A/N- Ah, my first dark one-shot. I have no idea how I came up with this idea, but I think listening to 'Whiskey Lullaby' by Brad Paisley had something to do with it (:
So, with that, here's the one-shot! Keep in mind, it's 2 A.M when I'm writing the majority of this :P
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
I slammed the front door, and went straight for the kitchen. I opened the fridge, and pulled out the thing that took away all of my pain.
Whiskey.
I put the bottle in my book bag, and quickly ran upstairs.
Hi, I'm Gwen Rodgers, and I suffer from depression
I walked up to the bathroom, and locked the door. I put my book bag on the counter, and pulled out the whiskey. I pulled out my whiskey opener, opened the lid, and took a drink.
Whiskey drowned the pain away from my life. And there was a lot of it. I was an outcast at school. My mother was never home. My dad was dead. My brother committed suicide a year ago. My step dad abuses me, and I'm forced to hide it.
If it wasn't for Trent, I'd be gone.
Trent was my boyfriend for a year and six months. We've been best friends ever since we were two. Trent was my other life savior. He was there for me when my brother committed suicide. He was my best friend.
I tell him everything that happens. He's the only one who knows everything. I can't tell anyone else. It feels wrong every time I think of telling someone about it.
Trent knows every time my step dad hits me. When I call crying, he knows that my step dad hit me. He comforts me, and tells me that he'll be there first thing in the morning.
He's the only ray of sunshine I have left in my life.
It's a shame to say that I can't turn to my friends anymore.
One of my best friends was Bridgette Goodson. We were close. I told her everything, up until a year ago. She told queen bee Heather Thompson about my brother's suicide, and what happened the night it happened.
FLASHBACK
I went up to my room, crying. My brother was gone, and there was no way to bring him back. I stopped crying for a second, and stood up. I walked over to my drawer, and pulled out a black velvet box: The ring that used to hold my mom's first engagement ring. Now, a small black knife took its place. I pulled out the knife, and pointed it to my wrist.
Slit. Slit. Slit. Slit.
My vision became blurry, and I became light-headed. The last thing I saw was the knife fall to the floor before passing out.
Now, because she told Heather of what happened, we barely ever talked. A simple hello slipped out of our mouths once in a while, but nothing else did.
I put the bottle to my mouth again, and my cell phone rang. I put the bottle down, and got the cell phone out of my pocket. It was Trent.
"Hello?" I said.
"Hey babe," Trent said. I picked up the whiskey bottle, and took another quick sip out of it.
"Hey, can you call back?" I asked him. He was silent for a minute.
"Are you drinking again?" He asked.
"What? Um… no," I lied. It killed me lying to Trent. But, I told him I wouldn't drink again.
"Gwen, please don't lie to me," He said.
Another thing that was so great about Trent was that he saw right through me. He could tell when I was lying, when there was something wrong, when something wasn't right.
"Maybe," I said.
"Gwen, put the bottle down, and don't take another sip out of it," He said.
"Trent-"
"Gwen, please, put the bottle down," He said. I sighed, and put the bottle down.
"There. It's-" A pound on the door interrupted me.
Great, step daddy's home.
"Open the door!" He yelled. I put the lid back on the whiskey, and shoved it in my book bag.
"I'll be out in a minute!" I yelled.
"Is he home?" Trent asked.
"Yeah. I'll call you back in a few minutes. Love you," I said, and hung up the phone. I grabbed my book bag, and opened the door. He pushed me out, and closed the door. I stood up, and walked to my room.
I put my book bag in the corner of the room, leaving the whiskey in it. I sat on my bed, and pulled out my sketching notebook. I started drawing Trent's guitar, when my step-dad opened the door.
"Why does the bathroom smell like alcohol?" He asked.
"I don't know. Is it you?" I replied, and put the sketchbook away. I knew with that comment, things would get bad, and fast. He walked up to me.
"No, but I'm starting to think it's you," He said.
"Nope," I lied. He sat on my bed.
"Open your mouth, and let me smell your breath," He said.
"Why?" I asked.
"Gwendolyn, do it, now!" He yelled.
"No," I said. He slapped my face. I closed my eyes, as I felt my cheek sting.
"You have five seconds to open your mouth, or I'll force you," He said. I kept my mouth shut.
I might have been stirring up shit myself, but I was not about to get in trouble because of drinking. Who knows what could happen if he found out I was drinking. He nearly killed me when he found out I was cutting.
"Gwen, open it!" He yelled.
"No," I said again. He slapped me again, and pushed me off the bed. He climbed on top of me.
"Open your mouth, now," He said. I sighed, and opened it. He smelled my breath, my heart beating fast.
"Stand up!" He snapped. I stood up, and he pushed me back down. I stood up again. This time, he shoved me to the wall. He grabbed my wrist, to stop me from escaping. He clutched them as hard as he could.
"Where did you get it?" He whispered.
"Like I'd tell you," I said. He punched the wall.
"You better," He said.
"Make me," I said. He punched me twice, once in the eye, and once in the mouth. I closed my eyes, hoping the pain would go away.
"Now, where did you get it?" He asked. I swallowed nervously.
"The fridge," I replied.
"You STOLE from me! That was MY whiskey!" He yelled, and slapped me a few more times. He let go of my wrists, and I sunk to the ground. I grabbed my wrists in pain.
"How much did you steal?" He asked.
"A few bottles," I admitted. He kicked me.
"Stupid mindless rock," He muttered, and walked off. He stopped at the door.
"Where's the current bottle?" He snapped.
"Gone," I lied.
"It better be," He said, and left. I ran a hand through her hair.
Believe it or not, this was usually a daily routine ever since mom got married to him.
But now, I had enough of it.
I grabbed my book bag, sketchbook, diary, my pen, and phone, and went into the bathroom. I locked the door. I called Trent back.
"Everything okay?" He asked.
"No," I replied.
"What-"
"I love you, and I always will. Bye Trent," I said, and hung up the phone. Next, I grabbed my diary, and wrote a page. I closed it.
I went for the sketchbook next, and went to the next blank page. I drew a heart, and then wrote Trent's name and mom's name in it. I closed the sketchbook.
I reached in my book bag, and pulled out the whiskey bottle. I stared at it, and then threw it to the floor. I watched the bottle smash into pieces against the floor, the whiskey pouring out.
For some reason, it felt good.
I picked up a piece of the glass, and set it on top of my diary. Next, I took out the black velvet box that held the knife. I kissed it, and also set it on top of the diary.
I heard my step-dad talking onto the phone with my mom. I heard him say that she'd be home in about five minutes. I unlocked the bathroom door, but kept it closed.
I took off my boots, and turned on the bathtub water.
I pulled the phone from my pocket, and texted Trent.
I love you. I sent it, and set the phone on top of the diary.
Once the water was to the rim, I put the drain in the bathtub, to stop the water from draining. I heard my mom's car pull up into the driveway.
"Goodbye world," I whispered, and stepped into the bathtub. I put my head underneath the water, as it ran. I let the water take away all of my pain. The last sound I heard was my mother's screams, before everything faded to black.
Hi, I'm Gwen Rodgers, and I drowned myself today.
Two weeks later. Normal P.O.V
Trent Smith walked to the casket, to see his girlfriend one last time. Trent found out Gwen had committed suicide when he came over to her house after her phone call. He heard Gwen's mother crying, and he went up to the bathroom. He saw Gwen's tiny, fragile, unliving body in the bathtub.
Now, Trent Smith cried for the first time since his grandfather died.
Bridgette Goodson was also at the funeral. She was with her boyfriend, and a close friend to Gwen, Cody Anderson. He comforted her as she cried.
"I'm a bad friend," She said every few minutes.
"No, you're not," He replied every time.
Kate Rodgers, Gwen's mom, found the bruises on Gwen's body after the paramedics took her out of the water, She found out that Corey Marshall, her current husband and Gwen's step-dad, had been hitting her. She filed for divorce immediately. Now, Kate walked up to the casket, and comforted Trent.
Heather Thompson stood in the back. Sure, she teased Gwen. A lot. But, for some reason, she felt bad. Millions of stories were told about Gwen. They all said that she threw herself out a window, put her dad's gun to her head, drowned herself… the stories and lies continued. Bridgette told her what happened, and she couldn't help but to feel somewhat guilty.
Later, after Gwen's casket was laid into the ground, Trent stood by the spot. He stared at the ground, and knelt down.
"I'll miss you Gwen," He said, and pulled something out of his pocket. It was a dark blue velvet case.
"This was going to be for Valentine's Day, but apparently you didn't make it that long," Trent said, and set the box on the grave. He hid it beneath the dirt, so no one would steal it. He would make sure it was hers forever. He felt a hand touch his shoulder, and looked up to see Kate.
"Here," She said, and handed Trent Gwen's diary.
"She told me to never read it," Trent said.
"Trent, she's gone. This is something that keeps her alive. Go to the final entry," Kate said. Trent flipped through the pages, until he saw the one with the date Gwen died.
For anyone who's reading this,
I don't think committing suicide was that bad on my part. But, for Trent, mom, and anyone else who cared, I'm sorry. I couldn't handle it anymore. I was losing grip of reality, and I couldn't hold on anymore.
I'm sorry, and I really do love you.
Trent closed the diary, and clung to it for dear life. He wiped a stray tear away, and Kate patted his back.
"I'm going home. You coming?" Kate asked.
"In a minute," Trent said. Kate nodded, and walked away. Trent faced Gwen's grave.
"La la la la la la la," Trent muttered. He kissed the grave, stood up, and followed Kate.
Gwen would forever be in his memory.
A/N- Aww, sad :/
The la's is part of the song 'Whiskey Lullaby.' "And the angels sang a whiskey lullaby. La la la la la la la."
R&R!
Featured Music- Whiskey Lullaby- Brad Paisley FT. Allison Krauss.
~Musicstar5