You Saved Me
They Know...
It’s been over an hour, and those guys still haven’t left. I don’t mean to be mean or rude or anything. It’s just . . . I’m scared. I remember the stories mom and dad used to tell me about how my older brother had been kidnapped and killed, not too long after I was born, so they sort of caused this fear I have. Only, it got twisted after a while. I don’t fear people. I fear getting too close to them.
I listen to the conversation between Jayy, Dahvie, and whoever else is here. There are a few people who have British accents, and then five other voices that don’t really have any accent to my ears.
After a few more minutes I hear one get up and walk closer to me, and with a British accent ask, “Katie, darling, are you alright?”
I look up from my self-made cocoon, and gasp when I see Ben Bruce. What the hell is he doing here? I shakily nod, then bury myself further into my cocoon, to hide myself better.
I hear someone sigh next to me, then feel a familiar hand on my back. It’s Dahvie. I quietly sigh again, then ask to be excused, but don’t wait for an answer, before getting up, and making my way for the stairs.
I pause when I hear someone ask, “So, what’s her story anyway?”
“I wish I knew,” I hear Jayy reply.
“I know,” Dahvie says, “At least part of it. She’s afraid to get too close to anyone. She told me they always get hurt when she gets too close.”
“What? That makes no sense,” the deep voice from earlier says.
I don’t bother to listen to the rest before bolting up the stairs, and into my bedroom. I lock the door behind me, and quickly pull out my razorblade. Hello, old friend.
Slowly I slide down the door, until I’m sitting on the floor with my back resting against it. I then take the razorblade out of the cardboard, and roll up my sleeves. I place the blade to my skin, and make a small cut across my wrist. I move down a little bit, and make a slightly deeper gash, continuing this until there’s blood covering my arm.
I take the blade in my other hand, and then carve into my other arm “We stitch these wounds”, and go wash up. Once I’m out of the shower, I get dressed, and curl up under the blankets. I can feel my panic reaching a higher level, and just break down.
I pull one of the pillows to my face, and sob uncontrollably into the plush, white pillow. This is a panic attack. The one I’ve been holding back, but I can’t anymore. It’s too much.
After a short time, I hear a small knock on my door, then someone opening it. I bury myself further under the covers, and pray it’s not Dahvie or Jayy coming to check on me. I also pray that if it is, they don’t see my arms, since I haven’t worn a hoodie to bed.
Someone pulls the covers off me in a swift motion, and when I look up, I see Jayy and Dahvie both, looking down at me in shock and horror. Shit. They’ve seen my scar, but not the new wounds.
The scars seem to be enough for Jayy to force me into a sitting position, then pull my arms from my chest. I try to fight against him, but it’s no use. He’s stronger than me.
He looks at my arms, with wide, but sad, eyes, and says, “No more. Promise me, no more of this.”
I can’t look at him as I say, “I can’t promise something like that.”
“Jayy! Dahvie! Where’d ya go?!” someone asked from the hall just outside my bedroom.
“In here,” Dahvie yells back, making me flinch.
My bedroom door opens again, and then I hear someone gasp, and they quickly walk over to the other side of my bed. I feel the bed dip as they sit down, and from the corner of my eye, I see them point to one of my arms. I feel Jayy move my arm to whoever it was, and I flinch when they grab hold of it.
“’We Stitch These Wounds’?” they ask, and I can hear horror in their tone. He then says, “I didn’t write that song to see it carved into someone’s arm, Katie. I wrote it to help people with this problem.”
I gasp, as I finally look up to see, none other, than Andy Biersack. Shit. This is not good. This is not good at all.
He looks me in the eye, his ice blue meeting my blueish-grey, as he says, “No more. You have to stop this. We’ll help you too. Black Veil Brides and Blood on the Dance Floor are here for you, Katie.”
Something about his intense gaze and his caring words, shocks me. No one has ever been willing to help me, unless you count my mom and dad. No one has cared enough to do so. All everyone ever does is say, “You have to stop this” or “Wow, you really are a freak” but no one’s ever cared enough to actually help me stop.
“Were you paying any attention to the idea we pitched about going on tour with you guys?” Andy asked me.
I look over to him again, then nod, and whisper, “Yeah. I did.”
“That’s when we’ll really be able to help, but tonight I need a huge favor,” he tells me.
“What?” I ask, unsure if I want to know.
“I need all your blades. Everything you use to do this to yourself,” he tells me, holding my arms up for me to look at.
My blades? Huh? No. I need them! I think as panic once again swallows me whole. He can’t have my blades. He can’t have them! I need them!
“It’s one of two things, Katie. You give us the blades, or we find them ourselves,” Jayy tells me.
I look over at him, and sigh sadly, then get out of bed, and walk to the desk. When I was unpacking, I placed the blades in various hiding spots. I reach under the desks cutout, where the chair would sit, and pull out 2 that I taped under there. I then walk to the closet, and grab the box of them I hid there. I open it, and place the two inside it, then move around my bedroom gathering them up, and placing them in the box. The only one they can’t have is the one in my cellphone case.
After I got all of them into the box, I pass it to Andy, and he looks in the box. There’s probably about 50 in the box, and he gasp at the sight of so many. He looks up from the box, at me, and says, “This is all of them?”
I nod, but then Dahvie says, “Take the cases off your laptop and phone.”
My eyes widen in horror, but when I make no move to do so, he stands up and grabs my laptop off the desk. He pops the case off, and I look down at the ground. This can’t be happening. He finds the three I’ve taped to the back, and pulls them off, then grabs my cellphone, and repeats the maneuver, finding the other one in there. He walks over to Andy, and tosses my razors in the box with the others, then sits on my bed again.
Damn them. Why do they care so much anyway? It’s not like I’m really related to them or anything. It’s not like they really know me, so they can’t possibly care this much. For me, this is the worst form of torture.
I feel a compulsion of sorts, as I run into the bathroom, and lock myself in. I am not coming out, until they leave, and that’s that. I sigh, as I sit on the floor, and pull my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth.
I sit there for what seems like hours as I wait for the movement in my bedroom to stop. It sounds like they’re doing another search of my room, but I don’t have any more razorblades. They’re all in that damn box that I gave to Andy.
I feel naked. Exposed. No one was ever supposed to know about my habit. I should have been more careful though. So it’s my fault that they found out, just like everything else is my fault.
There’s a knock on the door, and I hear Jayy ask to come in. I sigh, then stand up, and walk out of the bathroom, to my bed again, and curl up in it. I face the wall rather than look at them. Anyway, the only razorblade that Jayy’s going to find in my bathroom is the one I use for my hair, but sure as shit, he brings it out, and I hear it hit the others as he tosses it in the box of razorblades.
“Katie, if you need the razorblade for your hair, come to Dahvie or me. One of us will watch you when you do it though,” Jayy says, and I feel the bed dip next to me, and then a light kiss on my head, as he says, “Get some rest. We’ll be down stairs or just down the hall if you need us for anything.”
I don’t acknowledge any of them, and I hear a collective sigh between Dahvie and Jayy, as they walk out, and close my door behind them. I sit up a moment after I hear the click of the door, and grab my journal from under my mattress.
I pull the fluffy pen from the bedside table’s drawer, along with my headphones, and begin to write and listen to music, until I pass out.
I listen to the conversation between Jayy, Dahvie, and whoever else is here. There are a few people who have British accents, and then five other voices that don’t really have any accent to my ears.
After a few more minutes I hear one get up and walk closer to me, and with a British accent ask, “Katie, darling, are you alright?”
I look up from my self-made cocoon, and gasp when I see Ben Bruce. What the hell is he doing here? I shakily nod, then bury myself further into my cocoon, to hide myself better.
I hear someone sigh next to me, then feel a familiar hand on my back. It’s Dahvie. I quietly sigh again, then ask to be excused, but don’t wait for an answer, before getting up, and making my way for the stairs.
I pause when I hear someone ask, “So, what’s her story anyway?”
“I wish I knew,” I hear Jayy reply.
“I know,” Dahvie says, “At least part of it. She’s afraid to get too close to anyone. She told me they always get hurt when she gets too close.”
“What? That makes no sense,” the deep voice from earlier says.
I don’t bother to listen to the rest before bolting up the stairs, and into my bedroom. I lock the door behind me, and quickly pull out my razorblade. Hello, old friend.
Slowly I slide down the door, until I’m sitting on the floor with my back resting against it. I then take the razorblade out of the cardboard, and roll up my sleeves. I place the blade to my skin, and make a small cut across my wrist. I move down a little bit, and make a slightly deeper gash, continuing this until there’s blood covering my arm.
I take the blade in my other hand, and then carve into my other arm “We stitch these wounds”, and go wash up. Once I’m out of the shower, I get dressed, and curl up under the blankets. I can feel my panic reaching a higher level, and just break down.
I pull one of the pillows to my face, and sob uncontrollably into the plush, white pillow. This is a panic attack. The one I’ve been holding back, but I can’t anymore. It’s too much.
After a short time, I hear a small knock on my door, then someone opening it. I bury myself further under the covers, and pray it’s not Dahvie or Jayy coming to check on me. I also pray that if it is, they don’t see my arms, since I haven’t worn a hoodie to bed.
Someone pulls the covers off me in a swift motion, and when I look up, I see Jayy and Dahvie both, looking down at me in shock and horror. Shit. They’ve seen my scar, but not the new wounds.
The scars seem to be enough for Jayy to force me into a sitting position, then pull my arms from my chest. I try to fight against him, but it’s no use. He’s stronger than me.
He looks at my arms, with wide, but sad, eyes, and says, “No more. Promise me, no more of this.”
I can’t look at him as I say, “I can’t promise something like that.”
“Jayy! Dahvie! Where’d ya go?!” someone asked from the hall just outside my bedroom.
“In here,” Dahvie yells back, making me flinch.
My bedroom door opens again, and then I hear someone gasp, and they quickly walk over to the other side of my bed. I feel the bed dip as they sit down, and from the corner of my eye, I see them point to one of my arms. I feel Jayy move my arm to whoever it was, and I flinch when they grab hold of it.
“’We Stitch These Wounds’?” they ask, and I can hear horror in their tone. He then says, “I didn’t write that song to see it carved into someone’s arm, Katie. I wrote it to help people with this problem.”
I gasp, as I finally look up to see, none other, than Andy Biersack. Shit. This is not good. This is not good at all.
He looks me in the eye, his ice blue meeting my blueish-grey, as he says, “No more. You have to stop this. We’ll help you too. Black Veil Brides and Blood on the Dance Floor are here for you, Katie.”
Something about his intense gaze and his caring words, shocks me. No one has ever been willing to help me, unless you count my mom and dad. No one has cared enough to do so. All everyone ever does is say, “You have to stop this” or “Wow, you really are a freak” but no one’s ever cared enough to actually help me stop.
“Were you paying any attention to the idea we pitched about going on tour with you guys?” Andy asked me.
I look over to him again, then nod, and whisper, “Yeah. I did.”
“That’s when we’ll really be able to help, but tonight I need a huge favor,” he tells me.
“What?” I ask, unsure if I want to know.
“I need all your blades. Everything you use to do this to yourself,” he tells me, holding my arms up for me to look at.
My blades? Huh? No. I need them! I think as panic once again swallows me whole. He can’t have my blades. He can’t have them! I need them!
“It’s one of two things, Katie. You give us the blades, or we find them ourselves,” Jayy tells me.
I look over at him, and sigh sadly, then get out of bed, and walk to the desk. When I was unpacking, I placed the blades in various hiding spots. I reach under the desks cutout, where the chair would sit, and pull out 2 that I taped under there. I then walk to the closet, and grab the box of them I hid there. I open it, and place the two inside it, then move around my bedroom gathering them up, and placing them in the box. The only one they can’t have is the one in my cellphone case.
After I got all of them into the box, I pass it to Andy, and he looks in the box. There’s probably about 50 in the box, and he gasp at the sight of so many. He looks up from the box, at me, and says, “This is all of them?”
I nod, but then Dahvie says, “Take the cases off your laptop and phone.”
My eyes widen in horror, but when I make no move to do so, he stands up and grabs my laptop off the desk. He pops the case off, and I look down at the ground. This can’t be happening. He finds the three I’ve taped to the back, and pulls them off, then grabs my cellphone, and repeats the maneuver, finding the other one in there. He walks over to Andy, and tosses my razors in the box with the others, then sits on my bed again.
Damn them. Why do they care so much anyway? It’s not like I’m really related to them or anything. It’s not like they really know me, so they can’t possibly care this much. For me, this is the worst form of torture.
I feel a compulsion of sorts, as I run into the bathroom, and lock myself in. I am not coming out, until they leave, and that’s that. I sigh, as I sit on the floor, and pull my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth.
I sit there for what seems like hours as I wait for the movement in my bedroom to stop. It sounds like they’re doing another search of my room, but I don’t have any more razorblades. They’re all in that damn box that I gave to Andy.
I feel naked. Exposed. No one was ever supposed to know about my habit. I should have been more careful though. So it’s my fault that they found out, just like everything else is my fault.
There’s a knock on the door, and I hear Jayy ask to come in. I sigh, then stand up, and walk out of the bathroom, to my bed again, and curl up in it. I face the wall rather than look at them. Anyway, the only razorblade that Jayy’s going to find in my bathroom is the one I use for my hair, but sure as shit, he brings it out, and I hear it hit the others as he tosses it in the box of razorblades.
“Katie, if you need the razorblade for your hair, come to Dahvie or me. One of us will watch you when you do it though,” Jayy says, and I feel the bed dip next to me, and then a light kiss on my head, as he says, “Get some rest. We’ll be down stairs or just down the hall if you need us for anything.”
I don’t acknowledge any of them, and I hear a collective sigh between Dahvie and Jayy, as they walk out, and close my door behind them. I sit up a moment after I hear the click of the door, and grab my journal from under my mattress.
I pull the fluffy pen from the bedside table’s drawer, along with my headphones, and begin to write and listen to music, until I pass out.
Heyy i would really love if you could update this story again or let us know whats happening with the sequel!!!
(Ps - this is ur lil sis...)
12/5/15