by Ker Dukey
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he asks with a deep growl and I groan my reply.
I manage to get up to my knees and spit the blood out that is filling my mouth. I look over at a shaking Faye and I feel like the biggest cunt there is, Cade went easy on me.
“I’m so sorry Faye,” I beg.
“It’s fine,” she whispers, standing and coming over to help me stand.
“Like fuck it is, don’t touch him, Baby. He’s disgusting, I’ll help him.”
Cade’s hands grip around my arm and he helps me get to my feet. “Shower?” He barks. I point to the door on the far wall. I get a quick glimpse around the room and Drake and Kimberly are nowhere in sight.
Chapter Three
Best friends
Jenson
I’ve showered and dressed in clean clothes, my head still bangs a hearty thump and my body feels like a truck hit me. “Love the hair.” Faye grins over at me. I run my hand over the small bristly spikes from where I shaved my full head. I was sporting a blue Mohawk for the last six months but I needed to rid myself of everything Blue related. I was a wreck, I nearly hit Faye. Shit, I was so ashamed at how far I had fallen and yet the only thing I wanted was to get high to forget about feeling this shitty.
“You’re fucked on drugs, you need rehab,” Cade growls at me, standing in front of his wife like some bodyguard. He was right but was high himself if he thought I was going to rehab.
“I have intense dreams and you both woke me. It was shock, you don’t have to stand over her like that,” I point at Faye, “I’d never fucking hurt her or any woman, and you know it.”
He strides over to me. “You’re my best friend and I’d do anything for you including trusting my woman’s life in your hands but right now you’re not you, the drugs and drink are taking their toll Jens and it’s a slippery slope, don’t do this to yourself. I can’t help you fix yourself if you’re not willing to let me.”
“What the actual fuck? I thought you came to visit me?”
“It’s an intervention, you need to listen to someone. We thought Cade would be the one.” Evan pipes up, coming into the room followed by the rest of my band mates.
“Is this a joke? What about the tour?” I laugh.
“After the tour Jen we only have six more nights here and then we break for four weeks.”
They were serious, I didn’t need rehab. I was a fucking rock star; drink, drugs and rock and roll? They were all hypocrites! They fucked and drank like it was a sport, if I needed rehab so did they.
I push past Cade and out of the door. I spot Kimberly coming from her dressing room. Slinging my arm over her shoulder I tell her we’re getting out of here.
****
“Buy whatever you want,” I declare to Kimberly, standing in a shoe shop she gushed over as we walked past. My bodyguards are giving me evil glares as they try to keep screaming fans at bay. I didn’t bother wearing my glasses or hat to disguise myself. I wanted to reap the rewards of my fame. The chanting and love pouring from my fans, I need to feel it, embrace it. Fuck everyone else this is what mattered. Cameras flashing and people screaming questions at me was the norm for me and I felt oddly at home.
Kimberly was burrowing into my armpit trying to cover her face. But I was reckless and fed the frenzy.
“Who’s the woman Jenson?”
“She’s my woman, we’re in love and getting married.” I jibed. We both laughed at them eating it up. My guards ushered us into my car and I made them take us to a hotel so we could get high without judgment.
Chapter four
Pain
Blue
You never turn out as strong as you expect yourself to be. You watch the news or a movie and your head is telling you no way would you be a victim like those people. You’d fight harder, kill them first, run faster, think smarter, but when you’re stolen and you’re weak in comparison to the strength of the people holding you down, you’re defenceless and completely at their mercy while you’re tied to equipment made for couples to act out sexual fantasies. Your body is abused and theirs to brutalize. Your mind betrays you and keeps you hostage in the horrifying moment while they violate you in all the ways that will make your life too hard to bear if you escape the nightmare. Your womb is destroyed and your womanly parts scarred and not your own.
Three months it took for it not to burn to pee, and six months for my bowels to pass without pain. I would never have children and my body wore scars like confetti.
I know I was labelled a whore by other women in the groupie crowd and laughed at for what happened to me, ‘she deserved it because she’s promiscuous and probably got herself into the wrong situation’, one of my so called friends twittered. They don’t know the full extent of what I went through, they hear rumours, Chinese whispers and make up the rest.
It’s shocking how quickly friends become just people you once knew, how boyfriends become just another one of your conquests. How the man you actually loved becomes the one person you can’t bear to see yourself through. When I saw the guilt and pity in his eyes it destroyed the last thread of sanity and soul I had left.
I always thought once we both grew up a little we would end up together, I would fantasize about it. We could buy a place in the country and tell tales about how he was a rock star once upon a time.
I had trust and abandonment issues which caused me to be wary of affection and allowing myself to love and care about others. But it was all too late now. I walked away and he let me, I hid away from the world, trying to heal but it wasn’t working. Depression took its grip on me and pulled me under.
I tear myself open just to feel anything. The blood trail stings its fiery crimson path across my skin and I inhale the release.
“Martha, you in there? Trey’s downstairs,” Greg, one of Dad’s boys calls out to me. He was my personal bodyguard and fuck buddy, he was also my only friend right now because I had shut myself off from my two only real girlfriends Christine and Mary, they would drive me insane for details if they knew I was giving Greg regular workouts but it wasn’t for the thrill of no strings sex. I was a changed woman and I needed to take back my body and my control, so Greg let me play dominant female with him but as soon as the sweat dried on my skin I felt weak, vulnerable and disgusting. Trey was my boyfriend; he was from a rich well to do family and was nothing like any man I ever saw myself with. He wore sweater vests and played golf on weekends but he was safe, I had been seeing him for six months and he still hadn’t tried to have full on sex with me, he was waiting for marriage. I’d laugh if it didn’t make me feel safe with him.
I swipe away the blood and put a plaster over the slice I just made. “I’m coming Greg,” I call through the door. I look myself over in the mirror once more, my jet black hair curled and flowed over my shoulders. I had stripped the blue from it because it reminded me of Jenson. My blue eyes were complemented with a little mascara on my lashes, my lips were ruby red of their own making. I wore a sweater that covered me from neck to bottom and my blue jeans covered the rest.
I descend the stairs and ignore my Father’s whore cooing over Greg, she’s a money hungry slut and barely my age. I hated living here with them but still wasn’t ready to go out on my own. No matter how many times I tell myself I survived, I can get past this, I was still their victim. My own mind my tormentor repeating the attacks over and over, keeping me captive. The bastard’s responsible didn’t even exist anymore but I knew what men like them were capable of now and it’s a fear that’s wrapped its vines around my soul and kept me prisoner. I was always afraid I didn’t recognize this person I’d become. I needed to escape the old Blue who was the reason the attack happened yet the new me was pitiful and a shadow of the former confident, strong willed woman that once played host to this body. I have no direction or purpose anymore, I am just adrift.
“Martha, you look beautiful, doesn’t she Trey?” Dad’s whore squeals, the pitch of her voice vibrating my brain. The old me battles the new docile
me with a response, I want to tell her to stop using her overinflated lips on trying to play mommy and go use them to suck the dick that paid for them, like she’s supposed to, but instead I smile and link my arm with Trey’s.
“You do look lovely as always,” he whispers, kissing my forehead.
Greg follows behind us as usual; this was something Trey had gotten used to by now although he made it clear he thought it unnecessary and didn’t quite understand why I would need a bodyguard. He didn’t know about anything I’d been through and I planned to keep it that way.
“I have a surprise for you.” He grins and his white perfect teeth gleam at me.
He’s beautiful. His perfect face is completely symmetry, the perfection of it almost nauseating. He is tall and athletic and any mothers dream choice for their child, and yet he did nothing for me in regards to chemistry but he was safe, which was everything I needed.
“Okay, I can’t wait.” I reply with fake enthusiasm.
Chapter five
Late
Jenson
My insides start churning as saliva begins to flood my mouth. Shit, I’m going to barf. I fight the covers I’m twisted up in and stumble from the bed, almost knocking myself out on the bedside table. I’m stark naked and now kneeling on a freezing cold tiled bathroom floor hurling into a toilet basin.
I can hear music playing in the background to my vomit show and a groggy moaning coming from Kimberly. “OH FUCK!” She bellows, making me wince. My head was sensitive and every slice of noise felt three times louder than it actually was.
I pull myself to a standing position, holding on to the basin for support and look at the reflection in the mirror staring at me. Shit, the black lines under my eyes make me look ill, red blood vessels in my eyes give me away as being hangover.
“We’re late, oh god!” Kimberly squeals, running around the hotel room gathering her clothes, her bare ass tormenting me every time she bends down. I walk over to her and grab her around the waist but she smacks my hands away. “Jens seriously we need to go, I go on stage in ten freaking minutes.”
Oh shit, I grab my cell and grimace at the thirty seven missed calls. Fuck! Shit!
“Do you want me to go?” A voice from the bed murmurs, making me jump a foot in the air. Who the hell was she?
“Yes!” Kimberly barks at her. A naked brunette shimmies from the bed, she’s petite and looks young, great.
“Who is that?” I whisper to Kimberly. She glares at me and pushes my shoulders.
“That’s the girl from the lobby bar who you took a liking to and asked her to join us.”
I look over at the girl now smiling up at me like I’m some God. “It was the best time of my whole life,” she beams.
“How old are you?” I ask holding my breath.
“Twenty three.” She replies fidgeting.
“You checked her ID last night Jens before you even bought her a drink. Now can we go?” Kimberly groans. Thank fuck my drunken ass can still be somewhat responsible because I don’t even remember meeting her last night.
Clothes hit my face and then fall at my feet. “Get dressed.”
Fists hammering at the hotel door gain the attention of the fuming Kimberly and the thumping in my temples. I notice the brunette still standing there gazing at me. I cautiously smile at her and she blurts, “Can I have an autograph before I have to go?”
I look at her and then the messy bed. “Fucking me wasn’t enough?” I joke.
Her face burns red. “Oh we didn’t… you didn’t. You made me and your girlfriend do stuff.” She shrugs. Kimberly got it on with another woman and I can’t remember it? That’s karma.
****
“You motherfucker, where the hell have you been?” Kenny bellows.
I push past him into my dressing room. “I’m here, what’s the problem?” I grit out.
“You look like fucking shit and Kimberly was late. They used a fucking stand in for her. You’re not just fucking up your life here Jenson.”
“She’s a big girl, I don’t force her to be with me. Fuck her and fuck you.”
“Oh that’s freaking perfect asshole.” Kimberly chose that moment to walk in. I can’t handle this shit. I made this band, without me there would be no concert to perform at so why was I getting grief?
“Get the fuck out so I can shower and change and when it’s me who doesn’t turn up you can bitch me out but until then get off my case.” I bark and slam the door to the shower room.
God it was like being a teenager all over again.
****
The shower trickles over me, washing away the night I can’t even remember. I’m acting foolish, an utter dick. The sensible Jenson knows this and wants to wake the fuck up from this pity party for one but the alcohol and drugs are too easy an option to take, an easy escape from my own head… my own heart.
The shower wakes me up a little but I need a pick me up and I have no stash left.
I slip into my clothes and hunt down Drake who I find comforting a distraught Kimberly. Her bands music echoes from the walls and bring the stadium alive without her.
“They won’t let me play Jenson, what if they kick me from the group? This is all I have, all I am.” She sobs. How is this my fault?
“They won’t kick you from the group, calm down.” I try and comfort her but her angry eyes almost flay me alive with pure intent alone. “Drake, I need a little something.” I avert my attention to him instead.
“You’re unbelievable.” Kimberly huffs at me, her eyes blood shot with black makeup crap smeared everywhere. She pushes past me with a shoulder nudge and storms off into a room out of sight. I don’t have time for her tantrums. I’m jittering because I need a fucking hit and when the buzz leaves me, all the shit I have done likes to play with my mind. Killing someone is easy in the height of rage and I have no sympathy or regrets for the lives I took but it doesn’t stop the graphic images taunting you afterwards or the screams haunting your dreams. I wasn’t made for murder, beneath all the hate and need for vengeance was still Jenson, a man that just wanted to play music, love a good woman and be a good and loyal friend to the men he grew up with and saw as brothers.
“You should treat her better man, she’s a good girl and she loves your ass.”
I flinch from his words. I have no place in my life or heart for love. Blue demolished any chance for me to love again. Kimberly was a good girl for what I needed but more than that and no thanks.
“I asked for a hit not advice dickhead, pick us out a couple of groupie sluts for the night as well, I need to cut Kimberly loose.”
****
A little bag of white dust to take away the unsettled feeling creeping back into my stomach, the lonely ache in my soul and the dark memories crawling out to plague me.
Quarter bottle of Jack to take the hyper edge off the cocaine high.
And I was ready to take the stage and do what I do.
“Beneath Innocence. Beneath Innocence. Beneath Innocence.” The crowd scream, igniting the blood in my veins. I look around at my band members, each one of them more than a member, more than friend’s .They are my family and the worry in their eyes looking back at me makes me want to escape higher. I wasn’t used to being the person people worry about. I wasn’t the fuck up, I was the guy who pushed us, I was the friend who was there if you needed him, I was the guy that gave a shit about the women he fucked but not anymore. I was slipping out of myself and didn’t have the strength to claw my way back in. The buzz was all that mattered, taking away every other fucked up feeling there is.
The intro chimes and I take the mic.
“Blood rain pouring down in crimson water I am found,
I’m slipping underground.
Is this who I am?
Is this who I am?
You gave me something I can’t breathe without,
I’m dying with you and I can’t cut you out.
I feel the itch, I feel your tug.
For you I’m powerless,
your loving’s a drug.
Is this who I am?
Is this who I am?
Blood on my hands, scars on my soul,
Ash in my heart, am I even a man?
Is this who I am?
Is this who I am?
I slice until I see red, consumed in black, loving blue, loving blue.
Love, lust, vengeance and death,
I feel it all for you, I seek it all for you, I am it all for you.
With no one to catch me I’m falling like a stone.
Every single road I take I’m alone.
Is this who I am?
Is this who I am?”
Thunderous fans singing back your lyrics is a therapeutic feeling in the moment, on the stage thriving from their energy, the love they felt for me. They embrace my pain and roar it back at me with fists clenched and feet stamping in support but as the music stops and the lights come on, the crowd disperses and I’m still there, surrounded by band members and roadies but suffering alone. How can it be this hard to move on? How can I still feel responsible and guilty over what happened and why is it that all I want to do is wrap her in my arms and love her, heal her?
