Never Regret

A few days passed into November. The morning after the Halloween gig, we’d travelled 3 and a half hours to Dallas, Texas, and that’s where we are now. Today we get to do whatever we want, seeing as there are four days till the gig, but Logan has called a practice. Because he’s decided he wants to change our cover song. Seeing as it was a day off for us, I was wearing a pair of purple short shorts, a University of Detroit Wolverines hoodie (that a home fan had donated to us) and my black and white DCs. My hair was flat and I only had a bit of eyeliner on, but I was comfy so I didn’t care.

“So I was thinking, remember one of our first ever gigs that we did? Back in Detroit?” Logan asked us all.

“Fuck, not really,” Reece yawned.

“Vaguely,” I shrugged, JC agreeing with me.

“You guys suck. Okay, well, our cover for that was Girl I Know, you know, the Avenged Sevenfold one. And I think we should do it again,” Logan grinned.

“I love that song!” JC whooped.

“We do need to add a spice of what we used to be like,” Reece nodded.

“I’m in,” I chuckled.

“Uh, we’ll have to practice on acoustic for now, but I’ll sort out with Pete to practice in the venue tomorrow. Reece, you’ll just have to use your sticks on the table or something,” Logan smiled.

Reece laughed and nodded, reaching for his drumsticks that were lying on the small kitchen counter.

“Alright, ready?” Logan asked.

“I think I remember it,” JC snickered.

“Let me tell you about a girl I know,
That comes alive when you take off her clothes,
There's no telling just where she's been,
Ask around but no one seems to know yeah.

Late at night when you're looking to sin,
Call her up and she'll lay down the law,
You can't trust her cause she'll lie to your face,
But that's not why you gave her a call.

Waist deep inside,
Now that's the burning desire.

We've all been more than eager to sin,
And it feels alright,
Til we pay the price,
Now you choose either, naughty or nice,
Cause she's here for you it's all yours tonight.

You won't believe the stories I've been told,
About a girl I know”

“Wait, stop,” I sighed.

Taylor and the boys frowned at me, doing so.

“Something still doesn’t feel right,” I grumbled.

“With the song?” Reece frowned.

“No, something else,” I replied, shaking my head.

“Oh, you mean what you said before the Halloween show,” Taylor said, guessing.

“Yuh, exactly,” I nodded, scratching my head.

“What’s going on?” Logan frowned.

I sighed, running my hands through my hair. I should probably tell them.

“I just got this weird feeling. Like something bad is going to happen. Like something’s going to go wrong. I don’t know what it is and I don’t like it,” I explained.

My bandmates stared at me for a few seconds.

“Mack, I’m sure it’s nothing,” JC reassured.

I rolled my eyes. I knew I’d get that reaction.

“Seriously, you get these feelings all the time. They never come to anything, remember?” JC pointed out.

Wrong.

“This is different,” I pouted.

“Try not to think about it, Mack. It’s only a feeling,” Logan urged.

“I don’t think you’re right. Look, I need a break. Carry on without me,” I muttered.

I laid my acoustic down in my seat as I stood up, grabbing my cigarettes and sidekick off the side as I headed off the bus. I paused at the door, scrolling down my cellphone to the person that I knew would make me feel better about this.

Mack: Hey, Michael?
Michael: Yeah, babe?
Mack: Could you come over? That weird feeling won’t go away.

I’d told him about it, because he’d overheard Taylor and I talking about it after the Halloween gig.

Michael: Yeah, sure. I’ll just finish up what I’m doing.
Mack: Thanks, I’ll see you soon.

I ended the call and left the bus, shutting the door behind me. My legs got a slight chill from the November air, but I lit up one of my cigarettes anyway, taking a deep drag, letting the nicotine sooth me. I carried on sucking on my cancer stick, smiling as I heard footsteps coming up behind me. Two arms wrapped around my waist and I closed my eyes as a pair of lips pressed tender kisses into my neck.

“Michael,” I moaned.

“Who the fuck is Michael?” the person chuckled.

I shrieked and spun around, dropping my cigarette and sidekick as I saw a broad-shouldered, heavily muscled, tattooed man with jet-black hair and a cold smirk. The man that had hurt me so many years ago.

“Joseph,” I whimpered.