He Just Wanted Out

I have woken up every morning for the past 3 years to the same thing. A world without him. Just never hearing his voice again puts me in tears.
February 4th 2000

I woke up that morning in my room. I threw on a pair of black jeans, a black t shirt, and I put my long hair into spikes. I went into the bathroom and put black eye shadow and lipstick on my face “didn’t need to put white powder on cuz my face is naturally pale” brushed my teeth, grabbed my notebook, my walkman, and cell phone and headed out the door to another day of torture. When I had gotten to school, my best friend, Spike, was waiting for me at my locker. He was trying to hide the pain that he felt. I knew that his dad had beaten him again. Sensing something else was wrong, I asked him. Spike replyed, “Nothing is wrong,” then added wtih a smirk, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but whips and chains excite me.” I laughed and we went through another day of people, especially the jocks, preps, and the populars saying “Look at those Freaks!” “They’re possessed by the devil!” I always thought we were going to get jumped, but Spike always smirked and yelled out “At least we’re not stuck up Bitches and Whores.” I was pretty thankful that I had a friend like Spike. That afternoon I headed back to his place, so we could work on our songs for our band “The bloodsuckers” Spike had tensed up when we walked in the front door. He told me to step back behind the door and to blend in with the shadows, and not to come out no matter what happened. I did as I was told. Spikes dad came into the hallway and started yelling at him “What the FUCK is this!” he yelled and threw the piece of paper in Spikes face. Spike picked up the paper and looked at it. He replyed, “Oh SHIT I’m sorry dad I forgot to pay the phone bill.” His father threw him up against the wall and yelled “You’re sorry… you’re sorry, don’t give me that fuckin sorry shit.” Spike then took his trench coat off and let it drop to the floor. “Since you’re pissed off, I might as well show you what I’ve been doing in my room for the past 4 nights.” He showed his dad his arms. From the top of his arms down to his wrists, Spike had deep gashes carved into him. Spike then turned around and showed his father his shoulders. The words “FUCK YOU” and “HELL” were engraved on them. Spike then said, “You see the words on my left shoulder, that’s how I feel about YOU!” His father raised his fist and hit Spike in the face. Spike stood his ground, as his dad repeatedly punched him. From behind the door I could here Spike grunt and I saw him wince, but he took the pain. His father shoved him against the wall, one last time, before he got his keys. Spike layed on the floor, blood dripping from his face. He looked up at his father, as he started toward the door. His dad turned, spat in his face, and yelled “You are a worthless son of a bitch. I never wanted you for a son. You fuckin sick FREAK! I hope you kill yourself.” With that said, his dad turned and slammed the door. Spike stood up and wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Hey Shadow go sit on the couch while I go clean myself up.” Spike said. I walked out from behind the door and walked into the living room. I heard the shower go on. A few minutes later, I heard Spike cussing at himself. I walked down the hall and stopped at the bathroom door. As I opened the door and started to walk in, I saw Spike turn his head, for an instant, then in a split second I saw him pull the trigger and blood went everywhere. In that split second, time seemed to stand still. I couldn’t move I couldn’t breath. Once the numbness wore off, I ran to the phone and called 911. The ambulace had arrived a few minutes later. As I heard the sirens wail in the distance, I walked around Spike’s room, tears streaming down my face, as I looked for something that would tell me why Spike had killed himself. I found a letter from him that was written in his own blood. I also found in his boxer drawer, a video labeled, “I’m Sorry For What I’ve Done.” Attached to the video was an envelope. I opened it, inside was Spike’s favorite chain, his skull ring and his black bandanna. As quickly as I could, I grabbed the Video, the letter and the envelope and I ran as fast as I could out of that house. That night when I got home, I ran to my room and locked myself in. I stayed in my room all night long, watching the video of Spike. About 2:00 A.M. I turned my V.C.R. off and I fell onto my bed wearing Spike’s leather jacket and I cryed myself to sleep. The next few days seemed like an eternity to me. I went to Spike’s funeral 4 days after his death. Everyone there seemed happy that he was gone, except for me and his 3 other best friends. A week after the funeral, Spike’s dad had gotten arrested for beating his son. After that everything went downhill from there. Snake and Darrelys parents wouldn’t let them go anywhere near the gothic gang, and Derek ended up in an insane assylum, and by the time he got out he was a sycho path. A month goes by, my parents start noticing changes in me. I started wearing more black then usual, I wore a spiked choke collar around my neck all the time, and I carryed a knife with me every where I went. I’d lock myself in my room for hours at a time, blaring some type of death music, either Marylin Manson, Nine Inch Nails, Slayer or Slipknot, whichever appealed to me. Many nights I sat alone in my basement, twirling a large knife in my hands and crying. Couldn’t bring myself to it. Quaking nighmares, seeing his death everynight. Dealing with the horrid nightmares we once shared, now alone. February 6th 2000

My life almost ended Feb. 6th 2002. A boy I’d been with for over a year had broken up with me on that date. My parents weren’t home, so I decided to take a bath. I layed in the warm water, blood slowly dripped off my wrist into it, turning the water a light pink. My parents came home 3 hours later and found me in the tub, i had passed out. My mom had called 911 and I was rushed to the hospital. Once I got out, my mom wisked me into a mental institution. For the next couple months, I had been transfered from the institution to different counselors then back to the institution for more testing. I miss him with all my heart and as the tears roll in I must part. I hope this helps everyone realize the value of a friendship. Cuz I never knew till that day!

By sexyvampirechick15

I'm a 16 year old gothic girl. I love to write poetry about myself, my friends, the people I hate, school, my parents, and other adults that have met or seen me.