Some Peope Would Love To Have A Rockstar As A Brother

It was an amazing concert. But, looking back on it, I would have given a lot never to have gone:
I could have lived with the girls seeing me; I survived the bruises and sore, stepped on toes; the nerves didn’t kill me, I didn’t even throw up this time, unlike the first time I went to see my brother; no- it was what happened during the encore, what that stupid son-of-a-bitch tried to do- even worse than that, what he forced me to reveal and relive about my past, that made it one of the worst days of my life.

No I’m not talking about my brother.

I’m talking about the ghost from my past- no not even that- the henchman of a ghost from my past.

Now would be a good time to tell you why I had to leave Huntington in the first place. No one in my family or friends knows why or what forced me to go to SBCC. All they know is that the charges were “one count of collaborating with a drug dealer, two counts of battery on a civilian”.

The irony of that statement strikes me to this day. You see, it was the very same drug dealer that I am accused of “collaborating” with that I ended up with two counts of battery on, less than two weeks later, and battery is nothing compared to what I could peg on that stinking bastard.

He was the one who took my best friend away from me, he was the bloody bastard who came to my door asking for retribution- for money that one of my brother’s idiotic friends had told him that my brother had.

He was the one who I sold my virginity and two weeks of my life to and for whom took the rub for that nice little collaborative charge for: to pay him back- to stop him from killing my brother because Johnny sure as hell didn’t have $8,050.95 laying around.

And then in the middle of one of my brother’s concerts he has the gall to send one of his petty little henchmen to do god knows what, and –because its just my luck- that petty little henchmen just had to spot me in the crowd.

A smile made its way onto the guy, known as twoshot to most cause he always kills with two shots, no more no less,’s face. He pushed his way through the crowd towards me as I pretended to be enjoying the music- for O’Hagan’s benefit- till he was moshing next to me.

“long time no shoot, mini-woman.” It was how people in His gang greeted each other, and mini-woman is what they came to call me because I was only 12 when I was... in His service.

“I don’t recommend talking to me much, someone might get suspicious.”

“don’t worry about your little bodyguard, she’s distracted by my partner.” This was punctuated by his jerking his chin over to where a tall man was engaging O’Hagan in some kind of conversation. “but you nor she is why I’m here.”

“why are you here then?” a cold feeling was washing through me: he wouldn’t be after…would he?

“your precious brother’s friend is in some trouble again. But no he didn’t blame your brother, this time he decided to run away. You know how stupid that is don’t you sweetie?” here he brushed my side where a scar stretched from under my left breast to the bottom of my left shoulder blade. I had gotten it when I tried to run away from Him during my first week with him.

I merely took a half step away and tilted my head up at him.

But my mind was racing. I knew how much my brother’s friends meant to him. I was scared at what his reaction might be, never mind that he hated me, I still loved him. One of his friends injured would be like injuring him; one of their deaths would destroy him.

I couldn’t just stand there and let not only one of his friends be killed, and him be destroyed, but let his future in the band just vanish like that.

Dear god what was I thinking, someone must have taken my sanity and replaced it with... with undying love for my brother.

Shit, here goes nothing.