Early Sunsets Over Newark

I could feel my blood boil, and my body temperature raised at least one-hundred degrees. I couldn't control myself anymore. The way he kept begging for forgiveness when somehow he always screwed up made me sick. I felt my nails dig into the palm of my hand as I clenched a tight fist, my feet carrying as swiftly as possible to the stage's edge behind the large curtain. I watched from afar at first, for only a moment. The way he handled his guitar, as if bragging; like he would have anything to brag about in those pants. I bit my lip, and then bit down harder on my tongue. I blinked, and with that one blink, I suddenly went from standing at the edge of the stage to running across it, right in the middle of the show.

I yanked Brian's guitar away, and with every single drop of energy in me, I began to smash it against the belly of the stage, letting it break into pieces. The rest of the band quit playing, and the audience seemed to get louder.

"What the fuck is going on?!" Matt yelled across the stage to Brian, who shrugged his shoulders in hurt and confusion.

"She's gone crazy!"

I blinked again, and when I opened my eyes, the only thing in my hand was what was left of his fret board, the strings gripping on for dear life. My chest heaved with my heavy breathing as I pulled my arm back and chucked the fret board into the audience, who immediately began fighting for the souvenir. With the whole band frozen from confusion, I stomped over to center stage, yanking the microphone away from Matt and holding it to my mouth, my deep breathes magnified by two large speakers at each side of the stage.

"Brian Haner is a prick! He doesn't deserve anything!"

With that little outburst, the audience gasped loudly, and I dropped the microphone, causing feedback from the speakers as I stomped off stage, meeting the MyChem boys immediately and seeing Sam standing in the middle of the room, eyes wide and mouth hung open. Her eyes were still watery, but I no longer felt so upset.

When they first entered the room; they all looked confused, and angry. It wasn't until after thier manager showed up from nowhere that they realized it was good publicity. What I'd done hadn't ruined them, or Brian at all. It had only made them more popular. Damn ratings. I wished I could do more. I wanted to stab him in the neck, to scream at him, push him into on coming traffic; anything to teach him a lesson. Something in my stomach told me that I wasn't going to let go of these feelings anytime soon.