|| O.pen || Num.b

[aubrey rein dechanté]

T e l l M e I ' m

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( F R O Z E N )[/center]

B u t W h a t C a n I D o ?

Nothing ever seemed to hold purpose within itself anymore. Nothing ever seemed to move the boy to the point of motivation; he didn’t know why, but it just never happened. It was always a fight with life, and at this point, Aubrey was tired. He was so tired of hearing “you’re not good enough” or “you need to practice more” from his mother, that it was driving him crazy. He could hear her high pitched, shrill and frankly bitchy tone repeating itself in his head. So it must have been hard to predict what the boy did to drown it out; he practiced. Hours on top of hours, it was just one song after the next, and it never seemed to stop. He played through pages and pages and booklets of music, searching for something, anything that would make the voice of the person he despised so much go away. But it was difficult. The harder he played and the more the tune of his music seemed to flow out and drip inside the auditorium, the louder his mother got. He was able to pick out every flaw inside his music; inside himself. He could see clearly, like a light was being shone onto a pile of mistakes, what exactly was wrong with every single note he played. It was too long. It was too short. It was too loud. It was too soft. He couldn’t really appreciate anything that came out of his music, though he wished, if just for a minute, a second; he could. But it was all a fruitless effort. His brain was trained and his ears obeyed, picking apart and savagely ripping his music to shreds. He didn’t know why he did it, he didn’t know how he did it; but he did.

His fingers were wounded and bleeding, but he didn’t care. It was a smell all too familiar for Aubrey, and as the creamy metallic liquid dripped down the fingerboard of his cello; he noticed something. He noticed it right when the scent of rust finally registered within his dormant mind. He didn’t…care, at all, that he was bleeding. There was no pain. There was no feeling. There was simply…him. It was such an odd feeling, one that could be considered unnerving, but not for the small boy. He didn’t seem to notice the blood, only the smell hinted him to it, otherwise he probably wouldn’t have even bothered to look for its existence. The black fingerboard looked as though it was crying; the droplets of red streaked its features like a tear stained face. There, once more, brought Aubrey to notice something. He wasn’t crying. He didn’t seem to feel much of anything when he played…sort of like he was in a void. He was inside some type of room, somewhere deep inside his mind, and it was a room he couldn’t get out of. It was a room where everything was silent and there wasn’t a sound lingering in the ever present asylum. In a way, someone could easily describe Aubrey as insane, crazy; it wasn’t very hard. He heard the voice of his mother when she was half way across the country, was it normal? Was it acceptable? It was normal for Aubrey, it was acceptable for Aubrey; but the people he was surrounded by every day of his life? Oh no, no, it was not acceptable to them in the least bit. They would label Aubrey the second anyone knew about it. They would break him down and torment him about it, which is why he didn’t tell anyone. He never uttered a word of his…occurrences, to a soul, and he liked it that way.

Aubrey didn’t think of himself as crazy though. In his mind, the boy was just…just Aubrey. There were no labels to him. There was no one labeling him a musician. There was no one labeling him gay. It was just simply a void inside his mind, really. It was funny. He didn’t tell anyone anything about this. He didn’t let people in. He didn’t trust people with this. Yeah, ok, some people can consider him selfish of whatever, but in the end he really was not. Aubrey was being selfish in the sense that he didn’t want his life ruined by these…these ingrates that he acted civil with. Honestly, who needs someone who wears their pants below their ass to know all of these things about themselves? No one, really. Aubrey highly doubted that people in this school actually told the truth to each other. It was just something that didn’t seem…plausible to him. What would they gain? Who would it help? The answer was no one, and everyone in this school did something because they could get something from it. It was the way of life, and Aubrey had learned to accept it very quickly when he had ventured to the foreign academy.

And so when the stench of blood became too overbearing on the boy’s nose, he felt it wrinkle before he sighed, stopping mid piece. He placed the cello down onto the floor as he looked at his left hand. An expression of shock and horrification appeared on the boy’s features. His fingers were torn and ripped and bleeding profusely. How did he not notice this? How did he not see it? Aubrey simply shook his head before sighing once more and grabbing a napkin to dab them before getting up. It was his lunch period, so he could easily go to the bathroom and do what he needed to as of now.

The boy grimaced at the idea of leaving the auditorium, and stood, planted in the ground he stood on.

He really didn’t want to leave.

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I n T h e E n d

I Did It For You

I just feel the cold-- 957 words
I can feel your sorrow-- Open
Everything will slip away-- lyrics credit to Within Temptation
Shattered pieces will remain-- thread template credit to Moi