Beat Me Down
Title: Beat Me Down
Fandom: HIGNFY
Pairing: Paul/Angus
Rating: ...
Some Info: The result of listening to Linkin Park whilst writing
Summary: Angus suffers the pain of what he's done.
Disclaimer: This never happened and is a work of fiction. I am making NO money from this and mean NO offence by it either.
You got up about yesterday. You put your cold feet on the floor. You sat perched on the edge of your bed, tugging the covers, gritting your teeth. You were left in the wake of the mistakes you made, slow to react. Now you sit within the confines of the eerie blue light that has encapsulated your room. Everything seems like a dream but you know that if you even brush your cheeks, you will suffer an onslaught of stinging pain. The day was standing still. You shut your eyes because the sanctuary of your room is like a cage.
“Fantastic…”, you say, your voice cracked with pain, your attempt at bravery not coming through at all as a rivulet of blood silently flows onto your chest. It had all happened so fast.
You had been caught. No second chances. The camera flashed and the story was smeared across the dirty papers.
You pull your mouth back into a weak scowl and tap your head against the wall, harder and harder, hoping that somehow it would dispel everything. Maybe the room would dissolve and you would collapse into never ending darkness. No luck.
You watch the paper on your desk, your eyes over flowing with hatred. You had to admit you were waiting for it to do something. The pain was beginning to crush your sanity.
You adjust the bandages that encase your aching bones.
“Fuck”, you choke.
“You dirty twat!!!”
You look up, wide eyed. Who said that? Paul? No. He said that last night. The words thundered down on you like cheerless raindrops.
You risk a look out of your window, nothing but emptiness in your expression.
Bleak. Deep grey skies, colourless surroundings. Dispirited people trudging around in sunken dreams. Your eyes snap shut. You can’t take much more.
“OKAY! I DID SOMETHING WRONG!” you admit almost to yourself or the imaginary tormentor who lurks over your shoulder.
You cringe at the tearing ache that envelops your arms. Injuries sustained from a beating. Your eyes shift back to the grim outside world, drowning in it’s own insecurity whilst you tolerate the rhythmic pangs in your heart.
“Leave me alone…”
The papers catches the wind as it leaves your hand and it’s pages rattle violently.
Your eyes sink down with a meaningful look that you could have misinterpreted a million times before the truth revealed itself.
The scandal was spreading. His room was like a sanctuary that protected him from the scathing remarks of nobodies.
Comments that still make you seethe inside…