Fences [1/1]
A/N: Once again, I have written a boredom oneshot, although there was quite a bit of prompting on it. I AM still working on my chaptered fic, however I haven't heard from Nancy recently. So I am terribly sorry for not updating there. This story is in the POV of Hayley Williams from Paramore, with a mention of Ryan Ross from PATD. Before you ask, it's set in a mental hospital. I don't know why they're in there, but whatever reason, it was a mistake. So they escape. It is loosely based on Fences by Paramore. Anyway. Enjoy.
This story is all my own work. I do not own Hayley Williams or Ryan Ross. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.
Fences
I'm sitting in a room
Made up of only big white walls.
Two months I had been there.
Two months it had been like death.
Two months it had been worse than death.
Two months, and I was crazier than ever.
I was alone.
I had not talked to anyone.
I had not looked at anyone.
I sat in my room, staring at the impossibly clean white wall.
Everything was white.
Everything was spotless.
Everything was cold.
Everything was somehow crooked, not right.
Monotony. Every day the same. Every night the same. Every meal, word and action the same.
Fences keeping me in.
I wanted out.
But there's a reason they keep all sharp objects away.
And in the halls there are people looking through
The window in the door.
Inspection time. Or visiting hours.
Family members strolling past.
Family members offering pity.
Family members ignoring us.
Family members who should be in here with us.
Doctors peering at us.
Doctors prodding us.
Doctors analysing us.
Doctors are human too.
Mistakes. That's what got us all in here.
Mistakes. A slip of the tongue.
Mistakes. The path of a blade, the barrel of a gun.
Mistakes. They got the wrong girl.
Life. Slipping past me. I only noticed how little there is, when I was wasting it away. Gone.
Fences keeping me in.
I wanted out.
But there's a reason no one visits me.
They know exactly what we're here for
Don't look up, just let them think
There's no place else you'd rather be.
Justice. Supposedly what I got. Wrong, all wrong.
I sat in my room, staring, motionless.
I sat in my room, wasting away.
I sat in my room, going insane.
I sat in my room. Then I saw those eyes.
A boy, no older than myself.
A boy, whom I had never met.
A boy, who was stuck with me.
A boy, who saved me.
A month later and we're close friends.
A month later and we try to escape.
A month later and we're brought back in.
A month later and we decide.
Pain. It was good, but we needed style. That style was his idea. That style was Ryan's idea.
Fences keeping me in.
I wanted out.
But there's a reason I fell in love.
And It's obvious that you're dying, dying
Just living proof that the camera's lying.
Plans. They're made to be carried out.
The cameras. They were always there.
The cameras. They never saw the medication slowly disappearing.
The cameras. They never showed us, our love.
The cameras. They showed the deaths instead.
Death was good.
Death was an escape from monotony.
Death was a lover's agreement.
Death was noticeable, when we did it.
Pills. Hundreds of them.
Pills. Ground up, disguised.
Pills. In the kitchens.
Pills. In the food.
Suicide. It's one thing. Homicide is another.
Fences keeping me in.
I wanted out.
But there's a reason we did it.
And oh, oh, open wide, 'cause this is your night
So smile.
Murder. Wrong, I know.
Life. A wonderful, colourful, happy thing.
Life. So beautiful, yet so meaningless.
Life. So fragile.
Life. So easy to take.
Statistics. Cold, hard evidence.
Statistics. Impersonal, unusable.
Statistics. Twenty hospitalised.
Statistics. Eighty-two dead.
Power. To please.
Power. To amaze.
Power. To give.
Power. To take.
A smile. So simple, so powerful.
The fences were gone.
But there are reasons I did it.
'Cause you'll go out in style.
Everything. Nothing. Family. Doctors.
Mistakes.
A boy. Pain. Style.
Death.
The cameras. Death. Pills. Suicide.
Homicide.
Statistics. Power. Life.
Love.
A/N: Okay, so what did you think? Comments and creative criticisms are welcome as usual, and if you don't get what happened here, leave me a comment and I'll attempt to explain.
This story is all my own work. I do not own Hayley Williams or Ryan Ross. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.
Fences
I'm sitting in a room
Made up of only big white walls.
Two months I had been there.
Two months it had been like death.
Two months it had been worse than death.
Two months, and I was crazier than ever.
I was alone.
I had not talked to anyone.
I had not looked at anyone.
I sat in my room, staring at the impossibly clean white wall.
Everything was white.
Everything was spotless.
Everything was cold.
Everything was somehow crooked, not right.
Monotony. Every day the same. Every night the same. Every meal, word and action the same.
Fences keeping me in.
I wanted out.
But there's a reason they keep all sharp objects away.
And in the halls there are people looking through
The window in the door.
Inspection time. Or visiting hours.
Family members strolling past.
Family members offering pity.
Family members ignoring us.
Family members who should be in here with us.
Doctors peering at us.
Doctors prodding us.
Doctors analysing us.
Doctors are human too.
Mistakes. That's what got us all in here.
Mistakes. A slip of the tongue.
Mistakes. The path of a blade, the barrel of a gun.
Mistakes. They got the wrong girl.
Life. Slipping past me. I only noticed how little there is, when I was wasting it away. Gone.
Fences keeping me in.
I wanted out.
But there's a reason no one visits me.
They know exactly what we're here for
Don't look up, just let them think
There's no place else you'd rather be.
Justice. Supposedly what I got. Wrong, all wrong.
I sat in my room, staring, motionless.
I sat in my room, wasting away.
I sat in my room, going insane.
I sat in my room. Then I saw those eyes.
A boy, no older than myself.
A boy, whom I had never met.
A boy, who was stuck with me.
A boy, who saved me.
A month later and we're close friends.
A month later and we try to escape.
A month later and we're brought back in.
A month later and we decide.
Pain. It was good, but we needed style. That style was his idea. That style was Ryan's idea.
Fences keeping me in.
I wanted out.
But there's a reason I fell in love.
And It's obvious that you're dying, dying
Just living proof that the camera's lying.
Plans. They're made to be carried out.
The cameras. They were always there.
The cameras. They never saw the medication slowly disappearing.
The cameras. They never showed us, our love.
The cameras. They showed the deaths instead.
Death was good.
Death was an escape from monotony.
Death was a lover's agreement.
Death was noticeable, when we did it.
Pills. Hundreds of them.
Pills. Ground up, disguised.
Pills. In the kitchens.
Pills. In the food.
Suicide. It's one thing. Homicide is another.
Fences keeping me in.
I wanted out.
But there's a reason we did it.
And oh, oh, open wide, 'cause this is your night
So smile.
Murder. Wrong, I know.
Life. A wonderful, colourful, happy thing.
Life. So beautiful, yet so meaningless.
Life. So fragile.
Life. So easy to take.
Statistics. Cold, hard evidence.
Statistics. Impersonal, unusable.
Statistics. Twenty hospitalised.
Statistics. Eighty-two dead.
Power. To please.
Power. To amaze.
Power. To give.
Power. To take.
A smile. So simple, so powerful.
The fences were gone.
But there are reasons I did it.
'Cause you'll go out in style.
Everything. Nothing. Family. Doctors.
Mistakes.
A boy. Pain. Style.
Death.
The cameras. Death. Pills. Suicide.
Homicide.
Statistics. Power. Life.
Love.
A/N: Okay, so what did you think? Comments and creative criticisms are welcome as usual, and if you don't get what happened here, leave me a comment and I'll attempt to explain.