Suicide Silence

I planned my death carefully; unlike my life, which meandered along from one
thing to another, despite my feeble attempts to control it. As a child I had tried to stop
my parents divorce with no luck, as a teen I had tried to fight depression and woo the
girl of my dreams, again with no success. I couldn’t even control my own career.
Just when I thought Aaron and The Likes were done for, we had hit it off. Almost
overnight we went from a fan base that consisted of a few dedicated people from our
home town, to hundreds of thousands of people across the country.
Who would’ve guessed that one bloggers mention of us could make so many
people search us on Youtube? They liked us too, which is what had surprised me the
most. We weren’t for everyone, that was for sure. I wrote most of our lyrics, so our
songs reflected my life experiences. Depressive, lovesick, punk music. Not your typical
bubblegum pop group who’s lyrics are empty but catchy.
Aaron and The Likes was the lovechild of my high schools punk clique and the
mandatory music classes which were forced upon us. In a way, we should have been
thanking them. Music became our escape, my escape. In grade nine we had all been
outcasts, brought together because we were shunned by everyone else.
For some of us, the music came easier than others. Caleb Saunders with his
brown curls that went to his ears, and green eyes, and the sweetest disposition
possible, had been playing guitar since he was big enough to hold one. We had been
best friends for as long as we could remember. He had always been a shy nerd, who
turned punk shortly after I had. Thats the way we were, I always lead, and he followed.
In these mandatory music classes (which he had tutored me in) we were
introduced to our new partners in crime and fellow out casts, Klyde Derveaux and
Greg Kowalawicz. Klyde, with his chin length, pin straight, black hair, brown eyes, and
a smile that could charm any girl out of her pants, had picked up a bass guitar and
played by ear. Greg stood out, with short, wavy, blond hair and blue eyes, the only
ways to tell he was one of us were the piercings and leather jacket. He had sat in front
of the drums determined to succeed.
We were all comfortable with each other, our being different making us band
together, quite literally. I had started writing songs as soon as I had some basic chords
to work with. Everyone else caught on when Greg found my songbook. He was always
the joker and trouble maker of our group. He kept us alert and made life interesting.
Klyde had put a bass line to it, Caleb had added more complex chords and a guitar
solo, and Greg eventually agreed to put a rhythm to it. Our first song was born, and so
was our band.
I, Aaron Simms as lead singer and rhythm guitarist, my sidekick, Caleb Sunders
on lead guitar and backup vocals. Klyde Derveaux on bass guitar and backup vocals,
and of course, Greg Kowalawicz on drums.
From then on our hang out times weren’t as much about video games as they
were about writing and rehearsing songs. We played a few school talent shows, but
eventually resorted to Youtube because, as previously mentioned, we aren’t for
everyone.
Youtube helped us get our big break. A famous music blogger had stumbled onto
one of out Pierce The Veil covers, and posted about us. We then got thousands of
views, comments and subscribers.
Soon after that we were signed to a small record label, Wonderlust Records.
From there, we started playing summer Warped Tour, then we went on our first real
tour, opening for Sleeping With Sirens. The winter after our second Warped Tour, is
when I met her.
“Who is she?” you may ask. Well, she is the reason I’m planning my death, she is
the reason I’m here. “Where is here?” is another question you’re probably wondering.
If I knew, I’d be one step closer to getting out of this hell hole.
All I know is that its somewhere on the outskirts of Baltimore. A run down suburb,
maybe? But I can only guess. Baltimore’s where I met her, the signing we had there.
That was six months ago. Since then, I’ve been here in the basement of this run
down house. Or most of the time I’ve spent down here. She used to let me upstairs,
make me breakfast and coffee, cuddle and watch movies, like she was my significant
other. That was before I tried to escape. Escape from here, escape from her.
She took me after the signing. I wasn’t feeling right. I was light headed, had
blurred vision, and felt more drowsy and run down than usual. She must’ve slipped
something into my root beer, while I was signing her CD, it was the only thing I could
think of.
After I had signed a few hundred pieces of merchandise with the rest of the band,
we were done. I escaped out the back to get some fresh air and clear my head. She
came out of nowhere, and said my lyrics saved her life.
I knew the feeling, I had been like her. The scars she showed me mirrored my
own. I remembered when I was the one going up to my idols after their shows and
appearances, telling them how much their music meant to me. I thought of the time I
met Mitch Lucker, and told him how his lyrics saved me. Or when management first
told me I was going to be touring with my idols during Warped Tour.
I tried to get over the developing nausea, and concentrate on her, when my legs
gave out. I felt her drag me to a vehicle, then I blacked out. I woke up here.

I freaked out for days, so she kept me locked in this room in the basement.
Eventually I gave in and cooperated.
A few times she had the radio on loud enough, and I heard news on the search
for the missing rockstar. Reports became shorter and less frequent, then they stopped
all together.
Or so I thought. Yesterday I heard one for the first time in months. It was the six
month anniversary of my abduction, and the local radio station dedicated the day to
me. They played Aaron and The LIkes, along with some of my favourite bands, all day.
They interviewed the guys; Caleb, Klyde and Greg. They even talked to my girlfriend,
Jasey.
They said that they hadn’t given up hope in finding me, or having me come back.
There were theories that I had fled to Mexico on an extended vacation because I
couldn’t handle the pressure of the fame. They said police had stopped searching due
to lack of new evidence, on top of the almost non existent evidence they had to start
with.
Thats what had done it. Knowing that no one was looking for me. Knowing no
one was going to find me. Realizing that this psychopath was going to live out her
fantasies with me whether I liked it or not. I realized I’d never see my loved ones again,
never live out my dreams, I’d be stuck here forever. That was when I decided to plan
my death, suicide was my only option, the only way I could control my fate.
Today, today was the day I would go through with this plan. I wasn’t sure how, but
there were tons of options. Bed sheets can be made into rope, then into a noose, or I
could just refuse to eat and die slowly.
I stared into the small mirror that was hanging on the concrete wall, my paler than
usual complexion stared back. The shoulder length black hair that used to have slight
waves and a nice shine to it was now greasy and plastered to my face and neck with
sweat. My blue eyes didn’t shine like they used to, when I had something to live for.
Now they were empty and clouded, like my soul was lost in a dense fog.
Looking down, my tattooed arms seemed even more scrawny than usual. I
looked at the last tattoo I’d gotten, it hadn’t been filled. It was just the empty shell of our
band logo, a cartoon pig, with a snake around its neck in the shape of a noose. I was
supposed to get it finished the day after the signing, so were the rest of the boys. We
all had them, it was a band and crew thing.
It just reminded me I would never see them again. The longer I was here, the less
likely it was that I would be located and rescued. They’d given up anyways, thought I’d
run off to Mexico.
I took a deep breath and looked at myself, thinking of Jasey now. We had just
started to get serious, right before all this. I cared about her so much, wondered if she
had moved on. Our tour manager, Dex Bryan, had his eye on her before I asked her
out. If I couldn’t make her happy, I’d want him to.
It made me so mad, that everything had been taken away from me right when I
was at my happiest. I let the anger take over me for just a second and punched the
mirror with all I had. I rarely got violent, but when I did I always had a damn good
reason to be.
The mirror shattered to pieces and fell to the floor by my feet. I felt blood dripping
off my left hand, my knuckles were bleeding. I picked a splinter of glass out of my index
finger, and as it fell to the floor, I saw the bigger shards laying around.
I picked up a piece and ran my thumb along the edge. It’d be so easy, too easy
almost, and fast when compared to starving myself. I took one last deep breath and
looked at the partial reflection of my face in the piece of what used to be a mirror.
I put the shard up to my wrist and cut. It hurt about as much as I had expected. I
was almost immediately light headed, and heard a buzzing noise. It seemed to get
louder, and was joined by an alarm of some sort. Hallucinations, I was dying quickly. I
imagined the noises to be my rescuers, finally here to save me.
I heard a bang upstairs, and I knew death had a tight grasp on me. I was curled
up on the floor in what was rapidly becoming a pool of my own blood. I saw the light,
and the outline of a figure. I guess death wasn’t so bad after all.
I felt hands on me, heard my name. I felt pressure on my wrist, and my neck.
“He’s alive, barely.”
Maybe it hadn’t been a hallucination, I was alive, I had been found. Knowing that
I was in safe hands, I let consciousness slide away from me, and the blackness took
over.