PROMPT: Jinxx finds Andy cutting and they write ‘Saviour’ together to help him through when he finds that times are tough.
He shut his eyes tightly at the sudden wave of pain that overcame his entire body. It was only once in a blue moon an urge such as this consumed his soul, but when it did, Andy was left with no choice but to accept defeat. It was much more common during his years in school. But after he graduated it started coming less and less frequently. There was even a time where he once thought it would never come again. But it did, and there was no stopping that razor from touching his skin. He placed a tight grip on the edge of the kitchen sink to keep from falling over and trying to prevent the pain from coursing to other places. Little lines of deep red colored liquid trickled down his arms from various open wounds. After years of practice, he became so skilled in making the infliction’s appear as simple as gashes received from walking through the woods. Unfortunately, moving to Los Angeles meant no woods, and no other legitimate excuses for the scars that decorated his arms.
Sometimes they would be other places, however. Places the naked eye wouldn’t see often. Like his chest and stomach, or even his legs. Sometimes, though it was much more difficult, he would find a way to create these marks all along his back and sides. To him, it was a matter of locating the perfect place on his body too release the pain more than causing the actual harm itself. But he was careful, despite what most would assume. He never cut too deep, but he did create more than the average person would. The sleeves of his black sweater were rolled up as far as they would go. His muscular arms were flexed in attempts to stop the bleeding. Tears ran down his face, stinging his eyes. Andy knew that within a matter of minutes they would be just as red as the blood.
Why? He asked himself. Why do I always do this?
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. The sound broke Andy from his inner thoughts, and forced him back into the world of reality. After clearing his throat, he asked, “Who’s there?”
"Its me," a familiar voice answered.
Andy knew the voice right away to be his band mate, Jinxx. “Hey man, my place is a mess.” He called. “Just let me clean it up real quick.” Without hesitation, he created a final line from his wrist to his elbow. It was much, much deeper than the others, and Andy wasn’t sure whether he did it on purpose or not. Blood spilled from the open wound like a flood, spilling onto the sink and the floor. “Shit,” he whispered, grabbing a hand towel and pressing it to his arm.
"Andy?" Jinxx knocked softly on the door.
"Just a minute!" Andy called as he quickly threw all utensils into a dirty tool box on the floor beside the sink. Without thinking, he kicked the tool box against the far wall and quickly left to open the door. Cautious of his arms, he pulled the sleeves of his sweater down and crossed them just to be extra careful. He opened the door and took a step back to let his friend in, a smile on his face. "Come on in."
"Thanks," Jinxx studied Andy carefully, already noticing something was off. "Why are you wearing a sweater? Its almost ninety degrees outside."
"Its cold in here," Andy answered quickly, shivering. Jinxx turned and checked the thermostat. "Well, no wonder. You have this thing set to forty. Christ, Andy. Are you trying to catch a cold or something?" He readjusted the settings, then proceeded towards the couch. "So I was thinking about the new song. I think it should be a slow tune, you know? To show that we’re not entirely about rock n’ roll, but music in general…"
As Jinxx continued talking, Andy slowly began to slip into a state of unconsciousness. These wounds were deep, and the blood hadn’t stopped flowing. He grabbed ahold of the wall to steady himself, taking deep, slow breaths. With every passing second, he fell closer and closer to the ground, until soon his body became to much weight to hold. Andy collapsed beside the couch, instinctively curling into a ball.
"Holy shit, Andy!" Jinxx exclaimed, jumping from the couch and approaching his band mate. "What’s wrong?" When Andy didn’t answer, Jinxx examined him from head to toe. Because he wasn’t aware of what spilled from beneath the sleeves of Andy’s shirt, he automatically assumed there was nothing physically wrong with his band mate. So, he lifted him to his feet and guided him towards the couch. "Maybe you’re dehydrated. Have you had anything to drink today?" Jinxx asked, placing a hand to Andy’s forehead. "Fuck. You’re burning up. Hold on, let me go in the kitchen and find a thermometer."
Because he was only barely conscious, everything that Jinxx had been saying was registering late inside Andy’s mind. By the time he heard the word ‘kitchen’ it was too late. “No…wait…Jinxx…don’t go—”
But Jinxx had already come back - an open tool box in his hands. “Andy,” he stated, pulling one of the razors from inside the box. It was rusted with dry blood, but still dotted with a few fresh drops.
"I…" Andy couldn’t talk. It took so much energy just to make up a believable lie—energy he no longer possessed.
"Let me see your arm." Jinxx demanded, dropping the blade back into the box and setting the box on the floor. He grabbed for Andy’s arm, but he pulled back just in time. "Andy this isn’t a fucking joke! Let me see your goddamn arm." At last, he was successful. Taking a seat on the couch beside his friend, Jinxx pulled the sleeve back. It caused fresh pain to course through Andy’s arm due to the material being stuck to the flesh from the dried blood. He examined the wounds with a disappointed sigh, then repeated the steps with his other arm. "Well, luckily you won’t need stitches. About another half-inch or so, and you probably would have bled out if I hadn’t caught you in time."
Andy didn’t speak a word as his band mate left the living room a second time, then returned a few minutes later with a wet wash rag in his hand. Quietly, without speaking a word, he cleaned Andy’s arms until there was nothing but wounds visible.
"Care to explain your story?" Jinxx asked while he worked on the second arm.
"I wasn’t trying to kill myself," Andy defended.
"Then what were you doing?"
"I just…" Andy sighed. "Whenever I get depressed about something, I do this. But I never mean too."
"Fuck that shit, Andy!" Jinxx exclaimed. "Anyone can just sit there and say they don’t mean too. But if you don’t then who did it? Last I checked, you control your body, no one else." He knew that yelling wasn’t the answer, but he’s never been good at responding rationally in a situation like this. Though, he was trying his very best. He sighed and continued, "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you."
There was a moment of silence filled with nothing but the sound of their breathing, until Andy softly began singing a tune. “I never meant to be the one who kept you from the dark, but now I know my wounds are sewn because of who you are…”
Jinxx looked up at his friend. “What did you say?” He asked.
Andy lifted his head as he thought back on the words he sang. “Their lyrics.” He said, quickly grabbing a legal pad and a pen. He wrote them down, then continued placing words together in his mind, before written them down as well, then showing Jinxx.
After reading them, he looked up at Andy and smiled. “This is perfect!” He took the pad and pen, then started adding to it. By the time he was finished, they had a first verse and a chorus written out. While Jinxx worked on the melody, Andy wrote more lyrics. Even though his arms were now decorated with fresh, bulging scars, none of it mattered. This song would surely be a hit.
Within the next hour, their song was complete. Andy and Jinxx sat back on the couch, reading over the lyrics before Andy asked, “What should we call it?”
After a moment of personal thought, Jinxx came up with the title: “Saviour.”