Baby Don't Forget, We Haven't Lost It All Yet - Kellic

=EIGHT=

“Kellin! Fuckin answer me! Why the hell did my brother lock himself in his bedroom saying that he fuckin destroyed you?!” (A/N: Btw, that isn’t supposed to be taken in a sexual sense . . .)

“I-I don-“

“No, don’t you dare give me all of that fuckin bull shit that you have no idea what’s going on. You ran out of that fuckin house acting like you were about to lose it, and I left you and my brother alone, drunk, in his fuckin bedroom. What. The. Hell. Happened.” He found out. Vic knows what happed. He knows that we had sex last night, he must know! Oh God, oh God no. When I looked back up at Vic when he yelled at me again to answer him, it was too much. It reminded me too much of different things. I couldn’t take him yelling at me and him being as mad as he was towards me. I probably looked like a coward, but I didn’t care; all I cared about was getting away from Vic, and that’s what I did.

I quickly threw the covers away from me and ran past Vic before he had time to block me. I ran out of the bedroom door and looked for the nearest door. Opening it, not sure what lied behind it, I found myself in a bathroom. Quickly, hearing Vic’s shouting and some other voices witch probably was Gerard and Frank, since I was still in their house, I shut the door and locked it, not wanting anyone to come it. I jumped away from the door and backed away against the bathtub when Vic started beating on the door.  

“Kellin, fuckin let me in and tell me what the hell is wrong with Mike!” No, no, I couldn’t. Why wouldn’t he just leave! I slid down the wall that was in between the sink and the bathroom so I was more or less hidden away from first sight, and I buried my head on my knees while my knees where hugged to my chest, the same position I find myself in often now a days. It was the second third most pathetic thing anyone could do, with self-harming or just any type of self-pain as number 2. And suicide as number 1.

I was pathetic in all three categories.

“Kellin! You fuckin faggot! Get out here now!” Of anything he could have said, he had to say that word; faggot. I’ve been called that name enough times, even before everybody found out the truth, and I’m fuckin sick of it!

“Hay! Vic, what the hell?” That was Gerard’s voice. Did they know each other? Was Vic going to turn them against me and I’ll be completely alone again?

Faggot, look at yourself, locked in another parsons bathroom having a fuckin mental breakdown. That’s what you are. A pathetic, faggot who’s fat and should fuckin kill himself. Try it, I dare you . . .

Paranoia got to me that Vic was going to burst through the door any second to beat me to death. And it was getting too much. Looking, searching the bathroom quickly, my eyes finally landed on a package of a brand new pack of razors lying on the counter beside me. I knew what I needed to do. My eyes looked at them hungrily, like a wolf circling it’s pray.  I wanted them so bad. I wanted to feel the deep friction I felt when it bit into my skin like a rabid animal. I wanted to see the trails of blood it left when the blade was long and gone and all was left was a red line dripping down your wrist like wine going through clear water.

And I needed it now.

“Vic, shut up right now! It’s not even Kellin’s fault! Do you even know the full story?” I knew Gerard was trying to be quite while talking to Vic, but it was quite easy to tell what they were saying seeing as how they were right outside of the bathroom I was locked it. Idiots.

Getting on my knees, I peered over the counter and quickly got the razors like someone was watching me, making sure not to make much noise even though they probably weren’t even listening. Sitting back down cross-legged, I tarred open the package and pulled out a regular orange razor. I needed this now. It was like a drug; and I was addicted.