One Fumbled Touch

William's P.O.V

I can always remember this one day in my head perfectly. I was about six years old and me and my mother were watching the news in our living room. I was sat on her knee and she was cuddling me but then a story came on the Tv and I burst into tears. This horrid man had murdered someone and I thought it was the most horrific thing ever. My mum reassured me I would never be part of anything like that and I was the most perfect little boy ever. So I gave her a hug and ran upstairs to go snuggle my teddy bear. I never knew that I would actually become everything I hated when I was little, I laid in my mothers arms and listened to her tell me how wonderful I was. Either she lied to me or I'm just a sick human being.

When I left the church I was scared out of my mind, what if Brendon rung for the police, I would be locked in a cell, wishing that I could be with my mum again being an innocent six year old. What would little William think of me, he would do more than cry he would hide under his bed quilts every night scared to death that I would come into his room and kill him. I always tried to think positively when I was in high school I had this terrible case of acne and it was photo day, but I just went with a huge smile on my face and ignored the rude comments. I thought I was a optimist. Now what's all I can see is the dark side leaking with hate and disgust.

I'm sat in my car, fingers clinging onto the steering wheel like I'm some sort of lunatic. I feel the sweat trickling down the nape of my neck as I shuffle around in the seat uncomfortably. It's like the alcohol is calling me, begging for it to slip down my throat leaving that oh so perfect bitter taste in my mouth. I resist the urge though and turn on the radio instead, maybe some good old tunes will calm my nerves. I press in the button and lean back in my seat, slowly shutting my eyes.

"Is it still me that makes you sweat?"

Oh fucking hell, why oh bloody why are Panic At The Disco on the radio. Anybody but them! I switch off the radio at an instant, my fingertips reach out and skim across the cool bottles behind me. Just a quick drink, what harm could that do. I grasp onto one of the bottles confidently, staring at it with my wide eyes. I think I'm still drunk, I guess walking out of the church and falling into a bush proves that. I stare at the heavenly liquid sloshing around the bottle and feel my stomach churn.

I mean why would Brendon do this to me, he knows what it feels like to be hurt and I don't mean just mentally. Ryan beat him, reduced him to a sobbing mess on the floor. So why start a fight with me! What is he going to gain from attacking me like I something he just stood on. He has a new fuck buddy, why does he have to flaunt that in my face. I'm crying now the salty tears stinging my flustered cheeks. I use the back of my sleeve to wipe them away, I'm not freaked out when I realize my face is still bleeding. Does he want me to kill myself, does he want me to die inside whenever I think about him.

Wait a minute.

Does he want me to kill myself.

That's it! That's how I will punish myself from killing Ryan. He died, I die. Its a simple as that. I detest myself, I'm lonely, pathetic, an alcoholic and I practically raped an underage girl. What's the point in being in this cruel, cruel world, it hurts just waking up on a morning and knowing Brendon wont be there. It hurts so bad and I cant take it anymore. I start up the car and speed out of the church knowing very well the nobody will come looking for me, after my little performance I doubt anyone will talk to me again. Well I don't need friends when I'm rotting in hell!

I'm trying to think of ways to kill myself what are simple and quick. I'm not going to torture myself, even if I probably would deserve that. Overdose? Gun to the head? Driving off a cliff... Oh that would work, I could blast Panic At The Disco out of the stereo and drive into paradise. I'd be dead and my heart would stop bleeding and the pain would disappear. I feel numb with anticipation when I drive speedily down the road, getting faster and faster with every thought of me dead at the bottom of a cliff. Brendon would be happy, he has his new boyfriend and he can ruin my funeral if he wants. Just think William, no more Brendon, no guilt, no pain, no Jessica. Why have I never thought about this before!

I'm in the middle of nowhere now, the road is desolate, I'm just a broken soul living my last moments in peace. A small smile tugs at my lips but I still don't feel right. The tears are falling fast and thick and I'm finding harder to breathe. Each sharp intake of breath sends another pain through my chest and my head starts spinning. But I keep on driving, knowing that I would not feel any of this when I was zooming to my death in a heartbeat.

I look ahead and notice the road is getting slimmer, but still I see no cliffs, no nothing. Just dust and random birds soaring through the murky skies. I stop the car, defeated, and sigh gently to myself. I get out of my car to get a better look at my surroundings. My eyes scan around the nothingness and I feel sick. That's all I feel. Sick with guilt. Sick with pain. Sick of living. There is no way I can drive my trusty car off a cliff, if there is no cliff to drive off! But I get a sudden brainwave why not just throw myself in front of car, then I could thank the person who killed me when I'm a ghost and floating around in peace. I stand at the side of the road practicing chucking myself into the dust pathway.

Its just a waiting game, I've waited long enough for Brendon so now I will wait for my death. I hope a BMW hits me or something cool like that, well a man can wish can't he.