Ok so, I read Scott Pilgrim and decided to write a story, although I have other stories I should continue…Oh well I'll live, ideas sometimes take time as I'm sure everyone knows.

So from here I'm gonna tell you the obvious, the story will end depressingly if I actually finish it. This story will also be done in retrograde fashion, starting with something at/essentially near the end and going the rest of the back story from there. I'm no veteran writer but I try when I write.

Disclaimer: I don't own the comics by Bryan O'Malley but this story is original and will try to incorporate some kind of truth to the characters.

From the comics a little OOC will occur because of my planned plot. Sue me. Also a shift in time will be required for some of the music choices I make, so just imagine the story took place a few years later than it did.

OOOOO

A sound could be heard outside of a small apartment in Toronto, Canada. The sound was angry, depressed…It was cold and snowing. Snow, how perfect…Death in all its sweet beauty. If one were to brave travelling into the small apartment one would find near complete darkness as it was night outside and all the lights were off, save one.

In the corner was a dimly lit and flickering computer screen, the owner needed a new one…On this particular day the computer was only being used for a blaring of music through attached speakers. This was the origin of the sound which could be heard from out side, an emotional song for which the player had started to numb their pain. Only inside could you understand the lyrics…

I loved you, you made me, hate me.
You gave me hate see?
It saved me and these tears are deadly.
You feel that?
I rip back, every time you tried to steal that.
You feel bad?
You feel sad?
I'm sorry hell no fuck that!
It was my heart, it was my life, it was my start, it was your knife.
This strife it dies, this life and these lies.
These lungs have sung this song for too long, and its true I hurt to remember I loved you

The anger of the song, the depression, the sheer emotion of the words could move one. But for the individual who had started the song they only intensified what they were already drowning in. In a swivel chair not far from the desk that was inhabited by the computer and speakers sat someone. It couldn't be heard from outside, in fact even on the inside the sound was but a mere murmur, a restrained cry which could not be held in for much longer. The individual who had thought them self so strong, able to endure all, and a centre of self-control was losing all that had made them who they were. People had tried to console him, but nothing had worked.

His hat was itchy. He violently ripped it off and threw it to the wall at the other side of the room and the bill of the hat clicked off the wall and the colorful article landed on the floor with an inaudible sound. He grabbed at his hair, tugging at it. Tears streamed down his face as his teeth grinded and his eyes stayed locked shut. The sound remained restrained.

I've lost it all fell today its all the same
I'm sorry oh (I'm sorry)
I'm sorry no (no)
I've been abused, I feel so used, because of you

I'm sorry oh (I'm sorry)
I'm sorry no (no)

Control leaving his body, the memory of his new loss only now began to surge its way up through his emotions and actions. Today was the funeral…He would miss it, he never intended to go even though his friends all pleaded him to go. He leaned farther down in his seat an angry yell welling up from deep within his throat, he couldn't handle what had happened to him. His one and only love, gone and the world wouldn't give two shits that she was gone.

While he suffered others like Scott and Stephen, even Wallace, got to keep their loves, what did he get? Pain. His hands moved from their tight grip on his hair to the side of his face, his short nails clawing at his skull, anything to dull the emotional pain, this wouldn't be the first try he had made either. Only now, it was on an uncontrollable downslide.

I wish I could have quit you
I wish I never missed you and told you that I loved you every time I fucked you
The future that we both drew and all the shit we've been through
Obsessed with the thought of you the pain just grew and grew!
How could you do this too me
Look at what I made for you it never was enough and the world is what I gave you
I used to be love struck and now I'm just fucked up
Pull up my sleeves and see the pattern of my cuts!

The cold outside pierced the room; he could even see his breath... This did nothing to dull his pain. He could no longer take it; he stood from his sparsely cushioned chair and screamed to the world, tears which had never been shed until today coming in droves. He grabbed his chair and threw it across the room he was in; it made contact with a wall and cracked it. He flipped the small couch in the room in the depression which had just been unleashed from the depths of his soul.

He kicked the small table which sat next to the couch, knocking the contents of that table everywhere and the table into a spin that connected with his desk. In this rage he failed to see what had flown off that table. Next he ran and grabbed the tall lamp which sat originally on the other side of the couch and swung with all his might to the ground, shattering the light bulb and flinging off the shade. He swung again at the doorway to the next room, what used to be the bedroom of him and her… The doorway cracked from the contact.

He continued to damage the room and his body until he no longer had the strength to fight the world which he was cursing a million times over.

I've lost it all fell today it's all the same
I'm sorry oh (I'm sorry)
I'm sorry no (no)
I've been abused, I feel so used, because of you
I'm sorry oh (I'm sorry)
I'm sorry no (no)

Seems like all we had is over now, you left to rest.
And your tears are dried up now; you just lay without a sound.
Seems like all we had is over now, you left to rest.
And my fears are over now; I can leave with my head down

When he couldn't fight or scream in pain any more he only stared at the ceiling, crying tears which stung his eyes now. He fell to his knees and with this fall his head drooped to look at the ground. Amidst the glass and scattered items he saw something which only made him hurt more; it felt as if his heart was covered in lye. He shuffled to the item as fast as he could and pulled it out from under glass shards and a thrown book. The most recent picture of the couple…

They were smiling and laughing, he had gotten her to start once again… He remembered that day vividly but to recall now would have done nothing to ease the pain and constriction in his chest. A lone tear fell onto the picture which he held in his now weak arms. He shook with cold and sadness. She was everything to him.

"Why..?" The sobbing question from the young man was nearly drowned out by the music which still blared from his speakers lending to his mounting depression.

I've lost it all fell today it's all the same
I'm sorry oh (I'm sorry)
I'm sorry no (no)
I've been abused, I feel so used, because of you
I'm sorry oh (I'm sorry)
I'm sorry no (no)

The song came to a finish but his emotions changed very little. The world was against him, it wasn't fair that others got to keep their loved ones and his only love was gone. Overcome by grief he gave the girl in the picture one final kiss, something he never got to do. He glanced at his arm; the cuts which he had hid from his friends were stark white against the backdrop of his skin, a few additions to the many across his bare upper body which had come from elsewhere. Even with that he had not cried once until today. He spotted a larger piece of glass and grabbed it. One more cut wouldn't change anything but why not try?

The edge of the glass sliced through a portion of his skin, causing a trail of blood to travel down his arm. He had never been one to be emo or cut until he had lost her. He dropped the glass shard limply, the pain of the cut only just registering in his mind. He stared once again at the picture of the happy couple. He stood slowly, maybe it would be better to end everything right now? No…his outburst was over, he could withstand anything…

The tears on his face were drying now. Other songs played in the background but he could no longer hear them. He meandered into what was once their bedroom and then into the bathroom. He opened a drawer and pulled out gauze and a large roll of cloth for wounds. He wound the cloth around the gauze placed over his cut. Looking at himself in the mirror he looked near dead, dark rings around his now dull eyes, skin more pale than ever, a bloody arm, bedraggled hair, scars everywhere, and a slouch to his posture.

He turned from the mirror and dragged his feet out of the bathroom until he reached their old bed. He flopped down on the bed in sheer exhaustion. Why did she have to leave him? Why did she die so young? Questions like these filled his mind as he drifted closer and closer to sleep. Pulling a cover vaguely over his now freezing body he passed out on the bed that night. One day maybe he could be saved, but for now someone needed to find him and that someone would not come until morning.

OOOOO

So that's that. If I ever get to where the context of this chapter makes sense I'll be amazed. However this is again, a retrograde story, like Star Wars. This is the end or near the end, I haven't decided which, and the story will pick up a certain time in the past.

This is a very depressing first chapter/end to the story mostly influenced by depressing songs. Oh well, if you like it review.

Song: Black Dahlia by Hollywood Undead