The Scars Left By My Memories (Brendon Urie fan fiction)

My Backstory

"You're nothing!"

"You're not worth it!"

"Why do you even try?!"

As I tried to sleep these thoughts haunted me. But it wasn't me. Or my Conscience. They were just some things my boyfriend Troy would shout at me as he punched me to the ground and kicked my stomach. But what could I do? What could I say? How could I fight back? I was so weak. And I know what you're probably thinking, "Why don't you just fucking leave him?" Well I can't. If I do I have no place to go. And these dark words would soon take over me. My latest beating was today. I crawled out of bed as Troy flinched. I glared at him and shook my head in disgust as I made my way out of our bedroom and to the bathroom. I turned on the fluorescent light and looked in the small dirty mirror. I brought my index and middle finger to my cut open lip as I flinched from the small sting of pain. I opened the mirror compartment and looked for some cream or something. None. The whole mirror cabinet was full of pills, pills for Troy. Pills he didn't need and he'd only 'needed' them because he's a drug addict. I slammed the cabinet shut and looked at my face. Beaten, ugly, sad, depressed. I used to be so happy, and I thought at the beginning of my relationship with Troy I'd still be happy. Which I was at the beginning, until one fateful night.

"Where have you been?"

I asked as Troy stumbled through the door.

Lipstick on his collar, the smell of perfume and alcohol spilled off of him.

"I-I wasss out chillax."

He replied.

"And you're drunk. And you smell like perfume."

I replied.

"Ssshhhut the fuck up and fuck me."

Troy said forcing himself onto me.

"No."

I said pushing him hard.

He fell back but caught himself.

"Sarah why are you being such a fucking bitch!?"

He spat.

"I'm not. I wasn't out doing who knows what at the bar with who knows who."

I replied.

And that's when it happened. He slapped me. Right in the face. Afterward, I sort of went into a state of shock. I couldn't move. Or speak. Or barely comprehend what was happening.

"Now I said fuck me."

Troy said as he pulled my pants down. 

"No No No!!"

I squealed using as much power as I could to push him away.

But he was too strong. I closed my eyes and began to cry. I didn't want to lose myself like this. Not yet. I wanted the right guy, and to be married. Once he finished he grabbed another beer from the fridge and walked down the hall. I pulled my pants up and began breathing heavily. I began to ball my eyes out. I cried for hours.

"Oh shut the fuck up."

Troy groaned once he came back out to the living room.

I gulped.

"Nobody's gonna save you Sarah. And why would anybody want to?"

Troy said.

I turned away quickly, but back to the current day. Yeah, I'm Sarah. Sarah Bradley. I took a deep breathe as I got Troy's weed and his bong from under the sink and grabbed a lighter. I took a hit. Or two. Or maybe even three. I don't exactly remember how many hits I took. Afterwards, I took out my razor blade and began cutting my thighs. I cut and cut in hopes to take away my pain. Or mentally heal maybe. A few minutes later I cleaned up the monstrosity. I put everything away and stopped my bleeding before going to the kitchen and drinking a beer. Only one though. I didn't wanna become an alcoholic like Troy. As I sat on the couch and began to chug down the cold, tangy liquid, my phone rang. It was Brendon. Brendon has been my best friend ever since we were little. We met at Kindergarten Camp. It was this thing where kindergarteners from all around the state would come together one week in the summer and go on a camping trip. We'd eat snacks, make things, climb, swim, socialize, stuff like that. I had my teacher write down Brendon's address and P.O box I formation for me so I could write to him. We really clicked that summer. And he always wrote back. And we'd meet up all the time as we got older. It was amazing. I smiled as I picked up the phone.

"Hi Brendon, how's tour?"

I asked though my voice was scratchy.

"Tour is great! All the shows are selling out, people are really digging the Death Of A Bachelor Tour. I wish you could come see me perform! It'd be great! But how are you? You sound, sick?"

Brendon questioned.

"Uh yeah, I'm a bit sick, just a cold. But yeah, I'm happy your tour is going so well and maybe some time I can come see you."

I said smiling.

Brendon is a famous singer. His band goes by the name 'Panic! At The Disco'. And they're really good. My favorite song is probably LA Devotee. I dunno.

"Well, I'm gonna get some shut eye. But I'm coming home tomorrow!"

Brendon cheered.

"Yay! I can't wait to see you."

I cheered along.

"I can't wait to see you either. Goodnight."

Brendon said.

"Goodnight."

I smiled.

I hung up the phone and leaned back in the chair. 

"Who was that?"

I heard from the darkness behind me.

Troy.

"N-No one."

I said clenching the phone tightly.

"Don't lie to me Sarah. Who were you on the fucking phone with?"

Troy asked.

I couldn't speak. I was so afraid of him.

"Sarah....don't fucking test me."

He said walking closer.

I gulped.

"Who were you on the phone with you dumb bitch?!"

Tory asked dragging me out of my chair and pushing me against a wall.

"Brendon!"

I screamed pushing him away.

"I told you not to talk to that dumb prick!"

Troy shouted as he slapped me.

My filled with tears and I felt nauseous.

"He's not a d-dumb prick!"

I shouted holding back tears.

"If he's not a dumb prick than how come he hasn't realized that I beat you? How come he didn't knock the door down on a white horse with a sword and come kill me so you can live your perfect happy fucking ever after?"

Tory asked calmly.

"That's not what I want."

I said bluntly.

"Then what the fuck do you want?! Do you wanna disobey me and get beat?! Do you wanna play by the rules and not get beat?! Do you want Brendon?!"

He screamed.

I couldn't the tears back anymore. I began to cry.

"I-I...."

I didn't know what to say. I wanted Brendon but I had a feeling that if I said that Troy would hurt me more. But I didn't want to tell Troy that I wanted him because I didn't. Whether he was gonna beat me or not.