurred speech gives off every needed hint that he's a step beyond intoxicated. The woman, though, is clearly sober, but tired-sounding. Her voice is dry and cracks every couple of words, but she stood her ground. They yelped and shrieked about things that didn't matter. The girl wants so badly to remind them to be careful with the words they're using, since words can very well be mankind's most powerful weapon.

"Gas and blood is all I've got. In you, I trust. The final exit's passing by. The wheels run free under me - its you I feel. A million sparks are falling down. I turn the wheel around. Kiss me goodbye, into the light. Like a phantomrider, I'm dying tonight. So dark and cold, I'll drive alone. Like a phantomrider, can't make it all on my own."

Words were sung to her from the small portable stereo system she'd plugged her iPod into, which she almost couldn't hear over the commotion from the room next to hers. The angel who visited her in her sleep was the owner of voice she heard, despite his being nowhere near her. She almost craved him, but couldn't fathom doing anything besides staying there and silently begging whatever god existed, she wasn't sure, to make the yelling stop. The angel's words were heard, but greatly ignored. The girl had other things on her mind.

"No faith," she muttered to herself as her body bounced lightly back and forth, her back hitting the pillows and bouncing her forward until her feet pushed into her mattress and she sprung back to repeat the cycle. "They have no faith. No faith in the world and no faith in each other and no faith in love. They have no faith. No faith at all."

"Promises... I scratched too deep in your empty seat. The sky is turning upside down, I turn the wheel around. Kiss me goodbye, into the light. Like a phantomrider, I'm dying tonight. So dark and cold, I'll drive alone. Like a phantomrider, can't make it all on my own."

No matter how much the broken girl begged for them to stop, they wouldn't. The people on the other side of the wall just continued to scream. It wasn't that they didn't hear her, even if they didn't, but when it boiled down to it, they just didn't care. As long as they were contented by always screaming at each other, each time over something different from a menu of topics to pick each other apart over, the girl's feelings never mattered. It didn't matter that she was in her room with the light off, crying. It didn't matter that the walls shook with the deafening sounds. It didn't matter that their yelling was only driving the wedge between the three members of their small family further. It didn't matter that their marriage had been over for a long time, and they held on to it without truly giving it the nurture it needed to be wholesome, for one reason or another. It didn't matter that the girl wished desperately that she were somewhere else at that moment. It didn't matter. It simply didn't matter.