7- Lay Down Your Arms, Give Up The Fight

Chapter title and song lyrics are from "21 Guns" by Green Day.

This chapter includes mention of self-harm that may be triggering. Do not read this chapter if you feel you are sensitive to such triggers. If you want to read a non-triggering version of the chapter, please send me an instant message (AIM- molliegym ; MSN- flipdude830@hotmail.com) and I'll do it.

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Pierre's POV

I was angry at Katie. I couldn't believe what she had done. How could she go and have sex with Johnny Collins?

I walked out of the hotel room. All I had in my pocket was my wallet, cell phone, and the key to my hotel room. I opened the door, and saw Jeff watching infomercials on the TV. I needed to relax.

"Jeff?" I said. He picked his head up.

"What?"

"I'm going outside."

"Dude, it's almost two in the morning. Why are you going outside?"

"I need to relax. Do you have a lighter I can use?" I asked.

" Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. I just need a cigarette."

"Okay. It's on the table over there." Jeff pointed to a table across from his bed, where I saw his lighter.

"Thanks."

I took the lighter, and went outside to the back of the hotel, where I lit my cigarette. I felt relaxed almost immediately, and it was probably a good thing. My fiancé, and the love of my life for over ten years, just had sex with the man that had almost destroyed our relationship when it first began. I didn't know who I hated more- Katie, for having sex with Johnny; or Johnny, for having sex with Katie.

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Katie's POV

It didn't hit me right away. In fact, it didn't hit me until the next morning, when I woke up and Pierre wasn't next to me. And the thing is, I couldn't blame him. I had messed up. I had messed up really, really badly. I had slept with Johnny Collins.

There was no way I could stay on the tour with Pierre for the next eighteen days. I had to go back home. So at almost two in the morning, I picked up my cell phone, and called American Airlines.

"Hi, this is American Airlines customer service, and my name is Kristin. How may I help you?" a cheery-sounding woman asked.

"Hi," I said. "I need to book the next available flight from Dallas to Montreal."

"The next flight from Dallas to Montreal leaves at 11:15. Can I please have your name and credit card number to purchase the ticket?"

"Yes, sure."

After I paid for my plane ticket and hung up the phone, I realized I had three hours until my flight. In a hurry, I started packing up my stuff. When I opened the door, I saw Seb standing there.

"Katie? Where are you going?" he said.

"I'm going to Montreal," I told him.

"Why? What happened?"

"I messed up. Last night I did something really stupid, and Pierre-" I was about to cry, and you could hear it in my voice.

"What? Are you okay?"

"I got drunk, and had sex with Johnny Collins. Pierre walked in on us."

"So… what's going on between you and Pierre?" Seb asked.

"I don't really know. Tell him the ring's on the nightstand, okay?"

I left quickly, and once in the hotel lobby, I called a cab to take me to the airport. I waited around for awhile in the airport, and by that afternoon, I was in the apartment in Montreal.

Of course, I didn't just sit there. I got a job working for A&R at a local indie record label, and I spent every single day there. The days weren't bad, nor were the evenings- I spent the days in the studio, listening to demo CDs and songs on Myspace, and the evenings at shows. I went to a concert every night. It was pretty cool. I liked seeing and discovering new bands.

But I'm not going to lie- the nights were tough. In the first week, Simple Plan played shows in Dallas, Houston, Denver, Phoenix, and Las Vegas. Every night, I called Seb and David, and they would tell me about the show, and how the tour was going. Sometimes they had stories about crazy fans- like those girls Emily and Sammy on the plane to Dallas- but whatever we talked about, we avoided the subjects of Johnny and Pierre. Sometimes I spoke to Jeff and Chuck, too. But I never spoke to Pierre.

The thing is, it was all my fault. I couldn't even begin to blame Pierre, because what had he done wrong? Nothing. I was the one who had fucked up. I had gotten drunk and had sex with Johnny Collins. Sure, Pierre was the one who had broken off the engagement, but it was my fault, not his.

For the first week, I stayed strong. I made it through each day intact, although that was kind of a miracle. I kept fighting. I kept struggling through. But the nights- every night, I cried, and every night, I wished I hadn't fucked up so badly. I hated myself for doing it. Too many drinks, and I had done something that was beyond stupid, and it had ruined my engagement.

Sure, I had matured a lot in the last ten years, but the truth is, I'm still Katie Williams. I'm still the same person I was when I first went out with Pierre. A box cutter in the corner kept catching my eye. And I resisted at first. I wanted so much to just grab it, but I didn't.


When you're at the end of the road
And you lost all sense of control
And your thoughts have taken their toll
When your mind breaks the spirit of your soul.


But that didn't last forever. Because guess what? Old habits die hard. Old habits that were formed in your sophomore year of high school. Old habits that originated when your boyfriend dumped you because he thought you were cheating on him (even though you really weren't). These old habits have a nasty tendency to come back when you cheat on your boyfriend (er, fiancé) with the same guy that so many years ago he thought you were cheating on him with (even though, back then, you really weren't), he finds out, and then you're left with no one and nothing.

I hadn't done it since that time at the end of sophomore year. Okay, that's not true. I did it in college. Once. But it was nothing. It was a little scratch. I put a band-aid on it, and I was fine. Alright, it wasn't just a scratch, and I wasn't fine. I went in to therapy for almost a year. But after that I was really fine. I was as fine as I'd ever be, anyway.

Since then, I hadn't even thought about cutting myself. Until I met up with Johnny Collins again, and I screwed everything up. Everything I'd had with Pierre, I screwed it up in one night. And this wasn't like that time I caught him kissing the cheerleading captain. I was able to forgive him for that, but we weren't engaged. We were two high school sophomores. We were stupid. We made mistakes, but nothing was ever that serious.

But then Pierre and I got engaged, and after barely a month, I screwed everything up. I ruined everything we'd ever had, in ten years, because I got drunk and hooked up with Johnny Collins. Why would I ever do that?

Maybe because I'm an idiot. Maybe because I'm stupid. Maybe because my subconscious hates me and wanted me to be miserable. Maybe because I'm a horrible person.

Or maybe it doesn't matter why I did it. Maybe all that matters is that I did it, and that now, I'm here, alone, and there's no one here to save me. My relationship with Pierre is ruined, and I was… alone. I hated it. I couldn't just go knock on Seb's door, or ask David to run over. That wasn't an option when they were thousands of miles away. I didn't want to talk about this with them, or with anyone.

I just wanted to give in. I was sick of fighting. Pierre might've cared about me, but whatever had existed between us obviously didn't matter to him anymore. What's the use in staying strong if the one person who matters most isn't there for you to stay strong for?

Your faith walks on broken glass
And the hangover doesn't pass
Nothing's ever built to last
You're in ruins.

I couldn't see the use. So I gave in.


One, 21 guns
Lay down your arms
Give up the fight
One, 21 guns
Throw up your arms into the sky,
You and I.