In The Mourning I'll Rise, In The Mourning I'll Let You Die

I wanted nothing more than to not wake up, but needless to say, I inevitably did.

The rise of the sun and the opening of the eyes were inevitable, a structure of the human routine. I hated it all; I hated remembering that I was just as alive as everyone else, because really, they looked like they had it easy, more than fucking easy in fact.

The loud siren like blares of my alarm clock burst my eardrums at precisely seven in the morning. The thought that initially hit me was the uncontrollable urge to shut the thing off as quickly as my fingers could fumble to do so, but of course, I couldn't quite find the off button in the false sense of security, in the fake bubble of darkness that my eyelids had created for me. I didn't want to leave this semi-permanent, semi coma. I didn't want to wake up, not ever and especially not now.

I pulled my eyelids open, slamming my entire fist down against the off button, yanking it out of the wall in the process and most likely breaking it too, but really, I didn't mind - in fact, I was glad. But, before I could slam the security gates I informally called my eyelids shut, the daylight got me, the sunlight took no hesitation in penetrating my irises, reducing my pupils to the size of pinholes.

It hurt.

"Fuck; I'm alive."

And that was the story of how, on this lovely Friday morning, I woke up.

And simultaneously, the story of how I grew to hate Fridays. I mean, Fridays were usually okay, because Fridays meant the end, the end of the week, the end of something was comforting, because the fact that things seemed to go on forever was horribly daunting and pretty much made me want to through up what little was settling in my stomach.

But this Friday wasn't the end; this Friday was just the beginning. What of? Well, I wasn't exactly sure yet, but considering what I knew about my luck, it couldn't exactly be all that good.

-TRIGGER WARNING-

It stung in the shower; the water turned red, the tiles tinged a weird pink. The room smelled entirely metallic, the stench was sickening in fact. I wanted to wish it all away, but of course I couldn't; I'd gone all too far to consider doing that by now, and part of me was glad to have it there, marks and marks that proved something; they proved that maybe I could accomplish something after all, even if it was petty and awfully self-destructive, an accomplishment was that, an accomplishment.

The scabs pulled and tore under my clothing, blackened pieces of dried blood ripped off my skin. I didn't flinch at the pain, because really I was far too used to all of that now. I wanted to flinch, I think, I think I wanted it to hurt more, I think I deserved to hurt more, and maybe, just maybe, perhaps I was right. Maybe I did just deserve all of this; I was just to selfish to see that.

I changed my shirt a total of three times before it stopped bleeding through. It was disgusting, and maybe scabs did actually have a use after all and I wondered as whether I'd even actually get the blood out of those previously pearly white shirts. I didn't exactly care that much, though; they were just shirts.

And despite all of that, when I caught sight of my draw open, my friends smiling at me from inside, my first instinct was to grab the nearest blade, the sharpest blade, the meanest of my friends. The one with the sharp bite, the bitterest aftertaste, because that meant more; it always meant more when it hurt more and that was a rather simply destroying fact.

But, it was 8:15 and I couldn't, not now. I wanted to desperately, but I couldn't afford to be late for school, not again, not now.

That didn't stop the smallest one finding its way into my pocket and eventually into my jacket pocket as I shut the draw.

Nothing could stop that reflex, not anymore.

I left without breakfast, leaving myself an extra five minutes to ponder and question the fact that I was still far too alive on my forty minute long walk to school without my car. I thought I missed my car, well at least I missed it an awful lot more than I missed the shirts.

-TRIGGER WARNING ENDS-

The walk to school had been moderately successful; I had avoided all trees, leaving my face unaltered as the result of an abundance of fairly painful collisions, however I think I nearly tripped over some poor man's dog - a little Daschund darting throughout my legs far too fast for me to see. Tripping over a dog was hardly something to be proud of, but I certainly preferred it over a head on collision with the unforgiving bark of a tree. Nature was horribly cruel sometimes, but really it was my fault - I'm the clumsy fuck up here. I'm always the mistake, and I think I've more or less just gotten used to that near enough by now.

However, the actual process of being in school was nowhere near as successful, not even moderately. And to put that into context for you, the first thing that happened to me was my head on collision with Jenny, as in Vic's girlfriend Jenny. Fuck. She wasn't a tree, but boy she's fucking close enough. Her overly contoured face isn't far of the bark of one and she looks just as rotten.

"Ugh!" She shrieked, jumping back as soon as her skin touched mine; fucking hell, I'm sure that amount of nail polish is making you the one that's toxic, not me. "Get off me you prick!" She backed away, closer to her lockers, but then her eyes met with mine and she came to realise exactly who she was dealing with. "Kellin Quinn! No! I did not touch you! I don't want to catch emo disease-"

Emo disease? Now, that one was actually ridiculous.

"What the fuck?" The words just fell out, I couldn't quite comprehend appropriate context or even the consequences that would soon come to fuck me over, I was just in an utter state of shock. I was just more of astounded as to what she could possibly know- No, it was just an accusation; she was probably just making a stupid joke about my fringe or whatever, fuck, I don't know - it'd be something hopeless like that, or at least I fucking wished it was.

"Yeah, whatever." She regained her composure. "Get away from me. I don't know why my Vicky is even 'friends' with you - you're a fucking disgusting, fat, ugly, emo, faggot. We never even touched." She flicked her hair from her face all too dramatically. "At least I didn't touch your wrists."

What.

Did.

She.

Just.

Say?

At least I didn't touch your wrists.

I blinked hard, almost willing the words out of reality, and just as I did so, she was gone, but those words most definitely weren't. Those words were important; those words despite their stupid stigma actually meant something, and I think maybe they sliced just as viciously as the blades themselves.

How did she know? How the fuck did she know? The words, the questions, they just couldn't leave my mind. Fuck, who knew how? Did everybody know? Or was this all just an off chance insult? Because if this was a major rumour, I would have surely heard more about it by now- Maybe it was an exclusive rumour, an in gossip of such, but who would make that up? No- who would know? Who the fuck could possibly know? I was Kellin Quinn; I didn't have friends, I didn't talk to people, people didn't talk to me-

Vic Fuentes.

Her boyfriend. Not my friend.

He couldn't have told her! He wouldn't have, but maybe, maybe he had. And maybe that would explain the 'the Kellin Quinn?' the disgust, the glances, the obsessive texting. Had Vic ranted about me to her? Was I a regular topic of conversation between them? Did she just love to laugh in disgust, in horror, in shock at me? Because it was easily to forget, even I liked to forget, that I, I was real too. I felt sick, my guts pouring out as the situation began to realise.

This all made so much sense now, because there was no other way to look at it really; I was just a game, a joke, a mess, something to point and laugh at. Vic didn't care, and the fact that I even considered that he could was simply fucking ridiculous. Why would he even care? No reason, see there's the thing I'm blind to - that I can't just fully see that I'm entirely worthless and everybody fucking knows that.

Except me.

I'm stupid; we should have established this earlier. I was just too stupid to do such a thing, wasn't I?

Did Vic sit there and grin, did he get drunk and laugh and tell stories about me? 'That emo Kellin kid cut again.' She'd laugh and text it around her little clique, and then respond with, 'oh him? Your charity case?' And Vic would smile; Vic would smile and laugh at nod. Because Vic didn't care, not at all. Maybe knowing all this shit about me was just stories and gossip to entertain the likes of Jenny. He cared more about getting laid than my sanity, obviously.

Because I was just his charity case, he hated me just as much as the rest of those lying, filthy, fucking pigs that inhabit this school. My instincts were right - this was quite clearly all a game to him.

And guess who was losing?

Yours truly.

-

And for the first time, I found myself wandering into library, wishing and praying I was in fact jumping into a pit of chlorine right now. My scars didn't matter anymore, because all of them knew, everyone knew; my life was just a hugely overgrown conspiracy. I bet they knew more about myself than I did. Wouldn't that just be, amusing? Surely that'd get a few chuckles, entertain someone maybe? Wouldn't that just be great, because I was slowly coming to realise, that really I was nothing but the freak show.

Maybe I'd smuggle endless amounts of coffee in, and maybe I'd spill them everywhere and get caught doing so, just so I could get booted out of this place. Maybe I even pour the cup of coffee over her and Vic's head simultaneously. Wouldn't that be fun? Coffee is nice; coffee should be everywhere. I think I'd liked to bleed coffee someday- fuck, I sound insane, well fuck, maybe I am? What does it matter anymore anyway?

Vic caught my ravenous glare as I walked in, and immediately dropped the book of Buddhism or whatever the fuck he was reorganising and rushed over to me. He had to keep up that 'I care, Kellin' act, after all - this would be entertaining surely. Maybe I could get my money's worth at the freak show too; the spectators' reactions had to be just interesting as mine.

"What the hell did you say to Jenny?" This was not was I was expecting entirely, but really I should have, because of course, little bitch would be reporting straight back to headquarters, wouldn't she? "Huh?"

For the first time in my life, Vic seemed to be genuinely intimidating, but really Vic and intimidating didn't mix at all. Vic was like five foot. Never once did you see the Dark Lord Sauron ever scared of fucking little Frodo Baggins. Except maybe the ring- ah! The ring gave him power, the ring passed on the madness. Where did I even fit into this weirdass metaphor? I was probably Smeagol, keeper of the ring, keeper of madness, and I was certainly ugly enough for the role.

"What the hell did I say to Jenny?" I rolled my eyes at him; what I said was more than beside the point. What she said was where it began to get rather interesting, far too dangerous, and more than a little chaotic.

"Yes, Kellin-"

"Boys, please take your argument outside." I was met by the stern gaze of the librarian, and Vic took no hesitation in pushing my limp frame out through the double doors and into the hallway. He was far too violent, and I think maybe it was in fact scaring me, just a little, because Vic knew things, Vic could manipulate me if he wanted to. I didn't put him out to be the type, but he could and I shouldn't be surprised if he ended up doing so.

"What the hell did you say to her?" He had me at arm's length, grabbing me by the collar and practically pinning me against the wall. I should be more than fucking scared, but this was Vic Fuentes and surely he wasn't supposed to physically hurt his charity case, now was he? That'd be interesting; a blow to the head or several - that would surely be more than just fascinating. I was more than used to the pain - it wouldn't be anything new, now would it?

"How about what the hell did she say to me?" I snapped right back at him, only to be met with a mildly confused expression that took everything in me not to downright laugh at, because really if he had genuinely believed that I'd initiated a one side argument with the queen bitch. "Or how about what the hell did you say to her?" That really threw him off; he let go of me, leaving me to collapse against the surprisingly comfortable display board.

"What the hell do you mean, Kellin?" What the hell do you think I mean, Vic? "Jenny came here crying, saying that you pushed her." I downright laughed at this; it was hardly appropriate, but really I just couldn't stop myself, not at all. "You think this is funny? You made my girlfriend cry." Yes, I think it is actually rather hilarious that you even believed this shit.

"She's not just your girlfriend, Vic. She's also a fucking liar." His eyes widened and he just threw me a disappointed glance after a few seconds; the amount of trust he put into her was actually ridiculous. "She ran into me and you want to know what she said? Maybe you should tell her to mind her big gossip mouth, tell her to keep your secrets more securely, okay?"

"Kellin, what did she say?" Vic let out with a sigh. A guilty sigh maybe? I hadn't a clue. Part of me didn't even care, because he could easily just be faking every single word that left his lips now. I wouldn't really be surprised if he was, because we've been there before, and I've lost any fucking trust I was stupid enough to put in this asshole, because Vic wasn't different; he was just as much of a prick as the others.

But, I told him regardless. I wanted to see what he'd say. That'd be interesting, for sure.

"At least I didn't touch your wrists." I looked him dead in the eye. His eyes weren't the same; they were sort of empty, dull maybe. Bitches could do that to you. I think maybe he was shocked, sorry even, but considering previous experiences; I had little to know way of telling.

"Oh my god, Kellin!" He exclaimed. "Please, I promise you, I didn't tell her anything." Yeah, sure, dickface. I was far from believing him, because really, where else had she gotten it from? Exactly! Nowhere. Vic Fuentes was a filthy fucking liar and really I was stupid to have ever even considered trusting this asshole.

"Then who did?" I wasn't having any Vic Fuentes bullshit today. "No one else knows, Vic. No one." There was no getting around this one for him and I was finally glad to get the truth out, get him to fuck off and finally get things back to normal, before he walked into that fucking bathroom and saw everything I never wanted anyone to see.

"Fuck, Kellin." He ran his hands desperately throw his hair. "I don't know. I really don't know." Yeah, sure. You don't know how to lie anymore do you, fucktard?

"Then who? Who knows?"

"Kellin. Someone must have noticed; you can't keep things secret forever-" I can. Just fucking watch me. You shouldn't walk into bathrooms you shouldn't be in, you know? There's the problem - not me.

"Watch me."

"It's hardly a secret now I know, is it?" He raised his eyebrows at me. Fuck you. It's not like you were ever even allowed to fucking know; you're no one to mean, you're just Vic.

"Well that wasn't exactly my decision, was it?" I was practically yelling at him now, and I'm sure moving a few metres out of the library had little to no effect on the amount of noise we were making. I'm sure the librarian had great pleasure in listening into our argument, listening into my fucked up life like everyone else did. Maybe it was more interesting than hers; I didn't half blame her.

"Kellin, you could have died-" Thank you, I was more than aware of that already, but-

"You know what? Maybe I wanted to. Maybe I fucking wanted to!"

"Kellin-" He pulled me into a hug before I could resist, and practically pinned my drooping frame against his chest. Part of me didn't actually mind at all. "What she said was uncalled for. And I'll talk to her about it - tell her it's not true and found out where she heard it from, okay?" Silence. "Promise?" Ugh, he was the one making me promise now? That was actually quite funny.

I considered going along with entirely, but I think, I think I just had a better idea entirely.

"Promise." I said my promise with fingers behind my back, fingers tied. Fingers tied are fingers that lie, and I guess Vic's getting nothing more than what he deserves. Karma's a bitch, right?

Maybe life was all just a game, but maybe that wasn't so bad.

And guess who was losing?

Not me, not anymore.

I was tired of losing - I was tired of it all.

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