DISCALIMER: - I own neither Charmed, its characters nor Vertical Horizon's inspiring song. Just so ya know, if you really thought I owned them all…
Razor Lullaby
Hey y'all. A little one-part thing… I don't plan to extend this at all… Well not as of yet… Angst, most definitely and this is the first new story to go up under my new pen name Twisted Flame… A change from Charmed Leo, huh? Well I hope you like, this is uh… taking a walk in the rain to Vertical Horizon's I'm Sill Here. Kinda dumb, but hey… Tell me what you think.
Uh… This is a future fic I guess, dealing with Chris' depression after the death of Piper… Angst, yes… It seems like that's all I feel like writing at the moment… Self-harming, suicidal thoughts… If you don't like, don't read. But if you wanna read the fic is thatta way.
Twisted Flame
**********
I found the pieces in my hand.
They were always there
it just took some time for me to understand.
You gave me words I just can't say,
so if nothing else
I'll hold on while you drift away.
The marks stood out against his skin, long purple tracks and newer, rust-red scabs marred the length of his arms, a twisted kind of art carved into himself.
The rain was relentless, fat drops falling in sheets and pelting at the ground. Chris was already soaked, dark hair plastered to his forehead and face, his t-shirt clinging to his skin. And yet despite of it all, he trudged on through the park, bowing his head and listening to the squelching of his mud-stained sneakers.
Goosebumps had long since retreated and had now been replaced with mind-numbing, teeth chattering cold that gnawed at the very bones of the teenager, worming its way under his skin and into his heart. He shivered slightly but walked on.
Water trickled down his face and settled in light-splintering beads on his eyelashes, sending the world into several refracted rainbows. He reached out a hand and swiped them away angrily, hating the beauty.
Beauty… Once again he found himself dwelling on his mother, her deep brown eyes that always made him trust in her, he told her everything. The way she could still shush him when he cried, even when he became a teenager, the way when he got sick she would mop his brow with a washcloth, smooth damp hair and tell him stories about her and his aunts, all the vanquishes they had been on… He'd always associated her with every good and wonderful in the world, and had thought that she would live on forever…
Where you are, I'll never know,
but I'm still here.
If you were right and I was wrong
why are you the one that's gone
while I'm still here?
He sniffed and failed to stop a
tear escaping down his cheek. It mingled with the water sliding down his face
and into his shirt. He kicked at a pebble angrily, hating himself for the
display of weakness. And anger… Anger that she had left him, how could
she, didn't she realize that he needed her to carry on? The stone skittered
across the wet, shining pavement and splashed into a puddle.
I held the pieces of my soul.
I was shattered and I wanted you to come and make me whole.
He scowled and walked on, feeling a muddy puddle start to seep up his jeans but ignoring it. He thrust his hands deep into his pocket, caressing the cold metal blade that resided there. It comforted him, knowing his relief was so near…
Without realizing where his feet were taking him he came to rest under a tree, its spreading branches and leaves sheltering him slightly from the weather outside. As he sat down and tried to make himself comfortable on the cold, damp earth a jagged fork of thunder slashed across the sky, followed almost immediately by a growl of thunder that echoed around. The rain seemed to intensify.
Maybe tonight
It's gonna be alright
I will get better.
Maybe today
it's gonna be okay
I will remember.
He pulled out the razor and turned it over and over, watching the miserable grey light glint on its thin edge. He sighed, a half-smile coming to his lips for the first time. He tested the cutting edge with his thumb, lightly running it over the digit.
Then the dark-haired Halliwell let the point of the razor search out a space between old cuts and pushed down, puncturing the skin. It brought a bead of blood welling to the surface, slowly growing until a raindrop dripped from the leaves above and spattered onto it, shattering it in a rose-tinted splash.
Then the rest of the blade, pushing it down gently at first and then forcing it and allowing it to slice a bloody path across previously untouched arm. He closed his eyes, revelling in the cold flash of metal in his flesh.
Can you see the ashes in my heart?
My smile's the widest
when I cry inside as my insides blow apart.
I tried to wear another face
Just to make you proud
Just to make you put me in my place.
Slowly a crimson river slithered its way along his pale flesh, the rivulet of blood running to the underside of his arm. He grabbed a handful of wet t-shirt and wiped his skin, smearing the red across a larger area.
He felt numb, watching the blood that he had wiped on his shirt become absorbed and slowly spread out through the sopping fibres, opening out like a flower in bloom. Then stain stopped spreading and he turned his upper body, slamming his fist into the tree trunk with an angry growl, ignoring the stabbing protesting pains in his knuckles.
He pounded the tree again, this time with the heels of both hands and began to cry. God, was this what it had come to? How could he have let it come to this? He hated himself so much, how could he have let her die? He was so damn useless; he hadn't even been able to help his own mother…
If you were right and I was wrong
why are you the one who's gone
and I'm still here?
The lights go out, the bridges burn,
but once you're gone, you can't return,
but I'm still here.
All he wanted was for this pain to go away, for it all to be better. To be wrapped in the comforting embrace of his mother's hug and for her to stroke his hair, making those shushing noises and holding him until it was all better… His heart wrenched at the memory. He didn't care that he was now sixteen; it didn't stop him wanting a mother…
"Why is that too much to ask?" He cried to the rain, flinging the blade down in the mud. "WHY DAMMIT!" He punched the tree with his other fist, this time noticing the blood that began to crawl forth. "Why?" He asked again, in a small voice, leaning his forehead on the rough bark. After a few steadying breaths, he spoke again, looking up to the leaden sky, green eyes accusing.
"I know you can here this!" He yelled. "I know that you are sitting up their in your fancy gold robes and are having a good laugh about me going NUTS! But I don't actually care what you think so please… please just send my Mom back… I need her so much, it hurts… Please just do this for me…"
No answer except for another ominous roll of thunder.
Cities grow,
and rivers flow.
Where you are, I'll never know
but I'm still here.
Chris ran his hands through his hair, gripping it with both fists and drawing his knees up to his chest to lean his chin on them. He tilted his head upwards, letting out a bitter snort of laughter. "I didn't think you would. You don't care about anyone except Wyatt, do you?" He caught his bottom lip between his teeth and gnawed absently.
Why did it have to be her? There were so many other people in this world and yet Death had come for her… And he had been there, without being able to heal her. And now Wyatt and Leo hated him for it… So much hate, all bottled up…
He snatched up his relief again, angling the blade differently and allowing it to slash deeper, watching without feeling as more blood flowed freely. It trickled and dripped, occasionally hampered by falling water. His life ran away with every splash and he didn't care.
He felt another sob escape his throat, despite how tight he had clenched his jaw. Two tears made salty tracks down his face and rolled away, disappearing under his chin. He shook his head, holding up a shaking wrist close to the cutting edge, contemplating.
With a swift movement the blade pressed hard and hacked deeply, severing nerves and tendons, slicing at sinew and veins.
A choked sob slipped past the lump in his throat. "Mommy…"
The blood began to pool quickly, driven from his body with every beat of his heart. His eyes slipped out of focus and his features suddenly relaxed into a peaceful serene smile. "Mommy… I want my mommy… mom" he babbled, his voice slurred and nonsensical.
This was what he wanted, to leave all the pain behind to be free, to be with his mother… As the blood around him grew, tinting the earth and his clothes a dark colour, almost black in hue, he began to feel light-headed.
A golden orb appeared in front of him, slowly widening out. This was kinda nice… It felt like he was floating… The orb suddenly flashed outwards, engulfing him entirely.
"Mom…" He whispered, seeing images of Piper flash through his head. Piper in a long white dress that flowed around her figure and those opening, freckled and welcoming arms… "Mom?" He asked, questioning this time.
"Oh Sweetie… What did you do?" He heard her say, her voice filled with pain.
"I missed you…"
"I know… But not yet, huh? Stick it out a little while longer," He started to shake his head, so she added, "For me?"
Chris looked up, barely raising the strength to life his head. "I…"
"I know it's hard. I know it hurts. I lost nearly everyone I ever loved, Chris. But I love you Chris, and will never stop loving you. You're destined for great things, and then when it's all done you can come and rest. But not now, ok? It's not your time…"
Chris nodded, lulled by his mother's gentle words. She enveloped him in a cool hug, placing a kiss on his forehead and Chris closed his eyes, wishing he could stay there forever. But he had nodded, and was already feeling a warm breeze blow around his face, lifting his hair and drying his tears. And then there was a feeling of sinking, watching Piper's smiling face until she disappeared from view.
He became surrounded in the golden light that had become so familiar throughout his childhood and watched the orb dissipate, disappearing but leaving peace in its wake.
He woke up, sprawled under the tree with his teeth chattering together. Not a drop of blood was to be seen. He stirred, rubbing his eyes and putting his hand down to support himself. A prick of pain made him hiss and withdraw his palm. He had leant on the razor. He picked it up, curling a fist around it and sighing. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath.
He threw it, using telekinesis to spur it on until it was out of sight. He smiled, giving up on watching the path of his agony.
He turned away and turned a page, a page of his life, this paper crisp and new and fresh, just begging to be written on… a blank one waiting to be written on. He looked back at the tree but it was already hidden by a curtain of rain. But slowly the rain began to thin, the drops spreading out and become less heavy.
He began to trudge home, pushing dripping hair out of his eyes and shaking his head, sending spray everywhere. He moved his face into a grin, ignoring ill-used, protesting muscles and jumped, both feet first, into a puddle.
"I love you Mom," He told the air, and shoved his hands in his pocket and walked on home through the rain.
Cities grow
and rivers flow,
and where you are, I'll never know.
But I'm still here.
If you were right and I was wrong
why are you the one who's gone?
But I'm still here.
I'm still here.
**********
There, wasn't that a corny ending? Well I hope you enjoyed this is a one-shot thing. Review if ya want, the button is right there. Thanks.
Twisted Flame.