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Post by kellan hurley on Dec 7, 2012 20:43:32 GMT -5
   The sun was setting at the horizon, the waves crashing against the beach's sand calmly. Birds were flying up high in a happy little group as a lonely form sat on the sand, starring out at the water, unmoving. He had done his share of moving that day.
* * * * *
Kellan walked in his house with a brand new bottle of Jack Daniel's in his backpack that he dropped on the couch, going to get, not a glass, but a book. He needed to write out what he was feeling deep down. He felt himself brought five years back in time, instead this time, he felt slightly more in control of his emotions.
He sat back down on the couch, took the shinny bottle from the bag, which he threw in a corner of the room and cracked the cap of the bottle opened, which resonated through the quiet appartment. "Cheers Kells" he told himself, raising the bottle to his eyes' level and then brought it down to his mouth, letting the strong liquid run down his throat as he tilted the bottle more and more.
He set it on the coffee table as he had taken down more than the third of the bottle down in one sip. He let out a really long sigh as recent events came back to him. "I love her a lot. I don't know what's happening." He loved Shayley above anyone and hearing these words were simply too painful for Kellan to deal with sober. So you do the only thing you know, and that is drink yourself away, right? Pathetic! he thought to himself, finally letting the first tears roll down, dropping on the sheets with loud thuds, his shoulders shaking with the sobs. He tried writing, but it came out to something like this :
Ever since we met I only shoot up with your perfume
It's the only thing that makes me feel as good as you do
Ever since we met, I got just one regret to live through
And that one regret is you
Pain. So much of it and he wanted it away, numbed. He looked ahead of him and took a hold of the bottle in front of him again, swinging it up and drinking like you would juice. He eventually set it back down and cried some more, dropping on the ground, almost hitting his head on the table, and curled into a ball. And sobbed. And sobbed.
You're unbelievably pathetic Kellan Peter Hurley. Do something about yourself. If you want to take the pain away, then do it. He nodded slowly to himself, not realizing he wasn't the one talking, but the alcohol. He got up after a moment, trying to steady himself, but stumbled and fell against the wall. He just rested there with his back against the wall for a second until the living room was steady again and walked to the bathroom, locking himself in unnecessarily.
He then rummaged through all the drawers, looking for something. But he couldn't find it. Brush, gel, hand cloths, beauty products. they were all there. But not what he was looking for. He decided to play all for all and took a hold of his razor and a hand cloth. He positioned himself and slammed the razor again the corner of the sink module, covering it with the hand cloth so it didn't fly everywhere. He succeeded and took one of the blades, and looking at himself in the cabinet mirror.
"Look at yourself Kellan, not even able to keep someone in your life without them throwing you out at some point. Even Shayley doesn't want of you. You're useless. Pathetic!" he said, then looked down and brought the blade down, slicing once, twice, three, four, five, until he felt numb, or more empty of feelings, which brought him up to about ten slits. He eventually felt light headed and wrapped a cloth around his wrist while he looked around and wrapped it with a bandage. He let the water run in the sink to clear the blood while he walked out, to the living room and took down another good amount of alcohol.
It's when he set the bottle down this time that he lost it all. As the bottom of the bottle hit the glass of the table with a light thud, something went wrong in his head. He just flipped the table over, breaking the glass onto the white carpet. Twirling around, he faced the wall-unit and took a hold of sculpture and after frame, throwing them randomly around the apartment, screaming. no one could hear as the wall were sound proof. he drunkenly rebounded into the wall and slid down it, curling once more on himself, his knees against his chest and sobbing. He did so for what seemed like hours...
* * * * *
Now as he sat on the sand, looking out at the setting down, he felt the effect of the alcohol's debuz and was now lightheaded from the blood loss. His wrist was burning like someone had shoved a burning skillet on it. Tears slowly started running down his cheeks, but he remained unmoving, stoned, petrified.
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Post by shayley ezra carlile on Dec 7, 2012 21:54:08 GMT -5
Shayley slept heavily, Lacie in his arms. He slept peacefully. No one slept close to him like the way Lacie did. Except Devyn and that was a different kind of cuddling entirely. And Devyn kicks. He slept peacefully until a night terror started to darken around his serene dream state. He dreamt that Kellan was in trouble. That he was in pain. Shayley woke up with tears in his eyes. . . Kellan . . . Of course Kellan was in pain. He knew everything. Shayley untangled himself from Lacie and pulled on his boxers and a pair of skinny jeans. He made his way into the bathroom, still shirtless.
He closed the door and flicked on the light. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. He pulled down his pants and checked out the three lines on his hipbone, they were starting to heal, but they were most definitely going to scar. He pulled out his razor and pulled down the other side of his pants. One two three, now his right side matched his left. He pulled up his jeans and put on a yellow shirt and slipped on some Vans, and he was out of the house.
On the drive over to Kellan’s home Shayley wept. He had hurt his best friend of ten years. What was he going to say? What could he say to Kellan? His thoughts were interrupted as he pulled into Kellan’s driveway. Shayley knocked and stood outside for about ten minutes, but there was no answer. Shayley used the spare key Kellan kept hidden under the fake rock and entered the house.
Shayley walked into the living room and stood there, looking for him. There was no trace of him. The only other place Shayley could think that Kellan might be was on the beach somewhere. After a short drive Shayley arrived at his destination, and he walked and walked until he found Kellan.
He stood paralyzed at the sight of Kellan. He was curled up around an empty bottle of Jack. Shayley screamed in fear and shock when he saw Kellan’s wrist. He ran to Kellan and pulled Kellan against him out of habit, not thinking that he was the last person Kellan probably wanted to see. “Oh god Kellan baby what did you do to yourself?!”
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Post by kellan hurley on Dec 8, 2012 21:53:31 GMT -5
The sun had almost set completely, leaving Kellan in an almost pitch darkness when the tears started falling again. He felt miserable, useless, pointless. Like he wasn't needed on this planet. Everyone left him at some point, so there had to be something wrong with him, right? Of at least that's what he was convinced of as he curled up in a ball, falling on his side and cuddling his almost empty bottle of Jack Daniel's. He calmed his crying for a second, rolling on his back and let the rest of the burning liquid slide down his throat.
He then turned to his side again and curled up, cuddling the bottle again, even if it was as dry as the Sahara. The crying resumed, shaking Kellan's shoulders with the violent sobs. He was alone in his world of misery until something pulled him back to reality without his consent. His brain did not have the ability to immediately assimilate sound and words, but he felt himself being rocked back and forth and recognized the arms he was in. For a split second, everything was beautiful; the sun was shinning at night, the birds were singing, it was warm and the waves were crashing loudly.
But he soon snapped out as his heart started aching and felt like it was breaking. Then he acknowledged the words coming out of his heart breaker, his best friend. He pushed him away, not hard though since he was still half drunk from the last sip he had taken.
"Why are you here? What do you care what I did to myself?" he then reached down to his wrist and tore the bandage off, pulling with it the blood that had dried on the tissue, making it bleed lightly again. "You mean these? Yeah, I cut myself. So what? I can't have some kind of relief? You're selfish, cause you do it yourself." Every word he was saying, he obviously didn't mean them literally. It was the pain and alcohol talking for him. Any random person could not tell the difference, but some flicker in him knew Shay would know. "Yeah I saw them one night. Did I say something? No. Not because I don't care, but because I know what it's like to be reminded that you do this to yourself by others."
He started getting up, but he fell back down to his knees and started crying, his forehead on his knees, shaking heavily from the sobs and wailing loudly. He was in so much pain and just wanted someone to tell him it would all be okay... even if he wouldn't believe them. He wanted his friend back, no, the love of his life. But he knew he couldn't, so he just cried some more.
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