#scared af that ya'll might hate it

[imchronicallydepressed]

☆This is still a work in progress, but this is mostly what the first part will be. I will most likely post this on Archive of our Own at some point, just cause some people might prefer to read it on there.

☆I absolutely adore feedback, so please let me know if I can use some work on certain spots or even if it's just to tell me you enjoy it.

☆Double spacing exists solely cause I felt it looked better, I may take it away. Idk

☆ENJOY, PLEASE

Metal Institute

Pt.1

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You're not good enough

You'll never be good enough

Everything you do only leads to disappointment

Your family hates you

Your mother

Your sister

Even Your father

They all hate you

"Shut up."

You're a mistake and that's all you'll ever be in this life

"You're wrong."

Why do you think they put you in here then? Do you think this is some camp? Get to play around outside all day then go sleep in a tent? Tell stories around the campfire while indulging in sweets?

You're living in a fucken fantasy, Glam.

A laugh. "My name isn't Glam. It's Sebastion and You're nothing but a voice in my head, schizophrenia as the doctors call it. Father put me in here to make me better and that's exactly what the doctors are doing." A smile crossed his lips.

Blasphemy and you know it. We both know it. I'm your conscience and you need to accept that cause guess what, You're stuck with me.

You hate the name Sebastion and you hate playing the Violin. You love rock music and your best friend was a guy you met by the dumpster, remember that?

"I don't know what you're talking about. Father never allowed me to have friends and I would never make friends with someone near the dumpster no less."

How about your favorite song, huh? What about Twisted Sister?

"That music is unholy, shouldn't even be legal. It's rubbish. Bach and Vivaldi are-"

Bach and Vivaldi are the real rubbish. You hate that shit. That's all you were forced to listen to, forced to play.

The father you claim to love you beat you with a ruler. Remember that?! Remember how he made you bleed?! All because you were off by an eighth of a pitch!

"Stop it. You're lying."

These doctors that you claim are helping you are doing the fucken opposite! They're brainwashing you into staying under your father's thumb!

You should've ran, should've went back to your friend, but instead you stayed and look what happened! He beat you and now your in a mental asylum! All because you didn't want the type of life he was making you have!

"S-Shut up!" His hands went to his face, covering his eyes as tears slowly began to trickle down. It wasn't true, was it? His father wouldn't lock him away just cause he... wanted a different life, right?

Look at yourself! Look at your wrists! Look at the scars your father inflicfed upon you! Look at the marks from the binds that held you down while the doctors performed their sick experiments on you! What about your ankles? Tied so damn tight that it nearly cut off blood flow, all so you couldn't escape!

Look at those wounds covering your body and tell me that I'm not speaking the truth.

He moved his hands down from his face, leaning over to the dim moonlight that shown in through the plexiglass window. Tears rolled off his cheeks now, one after another as he examined his wrists, the scars that will forever remain due to his dear father.

Look at them, Glam.

Tell me, does this look like something a loving father would allow? Would a loving father allow such experiments to be had on his one and only son? Would a loving father beat their son?

He placed his hands over his mouth, trying to muffle the soft sobs that followed his tears. He'd been so far gone with all the 'treatments' that he blantly accepted them. He blantly accepted being strapped to a cold metal table, allowing the doctors to inject God knows what into his veins.

The food he ate, the beverages he'd recieved... who knows what was in them, what sort of shit he was being slipped. Not to mention the effects he'd been feeling. The nausea, the headaches, the fuzzy memories, and now he was hearing voices...

You finally get it, don't you?

Your father doesn't love you. You will forever be a disappointment in his eyes and you will forever be in your sisters shadow.

"L-Leave Lydia out of this... she doesn't deserve to be... placed on the same platform like father." He spoke again, dragging his hands down his face and pulling his legs up.

As much as he despised being constantly compared to the likeness of his sister, she'd never once laid a hand on him. She'd actually used to be the one to bandage him up when they were younger, while their mother hid in the shadows, too scared to stand up for her children.

Tell me, Sebastion... what sort of platform does your loving father deserve to be put on? What sort of outcome does he deserve in all this?

"Outcome? He won't get to receive the deserved outcome. In the end, I'm stuck in here and... those doctors will continue to try and... 'fix me'."

Oh, don't you worry about that. He will get his fill of Karma. Don't frazzle your pretty mind with such worry. Besides, you have me! I will get you out of here.

"How will you help me escape? You're nothing but my own conscience. Besides, the guards in this place are armed."

You needn't worry. All in due time. Why don't we look at the future, though? Why don't we look at what will come to your father?

So tell me, when we do escape, and we will by any means necessary, what end does your father deserve?

He began to laugh, his eyes seeming to fill the dark room with vivid thoughts. Then his laughing grew. It became louder and louder, more maniacal. The things he was seeing, the actions he was performing... Violent actions. The same actions he had once written down, the same actions his father had confronted him about upon finding his journal.

He still felt like such an idiot for that mistake. If he just... double checked, and made sure that the 'line of defense' wasn't at a risk of being found out about. None of this would have happened. He might still be stuck at home, sure, but he'd have his best friend. He'd have access to his records. He'd have access to THE record.

"I'll tell you what he deserves! I'll tell you what end I want to grant him!" He stood, going to the window and placing his hands firmly upon it, glancing up at the moon.

"I want to see his blood spill. I want to beat him with that fucken ruler until he's begging for mercy. Maybe even a baseball bat!" He turned, facing the darkness of the room, more laughing emitting from his mouth. Now he really did sound like he belonged in such a place.

"I want him to suffer and bleed, the same way I had to. I want to see that bastard cry and beg for forgiveness!" He could only continue to laugh as he fell to his knees, the vision growing more and more realistic by the second.

Glam ran his fingers through the tangled mess of hair, looking up at the ceiling for a moment with more maniacal laughter.

"Maybe I'll make him play the Violin. Then I can stand there and criticize every bar and note he plays! Slap his wrists until blood it dripping to the floor!"

Good! Good! You're getting the hang of it! That's the spirit! You're spine is tingling with the excitement, the anticipation!

So remind me, what's your name again?

"Glam! My name is Glam..." He spoke calmly now, placing his hands on the ground in front of him.

Right, you're finally getting it. What else do you know?

"I-I have a best friend... what was his name again?" He glanced around the moon lit room for a moment before scratching his head, fingers getting tangled in the matted mess of hair.

You know this answer, Glam. Don't expect me to help you with such stupid questions.

"I-I don't remember..."

You need to remember him! Don't let your memory start fading away, now think harder. What was his fucken name?!

He held his head in his hands for a moment, more tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He couldn't remember him, no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't remember his name, why he was called that...

Just... who he was physically. What he looked like, how he had helped Glam through the bullshit. The messy brown hair, the disgusting green jacket, that annoying voice and those horrid yellow teeth.

"C-Chive..." He finally mumbled to himself after a moment. That was his name, right? He knew it at least started with a C.

Good boy, Glam. You're making progress. Do not forget Chive. Don't forget what he looked like or what he did for you. If you forget him, then that might as well be the end.

Glam put his face in his hands again. Don't forget? How was he supposed to manage that when he was being tortured and experimented on day in and day out. Hell, he barely remembered the last this he ate.

The fact of the matter was that without his friend, he'd never discover the beauty of rock music. The beauty outside of that fucken prison of a house. Sure, he had to deal with some... painful repercussions, but it was so worth it. Getting to play in front of a crowd, especially play music he was actually proud of? It was the best feeling in the world to him.

"He probably thinks I abandoned him..." He gripped his hands into fists. "M-my one and only friend... thinks I abandoned him..."

Who would ever know what became of Glam outside of his family. -He was sent away to a special music school, one that didn't allow such... worthless talent to blindly be accepted- That was probably along the lines of what he'd say to the school anyways. Chive would never step foot near his front door, so it's not like he'd come knocking.

Stop worrying. We'll get out of here in no time. Soon enough you'll be back at his side and the two of you will be playing again before you know it. You'll even have your favorite record back.

Remember that song Glam? It's your favorite.

He began to chuckle softly, tears still rolling down his cheeks. "We're not gonna take it..." He started singing, the vocals raspy and sloppy.

No! We ain't gonna take it!

"We're not gonna take it anymore..." He pulled his knees back to his chest, tears continuing to flow as his off key singing kept up, his voice seeming to echo in the emptiness that was his confinement cell.

That song. It'd got him to discover life outside of classical bullshit. Now it was gonna be the song to help him escape this hell. No matter the cost.