You're Gone

According to Lee they were almost done with the record. Everything had been finished.

Except for the vocals on most of the tracks.

It seemed that Oliver was having some sort of mental breakdown and was having an increasingly hard time recording the vital part to the album. Even after their trip to Lincolnshire (apparently involving some sort of ghost), and a long trip to Sweden, Oliver couldn't find it in him to get a few good takes that would be able to make it to the actual record. I blamed myself.

Oliver had flat out told me up until seeing me things in his life had been good. And I couldn't help but think his inability to properly record vocals for an album he was already stressed about was entirely my fault. And I never wanted that for him. In fact, I thought coming back to Sheffield would repair things. That seeing each other after all of that time and after everything that had happened would give us a chance to talk, to heal, to gain closure. But in reality, I was doing quite the opposite.

I was fucking everything up. Again.

And that was a difficult thing to cope with. Because I had felt like a fuck up for my whole life. Except for maybe when Oliver and I were together. And not the whole time, because it's hard to not feel like a fuck up when you're constantly strung out and all of your friends are worrying about you, but during those brief and shiny moments we had it was easy to feel invincible. Because as cliché as it sounded, in all of the chaos that surrounded our lives for that time, we were able to find comfort and safety within each other. Me especially.

Oliver had an incredible ability to make me feel complete. And that was something I had lacked for most of my life. My parents had both been fuck ups as well, much like myself. I had followed in their footsteps I suppose; I became another statistic the first time I shot up. Just another kid of a pair of drug addicts doing the only thing she had known to be normal her entire life.

I was always in and out of group homes throughout most of my childhood, lacking the stability that every kid needs if they wanted to grow up and lead a semi normal and productive life. So when I finally met Oliver and we began our tumultuous relationship, I felt loved for the very first time. I mean, sure Dylan had always been there but it was different to be in love with someone, rather than just loving your best friend. And so on that day everything was just ripped out from underneath me I was blindsided by loneliness once again. I had forgotten what it was like to be hated and unloved. I had forgotten what it was like to feel like a piece of me was missing. It all happened so fast I never really learned how to cope. Too many things had been thrown my way all at once and the only option I really had was to die or run.

And so I ran.

But now I was back again. I had reinserted myself into a life I had completely abandoned for two years without explanation. Obviously Dylan had known I was evidently and profoundly addicted to drugs, but she never knew exactly what had gone on between Oliver and I. To her, drugs had been my only reason for leaving. But I could have dealt with a rehab close to home. What I couldn't deal with was the guilt and the shame I would always associate with Sheffield, that flat, a certain room inside a certain looming building, and Oliver Sykes. I couldn't deal with seeing him so soon after he had made it so clear he never wanted to see me again. And that he blamed me for everything. And that he would never forgive me. I couldn't deal with it and so I wanted to die. But Dylan insisted that dying wasn't an option. And so I just left. Because that was easier than facing everything head on. Because Oliver was right, I was weak.

"s not yeh're fault," Lee insisted after I had divulged to him I blamed myself for Oliver's mishap. "No matter wha' 'e says 'e hasn't been tha same since yeh left. I know 'e tries to make it seem like yeh comin' back is wha' messed 'im up, but 'e's been messed up for a while now."

"I didn't 'elp, I'm sure," I sighed.

"Probably not," Lee explained gently. "But yeh can't blame yehself for 'ow someone else deals wiff somefhing."

"Why?" I asked him pathetically.

"'Cause it'll make yeh proper crazy."

Lee continued to inform me about the album, how their sound had changed, and how excited they were for everyone to hear it for a little while longer. But once he realized the time he left quickly as he was late for a studio session where the band hoped to solve their lead singer's very big problem with vocals.

"Yeh 'ave got ta stop bein' so damn depressed," Dylan told me in an all knowing manner as she cleaned up around the living room. I had been staring off into space for God knows how long since Lee had left and my thoughts were all rudely interrupted by my best friend. I glanced up at her and gave her a pensive look. "Wha'?" She asked, already knowing I had something major on my mind.

"Do yeh fhink I should listen ta them again?" I asked her.

"Listen ta who?"

"Tha band," I clarified.

"If yeh want," she shrugged. "Nofhing really too scary on Suicide Season. I dunno 'bout tha new album though. Lee said 's gonna be pretty intense as far as lyrics go, but since Oli can't seem ta sing 'em, yeh can't 'ear them yet, yeah?" She asked.

"I suppose," I nodded.

"Actually," she began, cutting herself off quickly. "There migh' be one song," she began again. "'The Sadness Will Never End," she said using air quotes. "Tha’ migh' be a little intense for yeh."

"Gimme tha record," I replied. And so she did.

I listen to the album on repeat for the rest of the day. And as I listened to it, the song Dylan had pointed out in particular, I felt everything. I had never had a song written about me, and The Sadness didn't exactly shed me in a good light. Although, I guess I didn't deserve to be. I was a drug addict and that's what he made me out to be. Memories and thoughts flooded back into my mind as the words washed over me, Oliver's screams sinking deep into every pore. The song broke me down the more I listened to it until finally a few tears managed to sneak out of my blue eyes and roll down my cheeks. I quickly wiped them away, ashamed almost. You can't stand on two fucking feet with a substance as a crutch. I wondered how often he had thought that about me when we were together. Because while he did the drugs because he enjoyed the high and was fairy addicted, I did them because I needed them. Because nothing else worked to make me feel good. Because I had absolutely nothing.

"Yeh need ta stop now," Dylan said, standing in my doorway with her hands on her hips. She looked proper annoyed. "If I 'ave ta hear Oli wail on for anofher second I'm goin' ta rip my 'air outta my 'ead."

"'s not so bad."

"Love, I've 'eard all those songs too many times ta count. 's not that it's bad, 's that I'm sick of 'earin' it," she pushed her bangs out of her eyes and smiled at me. "Whadda yeh say we go out tonigh'?" She asked, her eyes twinkling. "Nofhing too crazy, just a nice dinner an' maybe a film."

"I dunno Dyl..."

"Be ready in an hour, yeah?" She smiled, ignoring me and walking towards her bedroom.

"Dylan!" I yelled after her.

"Don't worry love, I'll help yeh pick out an outfit!"