Page 23 of Unbound
LIGHTS HIT MY face, so bright I have to close my eyes. My body hurts, every muscle contracting as though standing in one place is an effort, a will that’s taking everything I have. I try to remember where I am, focusing on muffled voices and the steady thump of a blaring base in my ears. It’s pounding, heavy, insistent and I realize, it’s my heart beating, not the music.
A snare drum taps out a measured beat, people shout my name in front of me, my bandmates stare at me, waiting for me to do something, remember the lyrics.
Linc shakes his head, clicking his drum sticks together to the beat, jaw flexing. He’s disgusted with me. I’m disgusted with myself.
Get your shit together!
Beck sings the first few lines, unplanned, improvising for my hesitation. He steps up, always having my back and into the spotlight when all I need is the shadow. When he backs up, I manage to get out a few lines.
You’ve poisoned my blood
Fucked to think I could live like this
That I could actually forget you
My stomach rolls, a wave of nausea hitting me, my throat tightens again as I try to recall the next verse to the song. Somewhere inside myself, I know I should know this, I wrote it, but my mind fades into a noise I can’t decipher. “Goddamnit….”
The room spins. I stare out at the crowd, shoulder-to-shoulder fans, music reverberating inside of them and waiting on me to deliver what they came for.
My throat tightens and I know what’s coming. Time means nothing, minutes pass in an endless loop as I wait for the feeling to pass.
It doesn’t.
It gets worse.
And I think… no, Iwantto die.
Dropping the microphone on stage, it pops, loud, sending a shrill through the crowd. I have just enough time to make it off the stage before I heave and vomit in the hallway. Knowing that’s not the end of it, it’s rising back up and I drag myself toward the bathroom at the end of the hall.
Hovering over a grimy urine soaked toilet, I clench my eyes shut, the acid in my throat burning. My empty stomach heaves and I spit blood and bile out, digging my grip into the edge of the toilet. My whole body seems to constrict and I’m spitting again. Pressing my forehead to cool porcelain, a chill rushes through me and I’m shaking, shudders ripping.
Footsteps beside me, heavy ones, draw my attention to the left. It’s Dylan, I think. I don’t fucking care at this point. I want to die. I want to be left alone to fucking die.
“What the fuck?” he mutters. I know that tone; he’s disappointed.
What the fuck? Yeah, what the fuck is right.
I don’t look up. I’m hoping he gets the hint and leaves me alone. I don’t want to be bothered by anyone. My pulse pounds in my temple and I move to prop myself up against the wall. Everything’s tilting and I try not to think about where I’m at and how dirty this floor is because I don’t give a fuck. I want this spinning to stop. I want the world to stop.
I jump when the door slams open, crashing into the tile wall. Peering up with one eye barely open, it’s Beck and Linc. I don’t have the energy for this, but I can tell they’re pissed.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Rawley? We had to cancel the fucking show because of you. Jesus, why can’t you get your shit together? You’re such a fucking loser,” Beck mumbles the last part, but I hear him. I do.
Blood boils in my veins. Did I hear him right?
Yeah, I did.
I turn my head and spit again, my forehead pressing into my arm I have slung over the toilet. “Just get the fuck out. I don’t care. Leave me alone.” Anger burns through me, red to white, snow falling on the flames of deception I can’t let go of. I press my fists against the side of my head and my forehead to my knees. I want to laugh at what I’m hearing from him. I let my breath go, searching for another but gasping instead.
Beck kicks my leg. “You should give a shit, you little piece of crap! Just because you get up there and people chant your name doesn’t make you fucking God, you pussy. News flash, Rawley, the world doesn’t revolve around you! Half the fucking time I’m singing the damn songs because you keep forgetting the lyrics, and they’re your fucking songs!”
I shake my head because there’s no way I’m hearing this shit right. I look to Linc to try and make sense of the tantrum that Beck is throwing at me.
Linc must know what I’m asking by just the look on my face because he shakes his head and settles his gaze, looking me directly in the eye, scratching down his thick beard. “Beck’s right, man. Shit’s gettin’ old pretty fuckin’ quick.”
I breathe out heavily with no relief and lean my head back against the wall, bending my knees to drape my arms over my legs. “Fuck you both! If that’s the way you feel, then get the fuck out and leave me alone!” If I had any energy, I’d push them both out, but I’m not sure I can even stand let alone push someone. And they’re not leaving, which makes me think I should be the one to leave.
So I try. Struggling to my feet, I lean against the graffiti-covered wall to keep myself from crumbling back down.
