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wolfanficsTitle: Afraid Behind Your Barricade
Author: sashataakheru
Fandom: No Doubt RPS
Starring: Tom Dumont, Tony Kanal, Gwen Stefani, Adrian Young
Pairing: Tom/Tony
Parts: one
Warnings: suicide, self-harming, drug use etc
Disclaimer: Not true in any way, shape or form.
Author's Notes: Second part of 'The Final Attempt'
Summary: Tony's POV. Tony's life is spirallying out of control and he ponders ending his life once and for all.
Afraid Behind Your Barricade
You come home smashed, angrier than you’ve ever been, wanting nothing more than to smash her face a million times for everything she’s ever done to you. No one knows how you suffer, no one understands. You keep it all to yourself because you know they won’t believe you if you tried to make them understand. You keep it all to yourself because you don’t want them to know how it terrifies you.
You crumble into oblivion, falling further, deeper, into yourself, hiding behind your shell of normalcy, pretending it’s all a game, that there’s nothing wrong, desperately trying to cling to your sanity as you fill your veins with cocaine, your stomach with alcohol, your mind with terror and screaming.
You know they pretend not to notice. You know they’re not stupid. You know they can see you’re in trouble, but you stop them. You don’t want their sympathy. You don’t want them to try and pretend you’ve just had too much, that you’re high and your imagination is running away with your nightmares.
They hate me. She makes them hate me. Traitors. Fuck them all.
You know they can never understand what you go through every night, know they can never know what it feels like to have her abuse you, rape you, torture you, use you as if you were nothing but a doll.
So, you hide away, put up an iron wall, a barricade to your heart, shrink away into your shell, never let them know you’re hurting, never let them know you desperately want them to help you, never show your weakness because you don’t want to show her she’s getting to you.
If I show them I’m hurting, they’ll think I’m weak. I don’t want them to think I’m weak.
Your brain aches for the drug, your head aching and sweating. You collapse on the floor as the cocaine disappears inside you, sighing as all the pain fades away for the moment. Your mind goes blank, your hand strays inside your pants, your world shrinks til your happiness is the only thing that matters.
All you ask is for one evening of peace, one evening just like every other, getting smashed and high, forgetting yourself, trying to ignore the scars on your body.
You barely sleep, you barely eat, and days pass by in a flash of colour, your mind waiting for the night when you can escape. How you get through every day, you’re never quite sure. All you care about is when you can escape.
Every so often you binge, locking yourself away in your flat, shooting as much cocaine as you can get your hands on, drinking as much as you can afford, trying to keep that high, trying to forget, trying to flee a world that hates you.
This fame has ruined you like she has, cocaine all too readily available along with the funds to pay for it. You wonder if your best friends ever notice, whether they can see how you’re hooked on it, how your eyes have lost themselves. But, you don’t care because you know they can’t help you.
You want everything to fade to black, to leave forever, anything to bring some small ounce of peace to your tortured soul. You get what you want and then some, too drunk to realise you’ve been ripped off, too drunk to care.
Staggering home, you walk in on your private nightmare, her voice screaming at you in your head, tears dripping like nails in your coffin. The mess doesn’t matter. Nothing matters now. You come to the source of your pain, seeing the instrument of your torture.
The tears fall like a torrent, washing your soul away. There’s no point hiding now. The cold steel bites into your skin, taking away shame, punishing you for being so weak and helpless. You know you deserve it. You know she’s right.
You get ready to end it all, to sleep forever, to finally escape a world gone wrong, when she comes to you. She taunts you one final time, punishes you for giving in and taking the easy way out. You hate that she’ll be the one who kills you. You hate that she’s the one giving you the cocaine, thrusting it through your chest, into your blood, heart, mind, body…
The pain… stabbing pain… cocaine rushing to your brain, rushing around your body, overtaking you, drowning you.
You lie there as your eyes close to darkness, feeling your body going cold, feeling paralysed, giving up your will to live. You don’t care anymore. You let the pain go, let yourself go, find yourself floating towards the most blissful peace imaginable.
Nothing matters anymore. Bring me that sweet, sweet peace…
Author: sashataakheru
Fandom: No Doubt RPS
Starring: Tom Dumont, Tony Kanal, Gwen Stefani, Adrian Young
Pairing: Tom/Tony
Parts: one
Warnings: suicide, self-harming, drug use etc
Disclaimer: Not true in any way, shape or form.
Author's Notes: Second part of 'The Final Attempt'
Summary: Tony's POV. Tony's life is spirallying out of control and he ponders ending his life once and for all.
Afraid Behind Your Barricade
You come home smashed, angrier than you’ve ever been, wanting nothing more than to smash her face a million times for everything she’s ever done to you. No one knows how you suffer, no one understands. You keep it all to yourself because you know they won’t believe you if you tried to make them understand. You keep it all to yourself because you don’t want them to know how it terrifies you.
You crumble into oblivion, falling further, deeper, into yourself, hiding behind your shell of normalcy, pretending it’s all a game, that there’s nothing wrong, desperately trying to cling to your sanity as you fill your veins with cocaine, your stomach with alcohol, your mind with terror and screaming.
You know they pretend not to notice. You know they’re not stupid. You know they can see you’re in trouble, but you stop them. You don’t want their sympathy. You don’t want them to try and pretend you’ve just had too much, that you’re high and your imagination is running away with your nightmares.
They hate me. She makes them hate me. Traitors. Fuck them all.
You know they can never understand what you go through every night, know they can never know what it feels like to have her abuse you, rape you, torture you, use you as if you were nothing but a doll.
So, you hide away, put up an iron wall, a barricade to your heart, shrink away into your shell, never let them know you’re hurting, never let them know you desperately want them to help you, never show your weakness because you don’t want to show her she’s getting to you.
If I show them I’m hurting, they’ll think I’m weak. I don’t want them to think I’m weak.
Your brain aches for the drug, your head aching and sweating. You collapse on the floor as the cocaine disappears inside you, sighing as all the pain fades away for the moment. Your mind goes blank, your hand strays inside your pants, your world shrinks til your happiness is the only thing that matters.
All you ask is for one evening of peace, one evening just like every other, getting smashed and high, forgetting yourself, trying to ignore the scars on your body.
You barely sleep, you barely eat, and days pass by in a flash of colour, your mind waiting for the night when you can escape. How you get through every day, you’re never quite sure. All you care about is when you can escape.
Every so often you binge, locking yourself away in your flat, shooting as much cocaine as you can get your hands on, drinking as much as you can afford, trying to keep that high, trying to forget, trying to flee a world that hates you.
This fame has ruined you like she has, cocaine all too readily available along with the funds to pay for it. You wonder if your best friends ever notice, whether they can see how you’re hooked on it, how your eyes have lost themselves. But, you don’t care because you know they can’t help you.
You want everything to fade to black, to leave forever, anything to bring some small ounce of peace to your tortured soul. You get what you want and then some, too drunk to realise you’ve been ripped off, too drunk to care.
Staggering home, you walk in on your private nightmare, her voice screaming at you in your head, tears dripping like nails in your coffin. The mess doesn’t matter. Nothing matters now. You come to the source of your pain, seeing the instrument of your torture.
The tears fall like a torrent, washing your soul away. There’s no point hiding now. The cold steel bites into your skin, taking away shame, punishing you for being so weak and helpless. You know you deserve it. You know she’s right.
You get ready to end it all, to sleep forever, to finally escape a world gone wrong, when she comes to you. She taunts you one final time, punishes you for giving in and taking the easy way out. You hate that she’ll be the one who kills you. You hate that she’s the one giving you the cocaine, thrusting it through your chest, into your blood, heart, mind, body…
The pain… stabbing pain… cocaine rushing to your brain, rushing around your body, overtaking you, drowning you.
You lie there as your eyes close to darkness, feeling your body going cold, feeling paralysed, giving up your will to live. You don’t care anymore. You let the pain go, let yourself go, find yourself floating towards the most blissful peace imaginable.
Nothing matters anymore. Bring me that sweet, sweet peace…
