Never Give In (Black Veil Brides FanFiction)

After a fatal car crash, Calypso is left with nothing but a suitcase, a decomposition book, pictures and some old letters. She lost the ability to hear on her left ear, and now she has a trembling hand and an extreme anxiety to almost everything.
Being underage, she must be taken to live with the closest familiar. She had none, but the letters revealed otherwise.
Her brother is in a famous band, and his name is Andy Biersack.
They are nothing alike. She's quite, he's loud. He's chessy, she rolls her eyes. She likes Superman, he likes Batman. Only thing in common? Writing meaningful and beautiful things. They both love pouring their hearts out in letters. She does it in poems and he does in songs. What's the difference.
But her brother is not the only thing she will come across.
She will fall into a world she had never experience. And she will learn one thing.
Never. Give. In.
Short chapters.

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3. T W O

T W O

Faded Ink and Wrinkled Paper

Calypso

There I was. A girl with an aqua oversized sweater, messy hair and a cup of hot chocolate placed in front of her.

My cheeks were puffy and red. My lips dry and cracked. My pale skin paler than usual, and my green eyes without need of seeing them, obviously had lost their shine.

In front of the girl, a.k.a me, was a young man. Not so much older than me. He was around his twenties and had a full-grown beard. He was blonde and his eyes were very dark. Just like an evil angel. His body was strong and the tight cloths made him look even bigger.

He was explaining me everything I needed to know now that my parents were dead.

Like was just seventeen I couldn't stay by myself in the house or an apartment so the state was sending me to a girls' house to stay until was eighteen. Ther thing was that it was too late to do a trip to the other side of the city, so he was taking me home to pick up my stuff, let me take a reenergizing sleep and then head to the girls' house.

I was glad he wasn't taking me directly. I needed to pick up some stuff. My guitar, my songs books, pictures and check for some stuff in my parents room. Like, a sweater of my mom, a necklace, a bracelet. Or of my father, a jacket, a watch or tie. I didn't know. But I just wanted something. Something to remind me of them.

After asking me some question we could finally leave.

 

His car was black. An state car. He opened the passenger door for me. Thing was that I was frozen in my place.

''Something wrong love?'' He asked. I shook my head, my hand trembling even more than it was before. ''Are you scared?'' I nodded.

''Could we just walk? My house is not too far from here,'' I whispered.

''I really don't want to walk...,'' he trailed off.

''Please,'' I pleaded. He sighed, and accepted. ''Thanks.''

I started walking to the direction of my house that was a couple of blocks away, Brutus trailing behind me. My hand had reduced its shaking and my breath and heart rate were slow again, but the the trembling in my hand was still there.

With my left hand I grabbed it, trying to stop it. It didn't work. A sobbed escaped my lips right after that.

 

He opened the door for me. After the accident the cops had gave him the keys of the house, that had managed to not melt in the car that was set on fire.

Our first stop was the kitchen, where I made myself a glass of chocolate milk, and I offered him a glass of water. He asked for a beer. I could have said no, but he opened the fridge and took my father's favorite beer out. It was the last one. He emptied completely in three gulps.

''You can sleep in the guest's room,'' I managed to say.

''Your parents?'' I shook my head.

''I'll be there. And my room too. I'm packing all of my stuff,'' I said before he had the brilliant idea to ask for my room.

''Okay. Thanks.''

He left the empty beer bottle in the counter, almost at the edge and about to fall. I went to grab it and threw it to the trash and after that that headed to wash my own glass.

First thing was to go to my room to pick all of my stuff. I couldn't grab it all. I knew my space in that house was going to be limited. I just grabbed all of my over-sized sweater (that were in total six), ten loose T-shirts, two pairs of flats, a pair of ankle boots, a jacket and it was all.

I grabbed my whole box of necklaces, bracelets and hair accessories. My photo albums of family and friends, my photos at school gigs, and two plushies -a teddy bear and a penguin.

Then it was the hard part. My parents' room. 

My legs started shaking amazingly as I made my way there. My hand started trembling horrible just like when I had to get into the car. It was a horrible feeling. Having a constant anxiousness because of nothing, a trembling hand because of nothing. Oh, and of course, a not working ear. I was half deaf.

It was so sad.

I turned the doorknob with my left hand, since my right hand was, like I have said before, shaking uncontrollably. I gave it a little push. It opened with a creak sound. The lights were off, the window was opened so the breeze could run through the room. There was a little yellow bird on the bed.

I sat on the bed next to the bird, and this, instead of running away, jumped into my hand. I didn't say anything, I just started crying, and the little birdy started singing. A beautiful melody. Almost like a lullaby.

Have you heard that sometimes animals send you messages, or lead you to something. Well, that was what the little birdy did, just when she jumped to the floor and got under the bed as it kept singing. I got on my knees right next to the bed and looked under it.

There it was. The little birdy, standing next to a box. Still singing, but the melody was even sweeter.

I grabbed the box and pulled out, the small bird staying next to the box all the time. The bloody red box. Carefully I opened it. It was full of wrinkled paper. And the wrinkled paper had faded ink. That was the only things the box contained. Wrinkled paper and faded ink.

I read the first letter.

 

December 5th, 1998.

Dear Amy,

I received your letters. I was really planning on ignoring them but you have insisted so much that even my wife has pushed me to answer back, so here I am.

Look, in the hospital they gave me the option to chose who I was going to donate my esperma to. I had clear that the kid that came from that was going to be my child, even if I never meet him, in this case her.

I chose you guys because your economic stability was good, on the contrary of mine that was going down. Now, we are both on the same place.

I wish I could help, but the money I got from that donation is gone and I haven't been able to get more. But if anywhere, in the future I get more money, I will sure help you.

Sincerely sorry,

Chris Biersack.

 

That was the first letter. There was another one of a few years later. It was from 2002.

 

September 3rd, 2002.

Dear Amy,

I finally have enough money to help you guys, but as I see you too have grown strong. I'm glad Ricky has such a good position in that millionaire company.

My son, Andy, found me writing the letter, and asked me what it was. He's not eight anymore, he's eleven, so it was hard to convince him it was just a plain letter to an old friend.

I hope our daughter Calypso is doing okay. I hope to meet her one day. She and Andy are so alike for what I read. Both in love with music. And they look alike, except for the eyes. Hers are green.

I hope that one day our children could meet.

My best wishes,

Chris Biersack.

 

Then the last one. Dated to just a few days back. And I knew what I was going to do after reading that letter.

 

August 28th, 2015.

Dear Amy,

This will be a short letter. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to meet Calypso, little Calypso Emmerson Biersack. I called Andy to come home that day, I haven't told him why. It's going to be a surprise.

See you on September 4th.

See you soon,

Chris Biersack.

 

September fourth. The day of accident.

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