Calculus Zero.

The night just flew by and once everything was packed up in the storage space of the tour bus, we were all aboard and were driving to the next city. I was in the kitchen by myself, finishing off the ironing whilst everyone else was in the living room, chowing down on Chinese I'd made previously in the day. I hadn't joined them and had no intentions to do so. I still had loads of laundry to iron for them to wear tomorrow. They had to at least look respectable, even if they really weren't in person.

I ran my tongue over the cold metal that was in my mouth, more so known as a “lip ring”. I never wanted to take it out, after I'd begged my mother endlessly for one and for her to pay it for me. It was the last thing she'd ever get to buy for me, and despite that she hated it so, it was still special. To me. I missed her so much; but I never mourned her, I never cried for her, I never had the courage to give her the funeral burial she so deserved, I never went to the police for her, to put him behind bars for what he did. I was cold, and heartless. But most of all, a fat coward. Naturally, I ran, instead of sticking up for what was right.

“Hey.” I heard a voice pitch to me, as I had my hands set on ironing and my mind focused on my selfishness towards my mother. I snapped my attention upwards, to find singer boy – aka the lead vocalist – leant against the doorway, staring at me. “Are you coming in to join us with eating...? It's really nice... The food, I mean.”

“I'd rather not... I'm obviously not welcomed, and I'm not very hungry. Sorry.” I remarked in a quiet tone, keeping my eyes fixed with his. “And thanks. Compliments are so hard to come across lately.”

“Ah.” He remarked, nodding in what I believed to either be understanding or annoyance. I'm voting for the second... “You look distracted. Tired, actually. Are you sleeping well?”

I raised an eyebrow at him. I'd been working here for a year and not once, had they ever crossed me as caring for me. They never bothered to care if they wore me down and nearly killed me. They never cared if I was fucking starving and killing my ass to do everything, whilst they just chilled and ate... Now out of nowhere, he's asking me if I was sleeping well? What the heck had this guy been drinking?

“I'm sleeping fine.” I lied, not wanting to go into further details about Insomnia and Nightmares that prevented me from rarely sleeping a night.

“Well, okay.” He shrugged, not completely convinced by my lack of enthusiasm. “I'll save you some food and leave it in the micro.” With that, he started to walk away.

I shook my head in disbelief, telling myself that was a mirage and didn't even happen. That just didn't seem humanly possible. I got snapped out of my thoughts by a burning sensation on my finger.

“Ouch!” I winced, realising I'd burnt my finger on the iron, still in a daze from singer boy's sudden concern. It startled me.

The night soon rolled by, and every one had nipped off to bed. They were up at 4AM to catch
a plane flight. I however, was sat on the couch, a mug of warm coffee wrapped around my fingers. My mind was on overload about everything that happened today, mostly earlier when I was ironing. I was trying to tell myself not to believe it, for tomorrow singer boy would end up hating me, just like he previously did, like the rest of the gang.

“Mommy! Come here!” I called in my childish voice, that was my own.

“Come here, mommy! I found you a flower!”

“Pipe down faggot-face!” I heard a brutal yell come from the nastiest man I'd ever met.

“Oh, Earnest. There's no need to yell at her.” I heard my mom's voice soothe the 'gentleman' beside her, her psychotic husband to calmness.

I continued to sit in the field of flowers, in the field that could go on for miles and miles, that was attached to our cottage. The field belonged to my mommy. And it was my most favoritest place in the whole wide world!

I will always come here, to sit and play in the fields, to pick flowers for my mommy! She loved flowers! Her name was Petal. And I adored her! Just as much as I adored watching the horses run free with their herds and watching the green grass grow and become lifeless through the many months of a year. This place was heaven on earth.

And it was all mine. All mine for the keeping.

“Quixote, why are the lights still on?” I heard a voice snap me out of the flash back that was playing before my eyes, changing the tour bus scenery into a gorgeous green fields of wild, horses and flowers. A field... that use to be my home.

I looked up from where the field use to be but had now gone. It was him, the one who usually was incredibly nasty to me. The nastiest of them all. He hated me and I never understood why. He looked tired and disturbed; probably due to the fact that I had left the lights on and it had awoken him from his slumbers.

“Sorry, couldn't sleep.” I mumbled.

I was waiting for him to explode on me. But oddly enough, he didn't. Instead his face morphed into one of somewhat confusion and consideration of gentleness.

“Quixote...are you crying?” He asked quietly.

Wthout realisation, mournful tears are swept and graced my pale, freckled cheeks during the flash back. And they were still caressing my skin. Yet, I didn't feel them... Why couldn't I feel my own fresh tears? I hadn't cried in years. I was never allowed too. It was a weakness, and I, clearly was weak then. If I wasn't back then, I know for sure now, that I am.

“It's nothing. I'll turn the lights out.” I remarked, brushing them away quickly with my jumper sleeve.

“Don't bullshit me, Quixote!”

“Frank. Just...leave me. Please.” I pleaded, never begging him for anything in all the time I'd known him!

“Okay.”

The night lagged on, till it became lighter and people around me had started to arise from their deep slumbers. I in comparison to the five guys looked absolutely awful! I hadn't slept for the fourth night running. Flashbacks and nightmares plagued me. I couldn't escape from them like I once could.

“Fucking hell, Quixote! Stick some eyeliner and foundation on!” Mikey snarled at me, giving me his moody morning orders. “You'll put us to shame by looking like that!”

“I haven't got any, genius!” I snapped back.

Mikey dove his hand into his pocket and pulled out a long, black stick. Once he examined it for two seconds, he threw the black stick at me and ordered me to go “put some life” to my face in the bathroom.

I wasn't in any mood to be yelled at today or have any focus on me, so I did what was asked off me, without hesitation or any smart-back remarks. When I re-entered the kitchen, the guys were chowing down the breakfast I had prepared and was waiting for them on the kitchen counter. There was no moans or grumbles. Thankfully.

We arrived at the airport and like the not-so-obvious smart-ass that I was trying to be, I tried to manage to lug around with me all my luggage – which was so very little – and all the guys stuff at the same time. Can you imagine how difficult this probably is to succeed, especially when you have people trying to mow you over and knock you to your ass with their dangerously swinging bags of shit too? To make the matter in hand worst, I had been separated from the band and had no idea where the fuck I was meant to be heading!

“Could this day get any better?” I sarcastically asked myself inside my head.

And with that thought, I swore on my life that I just jinxed my already poor luck, because out of nowhere, some guy swung around to hear if someone had been yelling for him and in the process of him doing so, he knocked me to the floor with his bag. What a great impact!

I landed right on my ass and the guys luggage as well as my own just flew everywhere to the floor, flying across the airport floors and causing people to scream as they saw random suitcases of shit randomly heading towards them for an impact!

“QUIXOTE! YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” I heard a bellowing yell above the noisy airport.

But my heart was pounding in my chest, my breathing was going restless, I could've died on the spot where I was flat out on my ass. Stood up before me, looking down upon me, was the man in my nightmares who I always dreaded, the man I'd been slipping out of his very dangerously grasps for over a year, the man that took my mother away from me, the man that was my own step-father.

“I am very sorry. Are you alright?” Earnest asked me, though his eyes cut through me. He knew it was me. I could tell.

I could only nod in response, frozen to the spot. My heart was beating out of time, my chest was tightening, hurting, as my breathing raced and caused me to feel all light-headed. This was worse than I'd ever feared. This was worse than watching a nightmare replay night after night after night. Earnest Lukesworth The 2nd was right before me. The murdering, lying, cheating bastard that he was stood just above me. And I couldn't move. I was stuck on the floor, until suddenly...everything became hazy, my head got lighter and lighter... and before I even realised what happened to me, I was floating in a scene of pitch black.