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Tada! Here's were I'm gonna put all my junk.

~TRIGGER WARNING~

This is a chapter I wrote for a fanfiction I'm doing with a friend. It involves self harm, so please don't read if you're sensitive to that.



Chapter ?? ~ Screw Trust

Tyler's POV

I closed the door behind me and sank to the floor. Today had actually been relatively better than all the rest, that is until that shouting match. I hated how Roni and Luc didn't get along. It was annoying as hell, plus they both made me feel like it was all my fault.

I reached under my mattress and pulled out my pocket knife. Within minutes, my anger and sadness was shown on my skin through little red lines. I sighed, starting to dig through my drawers for a ribbon to cover the cuts, to claim was for fashion.

"Tyler...?" I froze when I heard it. A heartbroken voice, right behind me. Slowly, I turned to see... Luc. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open. I swallowed hard, my eyes darting in between my bloody wrist and his broken face.

He took a step closer, and I took a step back. I ran into my wall, but there was nothing in between me and the rugged sexiness of my angel. He took another step closer, and I could see him shaking.

"Tyler... Why?!" His voice cracked, and I let out a strangled sob. The next thing I knew, I was crushed against Luc's chest, his arms holding me protectively. I immediately burst into uncontrolled tears, unable to hear the sweet words of Luc. He pet my hair, clutching me against him.

"I'm s-sorry..." I manages to choke out, but he didn't seem to hear, still holding me oh so tight. I kept crying, crying until I could cry no longer. Luc pulled away slightly and looked at me with sweet eyes- angel eyes. I was suddenly struck with the fact that I was in his arms, embraced by his leather coated limbs. I could feel my cheeks flush, but I didn't try and move.

He wiped the tears from my face with cold hands that made me flinch, his fingers straying to my hair and running through it. I watched him as he did, swallowing hard.

I couldn't tell anyone when it happened, or even how. One moment I was trying not to cry, my wrist stinging. The next, the cold lips of Luc pressed against mine in a gentle and soft way, his hand tangling itself in my hair, pulling me up against him.

He pulled away to breath, locking eyes with me. "Now you can't do that any more." He whispered in a heartbroken voice. "I care about you, so you can't so that anymore."

He waited for me to answer, so I nodded quietly. A relieved and weak smile broke across his face, and he leaned in for another kiss that I gladly gave to him. One of his hand went to my damaged wrist, rubbing the stinging sounds gently, as if he was trying to heal them with his touch. I don't care, I let him, lost in his caring kisses, my eyes closed to the dark and harsh world.

~Broken Vases~

A short story by: Tyler

Based off of the object prompt: "A vase full of dead flowers"

Warning Some depressing elements. They include: Death of family, car accidents, depression, therapists

//I will be writing another story based off of the above prompt at a later date//

It had been two weeks and three days since the call. The call that stopped time for the one who answered. Of course, it was only in a metaphorical sense, but it truly felt like all had stopped for the poor girl. She had hardly moved from her spot in the living room, the fire crackling and her pale skin wrapped in a soft blanket.

Her boyfriend hadn't left her side, bringing her coffee and snacks, not making her speak. He knew what it was like, what happened to someone when they got that call. But it had been two weeks, and three days. That's seventeen days, seventeen days of laying on the couch, staring blanking ahead, eating and drinking and only barely functioning.

The doorbell rang at two thirty two that afternoon. Her boyfriend got the door, letting in you, a therapist he had called in for, just the day before. He had told you all about his girlfriend's situation. Your eyes scan over the foyer of the house. There's a picture of a family, with the girl right in the middle, next to a picture of a dog. Nothing seems out of place, out of the norm.

The next room is the kitchen. It has an island in the middle, and there's a sort of bar counter with some seats that overlooks the living room. Nothing's messy, the boyfriend has kept everything quite clean. But you can see, on the counter, next to the trash can, is a vase. It's a plain and simple vase, but inside it is a bundle of dead and shriveled up roses. The trash can is filled with thrown away flowers and cards, condolences from other's that have been thrown away. Yet, the roses remain.

"Hello, I'm the grief counselor." You say this in terms of greeting, taking a seat next to the girl. She sighs and offers a frail smile in return. The boyfriend whispers something to her, perhaps trying to encourage her to speak, but silence remains. Being you, of course, you yearn to fill it. Soon, you are speaking of your late uncle and others who have died in your life. The girl is still silent, but you can see it in her eyes. She is listening.

Soon, the hour you have allotted for this household is gone. You stand and give farewells, with a promise to be scheduled to help the girl again. The boyfriend leads you out of the house, past the shriveled flowers, past the pictures of family and dogs.

"Thank you for coming. She hasn't taken the news very well." The boyfriend says quietly, now standing in the doorway before you walk away.

"I can understand why. A car crash, taking her whole family..." You trail off, sighing and falling silent.

The boyfriend nods solemnly. You turn to leave, then decide there's no better time to ask.

"Why are there dead roses on the counter?" You ask slowly, making sure it's obvious the boyfriend can lie about it or flat out tell you no.

"The day before the call was her birthday. They were the last things she received from them."

~The End~

The Dark Angel


Up and over
Down and down
Falling falling
Then you drown
Someone saves you
Out of the blue
A shining knight
Black but bright

Picks you up
Saves your soul
Flies you high
Until you're dry

And then again
When you're done
High and dry
Had your fun
He will land
Take your hand
Dark but still an angel.