The Death of Panic! At the Disco
002.
“W-What”, I ask, my voice quivering with shock and terror.
“Cancer Ry….it’s too late…the doctors say I have 3 months left to live.”
“NO! T-They’re has to be…something!” I yell, angry, upset, tears already streaming down my pale face.
“No, Ry. There’s nothing that can be done.” He says, trying to plaster on a strong voice, when I know he’s as bad as I am.
“I’ll be out of the hospital for 2 months…and in for the last month. They say I can live regularly until then...but no more shows. We can finish up the last 3 shows…but then I have to stop.” He said, his voice breaking on the lost few words.
“I…I’ll come and get you.” I whispered, before hanging up the phone. I got up, washed my face, before turning to walk out of the tour bus. As I reached the steps, I saw a little orange bottle sticking out of Casey, our bus drivers, medicine bag. I reached in, took it out, and saw that it was Vicodin. I looked around, contemplating the good and bad of what I was about to do. I knew that I shouldn’t…but with what was happening I needed something to…numb the pain. I pop the top open, and pour two pills into my hand. I already had a high medication tolerance, so this should be good enough, I thought to myself. I swallow them dry, before walking out the door, and to the rental car we had, to go pick up one of my best friends.
“Cancer Ry….it’s too late…the doctors say I have 3 months left to live.”
“NO! T-They’re has to be…something!” I yell, angry, upset, tears already streaming down my pale face.
“No, Ry. There’s nothing that can be done.” He says, trying to plaster on a strong voice, when I know he’s as bad as I am.
“I’ll be out of the hospital for 2 months…and in for the last month. They say I can live regularly until then...but no more shows. We can finish up the last 3 shows…but then I have to stop.” He said, his voice breaking on the lost few words.
“I…I’ll come and get you.” I whispered, before hanging up the phone. I got up, washed my face, before turning to walk out of the tour bus. As I reached the steps, I saw a little orange bottle sticking out of Casey, our bus drivers, medicine bag. I reached in, took it out, and saw that it was Vicodin. I looked around, contemplating the good and bad of what I was about to do. I knew that I shouldn’t…but with what was happening I needed something to…numb the pain. I pop the top open, and pour two pills into my hand. I already had a high medication tolerance, so this should be good enough, I thought to myself. I swallow them dry, before walking out the door, and to the rental car we had, to go pick up one of my best friends.
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