Black Veil Brides; One Shots.

:Ashley'sPOV:

I clutched the pen in my hand, tears streaming down my cheeks and they landed on the crisp white paper, making a soft sound. Soon, more tears followed and they too, landed on the paper, some, even landed on the ink and the ink started to spread out.

I shuffled in my seat, sobs escaping from my lips. Lay before me, on the dinning room table was a bottle of pills, a razor and a necklace.

My life hasn't always been great. My mom died when I was 13 and my dad, well, he turned to drink and drugs. He drank his feelings away, injecting himself as well as drinking. Because of the drinking and the drugs, he became a totally different person. He was no longer the man I looked up too. He was no longer my idol. My 'father.'

Because he was so high and drunk, he would black out. He'd abuse me, not just mentally, but physically and emotionally. He'd spend all the money on drink and drugs, so the house was constantly cold, there was no food in the house, no nothing.

I'd cry myself to sleep every night, clutching a picture of my mom and using her dressing gown as a blanket. I'd inhale her sweet smell to help me get to sleep. I'd cry and crave for my mom every day and every night. It pained and broke me.

But, not only did I have trouble at home, school was no help either. I got bullied for the way I dressed, what music I listened to, the way I acted. I wasn't very sociable, I kept myself to myself. I'd sit alone in class, break and dinner. No one wanted to talk to me and I preferred it that way.

I remember one day, I just got through the school gates and people were laughing and pointing at me. I thought nothing of it because it happened every day and I was use to it. I then found out that the whole school knew I was gay.

Did I panic? Of course I did. I don't even know how it got out, but sure enough, it had. I got beaten up twice as much because of that. So not only was home hell, school was hell too.

After school, I'd go home to a drunken father, which was no surprise there.

At the age of 15, I lost my virginity to a stranger. My dad wanted drugs and he had no money. So, he let this complete stranger have sex with me all because he wanted drugs. It hurt like hell. I begged him to stop, the pain was intense. But he never stopped.

Soon after, my dad would let random people in the house and he'd let them have sex with me, just so he could have his daily dose of drugs and alcohol. I was no longer his son. I felt like his toy, his slave. He only needed me for his needs.

I was hurting inside. I was slowly dying inside. My life was hell and I needed something to take this pain away.

That was when I turned to cutting. I'd lock myself up in my room after a stranger would have his 'fun' with me. I'd sit in the middle of my room, the picture of my mom lay in front of me and I would cut myself. I'd watch the blood pour from each individual cut, making me feel better. As my cuts would bleed, my pain and worries would wash away from me.

But, as always, when you cut yourself, you have to try and keep it a secret. To hide them and of course, I hid them with long sleeved tops, jumpers and bracelets. People would look at me as I would wear jumpers in the summer, but who are they to judge? They know my name, no my story.

But, one day, I completely forgotten about them. My dad caught me cutting myself and he'd call me a fag, an emo. He'd say I was worthless, he'd wish I died instead of my mom and with that, he beat me. This time it was much worse than the previous beating.

I went to school, with a black eye, cut lip, cut eyebrow and a swollen lip. People would stare at me, but no one asked if I was okay or if I needed anyone.

But, soon, all that changed. He noticed how lonely I was. He noticed how hurt I was. He noticed how dead I looked. He noticed how much I craved and needed someone. And he confronted me.

I remember that day perfectly. I was sat under a tree, away from everyone. My arm was stinging from the cuts I did. I was writing lyrics in my notebook. I dreamt of being in a band. I can sing and I can play bass. I thought I was pretty good at it, but, my dad thought differently.

"Hey." I looked up to find myself staring into his crystal blue eyes. They reminded me of the ocean. He is so beautiful. So flawless, so perfect. He was popular not only with the girls but the guys too. Everyone in school wanted to be him and the girls wanted to be with him.

I don't blame them. His raven black hair, straightened to death and teased at the top, contrasted well with his porcelain skin. He was so tall too. 6 foot 2, I think. Lip pierced, and his nose too. He'd dress in black skinny jeans, combat boots and a misfits top. His eyes, lined with black.

His voice was deep and husk, making me swoon and my heart flutter. Yeah, I have a crush on the popular kid, but why was he talking to me?

"Hi." I'd mutter back, looking back at my page. He sat next to me, everyone looking at him asking him why he was talking to someone like me.

"I'm Andy."

"Yeah, I know." He'd chuckle lightly and look at me.

"And you are?"

"Ashley." He slipped two fingers under my chin, making me look into his eyes.

"That's a beautiful name for someone as beautiful as you Ash. Do you mind if I call you Ash?" I couldn't help but blush as his comment. My crush, called me beautiful.

"N-no. I-i don't m-mind." He'd smile at me and look in my eyes.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Why are you wearing a jumper in this weather. It's fucking boiling Ash." My heart stopped for a second.

"I-i.."

"Ash, I can tell that you need someone."

"Y-you can?"

"Baby, I can see it in your eyes. You're in pain." He stroked my cheek. I suddenly burst into tears. Andy pulled me close to his chest as I cling onto his top, letting it all out. I felt like I belonged to someone. I felt like I trusted Andy, so, I told him everything, even showing him both my arms, which were covered in cuts.

Months after telling him, Andy let me move in with him. We became incredibly close and one day. We kissed. It felt right to me and to him. He then asked me to be his boyfriend and I happily agreed.

Things were getting better over the years. Me and Andy started a band and we're a huge success. But, things got worse..

A few days ago, my dad phoned. I was surprised he was alive. He told me he wanted to see me. To talk to me, make things better and stupidly enough, I believed him and went to see him.

He was drunk as always. I decided that I didn't want to talk to him whilst he was drunk, but my dad thought different.

I went back home, with blood on my face, a black eye and a bruise on the bridge of my nose. Andy cleaned me up and we went to bed. He held me in his arms as I sobbed, uncontrollable, memories from my childhood came flooding back.

And here I am, writing a letter to my beloved Andy. Telling him that he didn't need me. That he's better of without me. To be strong for when I'm gone.

I put the letter in the envelope and sealed it. I hastily wiped away my tears as I grabbed my razor.
I placed it against my wrist, letting out a hiss from the pain and a sigh of relief. I cut deep, watching as my blood poured from my cut. I began to feel light headed, so I grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels and the pills.

I managed to tip some in my hands. About eight pills lay in my hand. I threw them in my mouth and swallowed them with the whiskey.

I grabbed the necklace Andy gave me on our first date and I smiled as I looked at it. I sat on the floor clutching the necklace as my vision started to blur. This is it, I'm going to die.

No more pain. Just peace.

I lay down as my eyes felt heavy and began to close.

"Goodbye Andy. My fallen angel." And with that, I drifted into a deep sleep...