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Musicians/Music Groups Fan Fiction >> Avenged Sevenfold >> Beautiful Lies

The following is a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

 

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An Early Ending
By SteffiSevenfold

 


A/N in the beginning? That's a first.

So. Sorry it's been nearly a month since my last update.

I'm like, sdkljslfh.

Went to a local show last night and I'm a fucking wreck now.

Isn't it crazy?

How in the pit you always have this feeling of invincibility, the feeling that no matter how many times you get punched in the face, you'll be beautiful and perfect the next day….

And then the next day comes and you hurt so badly that you swear to yourself you'll never mosh again.

Then two weeks later, you roll up to another show and do it all over again.

Right now, my body's like “Never…..never again, you dumb bitch.”

But anyways. I'm just gonna roll with this chapter. If it's short, it's short. If it's long, it's long.

Haylie, if you want me to take you out of this story, then I can do that.

Cause, I donno how I would feel reading about myself o.o

So just let me know:3

And Thanks so so so much for the reviews! They mean everything!!

~GracefulSyn~ JustineJealousy- Frankie Cooper- Haylie Jaed- Shazlove661- Screaming Silence-

- - - - - - - - - - -

My fingers trace the familiar wood work of the door.

They run down the wooden frame and my bone against the grain screeches.

I grab my jaw and press it into place. It's looser than it once was.

I grab the handle of the door and twist, taking notice to the flesh hanging loosely from my forearm.

The door opens slowly and moonlight illuminates the room.

I look at both beds.

One with the brown eyed pretty boy. Brendon, I think the name was.

And the other with my sun kissed dream boy.

I hate him for what he's done to me.

I was falling for him. I was being so childlike, but he was everything to me.

I sigh angrily and walk up to his bed. Black sheets. White stains.

My fingers grab the ends of his sheet and I tug hard against the two parts.

It rips apart and I hold it firmly in my torn hands.

The cloth finds his mouth quickly and ties in the back.

My hand covers his screaming mouth just as smoothly.

My jaw in place, I hiss in his ear, “Shut the fuck up.”

And then it cracks open and I don't speak anymore.

He's in a pair of sweatpants. No shirt. No socks.

His roomie's a heavy sleeper and I sigh with relief.

I drag him forcefully towards the door, my bony finger tracing the intricate lines of his hard abs.

I close the door behind us, but Brian's foot gets stuck in the way.

I sigh and toss him to the floor, my fleshy foot holding him down by the throat.

I shut the door and lace my fingers in his hair, much like I have before.

Only this time, I tug and drag him down the hall.

His muffled screams turn me on.

We make it outside and I close my eyes, face turned to the sky, hands twined in Brian's fine locks.

I'm torn to ruins. I hate myself.

But I hate Brian even more.

I drag him to that alley where he caressed me and told me he wished we could spend a night together.

This is his wish come true, isn't it?

A night together. Brian Haner Jr. and Zacky Baker. Alone.

I press him against the building and notice for the first time that tears stain his pretty tan cheeks.

My hollow pelvis rolls against his.

When I was attractive, this would earn me a moan.

Now it earns me a terrified groan of fear and horror.

And I don't know which gets me off more.

The scandalous moans or the petrified groans.

My nearly nonexistent nose drifts across his collar.

He smells so sexy. Sweat, sweet and bitter.

My nail find his nipple and scratches down his chest.

He whimpers and I don't understand.

Why is it that a pretty boy can play rough and get shit in return, but an ugly monster can't get the same treatment?

Shallow bastards.

This angers me and my right hand rests on his hip.

My left hand grabs the side of his head and throws it to the brick wall.

A dull thud.

A sick crack.

I realize that he's unconscious and shrug, letting go of him and letting him drop to the ground.

He collapses in a heap and I kneel next to him.

I find the bleeding wound on the side of his head and my finger digs into the cut.

I tug the flesh out of the way, the muscles and veins sticking to the meat and skin I move.

I cut the veins with my nail and blood gushes from it.

It's too bloody to see and I don't want to wreck my hands already. I'm not even near the gold yet.

I rip the sweatpants easily from his body, only to find he's not wearing anything underneath.

I'm hardly worried about that. I press his sweatpants to his head and it soaks the blood right up.

More blood drifts, but the flow isn't as rushed as it once was.

His skull has a small fracture and my hand curls into a fist.

My ring finger dips into a hole in my palm when I do this.

I throw my fist down and it collides with Brian's temple.

The skull cracks and splinters and blood flows freely.

I pick away at the bone like one would pick the meat off the bone of their barbeque ribs.

Finally. Treasure. Gold.

My hand digs deep into the brain, blood oozing around it.

His blood flows in one hole of my wrist and out the other.

I grab pieces and stuff them into my mouth, moving my jaw with my hand to chew.

I swallow and it's like nothing I've ever had before.

I never thought he'd taste like this.

Indescribable. Sweet like the finest Belgium chocolate. Bitter like a pill. But together so beautiful.

I eat as much as I dare.

My finger traces lightly the contours of his once pretty face.

They outline his eye before they open his lids.

These grotesque fingers dip into his eye socket and roll behind his eyeball.

In a quick second, my finger tugs forward and the eye pops out.

I stuff it in my mouth and swallow it hole.

I grab his foot and drag his naked body to the only person I know as the devil.

Ronnie Radke.

 

The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

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