“But now I know my wounds are sewn because of who you are.”
Saviour - Black Veil Brides


Andy finds me in my room, in a similar style to how I’d found Ashley in his. My window open, me sitting on the bench, holding the jar in my hands in my lap, the lighter on the sill, and the wax now cooled around the rim of the jar.

The smoke had long since dissipated, but I couldn’t pull myself away from the window just yet. I spent some time admiring the moon bathing in its sea of stars and I thought about nothing at all.

“All done. You?”

I hold up the jar and give him a small smile. It’s all I can muster right now. I look back out the window, fixing my gaze on the treeline at the far end of my backyard. Every time I look out my window, my eyes go to that spot, half expecting some Slenderman-esque creature to be standing there staring blankly back at me.

“You hid it well, right? My Dad will spazz out if he finds a jar of teeth and nails in the cellar.” I call to him, not tearing my gaze away from the spot where our lawn fades into the trees.

“Yup. Out of sight, out of mind. Now hopefully all of this will be worth it.”

A comfortable silence follows. I tap my fingernails on the lid of the jar, listening to the dull, rhythmless ticking sound it made.

“You still down for that movie?” He asks as he’s taking off his heavily worn boots and tossing them aside.

“Sure... What do you want to watch?”

He shrugs, preoccupied with unlacing the second boot. “I don’t care... You pick. I’d be fine with anything, really.”

“Except the thing I pick, right?” I ask, picking on him. He looks up at me and flashes a grin.

I get up and roll the jar back and forth in my hands, staring down at it, suddenly very happy that I’d gone with a foggier glass on the jars because it makes the contents less obvious. I look around my room for a good place to stow it away, somewhere my Mother wouldn’t find it during one of her nosy searches that she calls ‘cleaning’.

“Where do you think would be a good place to put this?” I ask him. He looks around with me.

“I feel like ‘hidden in plain sight’ would work best in your case.” He says. “Why not disguise it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Slap some unicorn stickers on that sucker and just hide it on your desk amongst your pencil cups and supplies.” He points toward the desk. I look at the spot in question and then down at the jar and sigh. His plan is actually perfect.

“Why do I feel like you did a lot of this growing up?” I ask him in a jokingly accusing tone, pulling open one of my desk drawers to dig around for the cutesy stickers in question.

“I can’t say... But I can loosely admit a yes.”

I pull out a pack of still-sealed cupcake stickers and hold them up for him to approve. “How about these?”

“Perfect. They’re very you.”

“Pssh,” I scoff, peeling open the cellophane. “What does that even mean?”

“You’re into all this pastel, girly crap.” He gestures around my bedroom at all the pink and pastel. “They’re very fitting of your personality.”

“Well, at least I like color.” I retort, reminding him of the bleak, all-black color scheme featured at both his Californian home and his bedroom at his parents’ house.

I pull out the sticker sheet and peel off a few different designs, sticking them in a scattered pattern all over the outside of the jar to make it look like a quirky Pinterest decor item that would be easily overlooked by my Mother who would be busy looking for things will more substance.

“The jars seemed kinda lacking.” Andy admits, watching me from where he sits on the edge of the bed.

“How so?”

“We drop a couple weird items in then sealed them with wax... No special magical stuff? I’m a bit disappointed, to be honest.”

I shrug. “To be honest, it's nice to not be assaulted with magic and all things impossible for once. And we don’t even know if they’ll work, but...” I pause to examine the jar, making sure I’d covered it efficiently with the cute cupcake stickers with kawaii faces. “we can hope that they will. I guess we won’t know until the next possession, will we?”

He purses his lips and shakes his head, watching me as I walk towards my desk and nestle it down behind a cup of mismatched pens near the back, setting a little trinket box on top of it for good measure.

“Does it look inconspicuous?” I wonder out loud, cocking my head to the side to get a better look, trying to figure out if it’s convincing enough.

“Definitely.”

I look at a bit longer and then shrug. I set up my laptop to watch a movie and after screwing around on Youtube for a bit, we finally agree on one to rent and watch. I say ‘agree’ because I kept forcing Andy to participate in the selection process even when he whined that he didn’t know what to watch.

With the opening credits of The Proposal playing on the screen, I turned off my bedroom light and left on the dim little lamp on my nightstand. I make a point to make a nuisance of myself by dragging all the folded blankets up from the end of my bed and swaddling up in them while Andy kept stealing confused glances at me.

“What the hell are you doing?” He finally asks after five minutes of me thrashing around, straightening the blankets over our legs and fluffing pillows. I give him a look. “I’m getting comfortable.” I sneer. He raises his eyebrows, shakes his head, and focuses back on the screen where Ryan Reynolds can be seen being yelled at by Sandra Bullock.

“Well, you certainly are restless.” He retorts and I chuck a wadded up blanket at his face.

“Quit being such a joykill and bundle up. Movie nights are the best with lots of blankets.”

I make it a point to cover up my legs in case the bandage on my right leg, the one closest to Andy, looked to obvious under my pajamas. Once everything is sorted, I lay my head on his shoulder and start to actually pay attention to the movie.

The lead characters’ dynamic relationship brings Ashley’s question back to mind. In the movie, Sandra’s character is pretending to love Ryan’s character so that they will get married and she won’t be deported. She is outright using him and blackmailing him to get her way and to protect herself...

What am I doing to Andy? Is there an angle I’ve been unknowingly working against him that is obvious to everyone else but me? I haven’t meant to come off as using him... I wonder if that’s what Ashley believes. Do I even have the guts to confront him about it?

He’d just give me more of his knowing looks that make me uneasy while he explains the balance of life and death in a tone that would make satanic worshippers cry. His dry, cold, flat tone that he always uses to address me never fails to cause my skin to prickle with fear.

He’s known Andy forever... If he saw something wrong with our relationship, it would only make sense for him to want to tell Andy. But what is so wrong? How am I hurting Andy from Ashley’s perspective?

Furthermore, there is Ashley’s bleak warning. Get out while you can. I know that our relationship is the furthest fucking thing from normal. I get that, but how is it dangerous? Andy doesn’t have superhuman strength or the ability to breathe fire. His abilities could never accidentally hurt me if that is what Ashley is worried about.

Is he just worried about me? Being a teenage girl with no experience of living a real life, I can see how introducing this bizarre thing into the mixture could form a somewhat troubling young adult life. This takes me back to my conversation with Andy last night at the cemetery. He can’t give me anything that a normal lover can. Not his physical presence to show off to friends and family, to take to holidays and on vacation... Not to marry or to have an actual love life with.

The sad reality would be that I could grow up to be a twenty-something with a fucked up, deluded idea of the world. I’d live alone somewhere... But in my mind, I wouldn’t be because he was there and I’d have everything. But to anyone on the outside, they would only see the lonely girl living alone and wasting away, no interest in pursuing the secrets of life and experiencing its adventures because she is so tangled up in this twisted idea that she is not alone.

“Hey, you good?”

Andy leans forward a bit to look back at my face, the side of his face illuminated by the computer screen. I look into his eyes and for the first time since that first night he showed up, I have nothing to say.

His brow pinches in concern. “Ash, are you okay?” He repeats himself.

What the Hell do I say? Do I lie to him and say yes? Or hurt him and say no?...

“Hey-”

He sits up, his face gentle and concerned. As he moved, it pulled down the blanket with him. He reaches out and places his hand on my leg in what is meant to be an endearing, caring gesture, but it only sending me squirming in pain. “Ouch!”

I jerk away from his grip as though he has burned me, and my eyes must be as wide as his while I frantically search his for a sign that he somehow knows.

“What?! What did I do?” He raises his hands in panic, scooting back from me, terror in his eyes that he has harmed me.

Oh for fuck sakes...

“N-Nothing! Nothing, it’s okay, everything is good!” I reply, putting on a smile quickly, hoping to ‘woo’ him back into calmness, but it isn’t working this time because my voice is shaking from the fear that he will find out what I’ve done.

“Then why’d you jerk away?!” He cries back, eyes still wide like he’s just pushed the big red button on a bomb detonation pad that everyone just told him not to and now he’s trying to figure out how to stop the oncoming explosion.

“It’s nothing!” I cry back in panic, trying to be convincing but man, it must be a pathetic scene. We’re here, all tangled up in the blankets, a Ryan Reynold movie playing quietly in the background, and we’re still yelling at each other in terror with saucer eyes and no one knows what’s going on.

A long, heart-pounding silence follows. His terrified gaze is on my face, then flashes to my leg, then back up at my face. I am mentally screaming at myself for not making up an excuse when I had the chance because now I am fucked.

His gaze fluctuates between my face and my leg for another thirty seconds, and as the seconds pass, the surprise seeps away from his expression and he becomes completely calm, while I on the other hand and still staring at him wide-eyed, trying to read him and figure out if he is going to blow up.

He takes a deep breath and now fixes his gaze solely on the spot on my leg where the fabric is raised slightly because of the bandage.

“Let me see it.” He says, his voice calm and not at all angry. Confused, I don’t move. I keep watching his face.

He lifts his eyes to mine. “Ash.” His tone is firm but soft... Enough to inform me that it was not a request, but what I will be doing.

“Andy-” I begin to blubber, the tears streaming down my face now because, despite his calmness, I can see that I have hurt him. I try to get out my apology, but he raises a finger to silence me, looking into my eyes.

“This is no game.” He tells me the way a doctor tells you that smoking is bad for you. “And it is no life to live once you start this, do you understand me?”

I nod, physically unable to form an audible response through my tears. My heart is pounding and I feel faint. It kills me to see that hurt in his eyes, the subtle betrayal evident within his blue irises... That I, the person whom he shared his darkest, most horrible and personal experiences with... Had done the very thing that almost destroyed him.

“Andy- Andy, no, no no I didn’t do this on purpose...” I plead “I had to... For the jar. I swear to God I wouldn’t do it otherwise. I didn’t want to, Andy... Please, I’m sorry!”

“Let’s get you fixed up.” He says ignoring my rambling. He rolls up the pant leg of my pajamas to show off my crappily assembled bandage with medical tape crisscrossing it into place. I watch him fearfully as he peels back the layers and pulls away the bandage, revealing the gnarly cut underneath. It definitely looks worse now.

“Andy-” I attempt again but he shakes his head to silence me, concentrating on my leg. He places his fingers on either side of the cut, the skin glowing an angry red. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply through his nose, exhaling through his mouth.

His mouth turns into a grimace and his fingers push hard against my skin. I would’ve thought it was a purposefully hurtful measure if it weren’t for my skin pulling back together, accompanied by the numbing burn spreading across the affected area.

When he pulls his hands away, he opens his eyes and I am startled to realize that their normally bright blue hue has dulled. He takes another deep breath and shakes his head.

“Are you okay?” I whisper in panic, sitting up straight and grabbing onto his shoulders. He squeezes his eyes shut again like he’s battling a headache before full on just falling backward against the heap of pillows piled up against the headboard.

“Andy?!” I hiss, leaning over him, shaking his shoulders, confused as to what I should do. He has no vitals to check for, there’s nothing to do but stare down at him and assume that he just made himself too tired.

“Oh dammit!”

I leap off my bed and out of my room, scrambling as quickly and as quietly as I can to Ashley’s room at the end of the hall. I throw open the door before, only this time he is reading a book. He meets me with the same confused expression as before.

“What now?!” He groans, chucking the book aside.

“Andy’s collapsed.” I tell him breathlessly, causing him to quirk a brow at me.

“Collapsed? What the hell do you mean collapsed?”

“He went unconscious! I don’t know!”

“What happened before? What was he doing?”

“He used his healing ability on me, and then he passed out.” I explain in a hurry.

Ashley sighs impatiently and sets aside his book, looking me dead in the eyes. “You don’t have to worry about him. He’s gonna be fine.”

“How do you know?”

“He over exhausted himself by healing you... Let him sleep for a bit, he’ll be right as rain tomorrow.”

“Will this happen every time he uses the ability?” I ask in confusion, imagining scenarios where he’d use it for an emergency and go unconscious because of it. It’s not a useful skill to have if you’re passing out every time you use it.

Ashley shakes his head, clasping his gloved hands together cupping them over his exposed knee sticking out of his holey black jeans. “No... He just hasn’t figured out how to control his abilities. Believe me, with some training, he could turn himself into a weapon. He’s strong now, but with some real effort...” He trails off and raises his eyebrows to indicate what I already know.

An unstoppable force of nature.

I take a deep breath, feeling my heartbeat slowing down a bit. This is the second time tonight I’ve barrelled in here like a bat out of Hell, probably scaring the shit out of him.

He thinks for a moment before looking back up at me, “What’d you do to get hurt, anyway?”

I fidget, shifting my weight, now sure how to answer that question to his face. With an uncertain voice and a sheepish expression, I say “I needed the blood for the jar.”

“Enough said.” He says, raising his hands to indicate he got all he needed to know. He’s not being mean or mocking, for once. “Hey... I’m sorry you had to do that.”

“Me, too.” I sigh, patting my leg where the cut had been.

~~~


I woke up before Andy did. I sat up in bed, rolling up the leg of my pajamas to check the cut again. I run my fingertips over the place where hours earlier that awful cuts had been.

I can’t even begin to guess nor imagine how on Earth he is able to the things he does. Wouldn’t someone have to have a drop of God himself in their soul to have abilities such as these? Surely there could be side effects to providing spirits with these things.

Maybe it’s a reward program. The better job you do as a ghost, the better abilities you get. But then again, explain poltergeists.

I look back at Andy, still dead asleep. I lean over and kiss his cheek, pausing to brush his hair off his forehead, looking down at his sweet face fondly before getting up and going to my closet.

Once dressed, I go down to breakfast. My Dad is sipping his coffee at the kitchen island when I walk in, his eyes fixed on the TV watching the news.

“Anything world-shattering happen today?” I ask him as I pull open the fridge and pull out the orange juice.

“No. Just the usual stuff.”

I procrastinate a little longer, but I know I can’t afford to wait until tonight to tell him. When the news goes to commercial break, I clear my throat.

“I’m going to Talia Lake tomorrow with some friends... If that’s okay?”

“Who are these friends?”

“My usual group,” I say and his expression tells me that he knows all who that entails. “and Elizabeth. Since it’s going to be so nice tomorrow, I figured we might as well enjoy it.”

“I think that sounds like a good plan.” He agrees, surprising me a bit. I expected him to plant his feet and say no as soon as he found out the Black Veil Brides crew was tagging along. He still hasn’t quite forgiven them for the Ferguson incident... And I understand why, but it wasn’t their fault.

“You mean you’re okay with it?” I ask in confusion as I put the orange juice back into the fridge.

He shrugs, adjusting his reading glasses and setting down his coffee cup. “I think you need to go some teenager things... Me and your Mother worry that we might be sheltering you too much... As long as you’re being safe and smart, I see no problem with it.”

“What about my choice of company?” I wince, not trying to disappoint him.

“Those boys...” He sighs and thinks for a moment. “I think they’re an alright bunch. I don’t love the fact that you’ll be alone with them, but you’ll have Elizabeth there with you, too.”

“If Elizabeth weren’t going... Would you still be okay with it?” I ask hesitantly, watching his face carefully.

He thinks about it carefully before responding. “I’d be far less okay with it, if that answers your question.”

It doesn’t, really, but he’s being so easy going right now that I don’t want to risk pushing him in the wrong direction.

“Where is Mom?”

“She just went into town to pick up some supplies from the craft store. Just odds and ends.”

“Her client is coming over today for the fitting, right?”

He purses his lips and nods slowly, thoughtfully. “Yeah, I believe so... She was your old teacher, right? What was her name?”

Her name comes to mind right away. It always stuck out to me as a child because of how absurd it was. I fight a smile as I tell him. “Her name was Eden Bloom.”

“Very... Floral sounding...” He says, trying to come off as conversational about it but only sounding awkward trying not to be mean.

“Are you going with Mom to the reception tomorrow? Miss Bloom invited us all to attend.” I tell him.

“Yes, most likely... Will you be back in time?”

“I’ll have CC drop me off. I’ll bring a nice change of clothes.” I shrug. “It should be a pretty fun day, I think.”

I go to the sink to place my cup inside when something catches my eye. To the left of the sink is our mail bin where we stick bills, post-it notes and odds and ends. I notice the top of a white pamphlet sticking out with the words in loving memory of then cut off by the documents in front of it.

I glance back at my Dad and he’s got his back to me, caught up in the TV again, only now he’s changed to the sports network and is very invested in watching the Green Bay Packers play.

I pull out the pamphlet and set it down on the counter, taking in the photo of a younger Andy, all cleaned up for a family occasion, looking really uncomfortable in his forced wardrobe consisting of a light blue polo shirt and khakis. There’s no way in frozen Hell that Andy would ever wear that willingly.

In loving memory of Andrew Dennis Biersack. December 26th, 1999 - April 15th, 2015.

Inside is another photo of him with his band in his normal head-banger attire. They have his life story written out inside, and it’s depressingly short. There’s not much to be seen.

Flipping it back over, I leave it there. My parents must’ve grabbed it at the funeral.

Andy comes into the kitchen, sporting a new look that includes a white t-shirt with capped sleeves that actually isn’t cut or torn all to hell and looks like he wrestled a jaguar in it. I look from him to my father, zipping up my hoodie and checking my back pocket for my phone.

“I think I’m going to head out for a walk, okay?”

“Okay. Be careful.”

“Will do.”

I head for the front door and Andy follows silently. I wait until we have reached the end of my driveway before saying anything.

“Andy, about last night. I know sorry doesn’t even begin to cover what I did, but damn I am so sorry... It was really shitty and you weren’t supposed to know.”

He looks over my neighborhood with unreadable eyes, lighting a cigarette thoughtfully while he cultivates his response.

“I don’t love that you did it, Ash. But I get why you did. I just need you to promise me no more of that shit, okay?”

“I promise, swear on my life.” I hold up my hand. “I’d sooner throw myself into the fiery core of the Earth than do that again.”

This warrants a small chuckle from Andy, earning me a small relieved sigh.

“Well as long as you learned your lesson... Anyway, are we good?”

He looks me dead in the eyes, patient for me to respond. I nod, giving him a sorry smile. “We’re good.”

“Come here.” He pulls my into his chest and hugs my shoulders tightly. “I love you and it’d kill me if anything happened to you. And after all... It’s kinda my job to make sure that you’re not doing that kind of stuff, so...”

“Wouldn’t want you to get fired or something.”

“Right. It’d suck.” he agrees, keeping up with my sarcasm without issue.

We walk along, chatting idly between the two of us. The bridge is three miles from my house, so we have plenty of time to address everything that we haven’t had the chance to yet.

“So what did it feel like?” I ask him. “Do you feel anything when you heal something?”

“I was going to ask you a similar question... How is it today, anyway?” He nods toward my leg.

“It’s fine today. Not even a scar.” I shrug. “I didn’t feel anything, and if I hadn’t been looking down at it as you healed it, I would not have even known that it was happening.”

“To answer your question,” he says, scratching his neck. “Yeah, I feel stuff when I do it. Healing you and healing that gourd were two vastly different things, evidently... I felt my energy waning like when you’re trying to run too many things on one small generator and the lights start to dim-”

“It’s funny you say that,” I interrupt him “because your eyes were a really dull, almost grey shade of blue afterward like it’d just zapped the fuck out of you.”

He nods thoughtfully. “I feel a tingle in my hands as I focus all my energy on it. As I take back the pain and battered flesh and replace it with my own energy, it feels like you’re trying to rip yourself in half and the pain can make it very easy to lose your concentration and screw it up.”

“So you’re in physical pain when you do it?”

He nods, “I imagine that the pain is worse depending on the size and scope of the injury, but just that cut alone felt like dropping a fucking sledgehammer on your toe.”

I frown. “You should probably refrain from using it too much, in case there is dangerous side effects to it.”

“True...”

Notes

Thank you Merelan and Mezzy18 for your comments!