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

Chapter 28

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.

Yesterday afternoon, when I found my way out of the hotel, I would up wandering back across the street to the restaurant my prom-night troupe had our after-party meal at, ordering just a coffee to try to clear my mind, and giving Mum a call. She had been rather excited to hear from me, expecting a full run-down of my night, but I didn't tell her much of anything about the actual prom while we were on the phone. I asked that she come get me from the restaurant, and I would fill her in when we got back home. Slightly wracked by a small case of nerves, as only a mother would be, she rushed down to grab me, and, riddled with pent-up feelings, I broke down in the car before we even pulled into our driveway.

I didn't quite tell her everything, but I told her a lot. Typically, girls don't really tell their mothers when they've lost their virginity, because something about that seemed odd to me. It was my personal life, my private decision, and I didn't think my mistake really needed to be showcased. Instead of that, I explained to her my discomfort with my social situation, how I hated almost everyone I knew and had lost everyone I didn't hate because of it. I whined about how my life had become one big play, directed by someone other than me. I told her about my fight with Ellie, finally, and how, despite her negative side, I worried my one and only friend would never come back to me. She pulled off at the community park not far from my house and ordered me out of the car, only for the sole purpose of grabbing me in a tight hug and letting me cry into her blouse.

Without any hesitation, not worrying if I would be upset with her for it, the first thing she asked as I told her all of this was if I had been taking my anti-depressant medication lately, and I couldn't lie to her and tell her that I had been, because I'm pretty sure she already knew. To be perfectly honest, I couldn't quite recall the last time I popped those little pills of instant-contentment, and maybe that had something to do with all of this, as well. She didn't get mad at me, though, and I think it was because of the waterworks, because she usually got really pissed about it. That day, though, she just held me a little closer and promised to call my old therapist, the one I had before I switched over to the medications to fight my battles for me, to set up an appointment for me when his office opened tomorrow, and I was far too upset to fight her on it. Once I calmed down a little, she loaded me back into the car, and completed the drive home.

I spent the rest of my night hiding out in my bedroom, Tokio Hotel turned up as loud as my stereo would allow me to make it and a paintbrush in hand as I did almost from scratch the project due the next day that I had been neglecting for months. At first, I had a silly idea for it, at the height of my social standing, but now that I was certain that would be changing, I had a completely different idea. It was born when Mum, in an effort to cheer me up, announced that Roger still hadn't found his way home, and, immediately, I saw my picture in my head, the way I always do before I begin a piece. Surrounded by the blissful feeling of music and the aroma of Mum baking chocolate chip cookies to cheer me up, I spilled my emotions into my art, transferring everything I felt into the droplets of paint.

My cartoon was a telling of my life, both past and present, and I no longer had any sort of hesitations about showing it off the following day in school, because my ability to care about much of anything lately had been severely diminished. I was tucked away into the corner of the piece with tears careening down my face, and, on either side, I was flanked by a representation of both Bill and Joey. They both held me in their arms and led me away from the mess going on behind me. Very few things were distinct about this background, which was largely a mess of gray that spewed harsh laughter, but certain key components were clear. The only background person who stuck out was my former best friend, just glaring at me with steam coming out of her ears from her reddened face. I had painted Roger's face onto a horrible monster, roaring with blood dripping from its fangs. Atop his shoulders were two little cartoon people, one of which was crying like I was, whereas the other looked very scared and anxious. Crumpled to the ground at his feet was a deathly thin woman, representing Mum, who had clearly been defeated by this beast.