Someone out There Loves You

[APPROXIMATELY TWO HOURS EARLIER.]
As I blended into the crowd, I wasn’t really sure where I was going. I hadn’t been in the city for a while and I was trying to think of somewhere to go. I had fifty dollars in my pocket, my phone, no appetite. My parents, Gerard, and Mikey were all trying to get a hold of me.
Wow. Did they really think I would answer?
I still didn’t feel like me anymore. Furious, hateful, shocked. I just wanted to change something, somehow…
I got that chance.
As I turned a corner I found myself in the indie-esque part of the city. The first thing on the street corner was a combination tattoo/piercing/hair place. I was afraid of needles so the first two were out of the question. The hair, on the other hand, was exactly what I needed.
I walked into the store. Ironically, as some Sex Pistols track finished overhead, Mechanics came on. I could’ve jumped off a building with how much it hurt to hear my own voice.
“'Sup?” Some big burly dude behind the counter greeted me. “What can I help you with?”
“Something rather dramatic, actually. I had a really shit night and I need a change.” I grabbed my hair. “Can I hack this off and dye it?”
He grinned at me. “Oh I can totally do that for you.” He pointed to a wall on my left. “Pick any color, we’ve got fucking everything.”
I walked over and scanned it. I grabbed a bottle of Raw Deep Purple. “How’s this one come out?”
“Pff, absolutely raw,” he said. “No pun intended. It’s a dark purple but you get these awesome pinkish streaks in it.”
“Can I get a short cut and a dye with this?” He nodded. “How much?”
He walked over and grabbed the bottle from my hand, scanning how long my hair was and doing the math in his head. “Holy hell… this is kind of a weird question but… are you Clayah Shier?”
You must be joking.
I chuckled though. “Yeah, I am.”
“Holy… I love your band! You guys are my FAVORITE band right now!”
I let out a really honest laugh. “Dude, how old are you?”
“Twenty two.”
“Then I’m seriously flattered.”
“Wow… wait, you really want to hack your hair off?”
“Hell yes.”
“Free of charge.”
“Oh, bro, you really don’t—“
“I am.” He shuffled me over to a chair with hair stuff everywhere. “The fact that I just met you is payment enough. I couldn’t let the chance to dye Clayah Shier’s hair purple.”
Totally what I needed.

I walked out of the shop an hour later, feeling a lot better. That was exactly what I needed. I’d never had a pixie cut before (well, a little longer), or dyed my hair. Not that I wasn’t still totally furious, but I felt amazing. Although I was forced to look like an asshole and pop my collar to keep my neck from freezing.
I headed out of the indie area and down the street again. I finally decided to head towards Barnes & Noble. I could use their Starbuck’s without being found. And something to get my mind of my life.
When I got there, I grabbed a coffee. Cue soul healing. I strolled over to the magazines, preparing to amuse myself with some Hollywood garbage.
I scanned for a People or a Cosmo when something caught my eye. My own face. On the cover of Alternative Press.
It was from Rush And Ruin’s photoshoot with Erin all those months ago. Yoda had told us the issue would be published soon, but he hadn’t tracked us down to tell us when. I pulled it off the shelf and checked the cover. The band’s name was sprawled where our feet should be, tagline beneath it.
Rush And Ruin: Breaking The Barrier One Grade At A Time.
That was exactly us. Life made.
I flipped the pages to the article about us. It was a two page spread with our picture across it, and our stab to sexism (which was so fun). Levi examined a bra, Monster had a tampon shoved up each nostril and grinned like a stoned idiot, I had a pair of briefs pulled over my jeans and smiled proudly, Mark held a mini mirror and applied mascara and lipstick, and Drew held and athletic cup over her nose.
In that moment I remembered just how much I loved our band. If they had known they would’ve told me seconds later. They would never turn like that on me. No matter what I knew I had to go back and finish this tour. I wouldn’t talk to the rest of the guys if I didn’t have to; this was bigger than me. These were my friends and my family. Big Happy Family.
Now too literal for my liking.
I got so emotional looking at how ridiculous we were that I couldn’t breathe. Maybe it was from the running and shaking and adrenaline of my haircut rebellion, too. I couldn’t even read the article then.
I took a huge slug of coffee and headed around the rack to the counter to buy the magazine. Afterword I would go back to the House Of Blues. To where it all began. I’d find my real friends; Mark would call me by my nickname and hug me while I cried. Drew would find my ice to chew—she knew I did that when I was angry. Levi and Monster would make pot after pot of coffee...
As I turned the corner I slammed directly into someone. A very, very, very angry Neanderthal.
“Shit Shier,” Darren grinned. In that moment I had a mental picture of James Dean with devil horns and one of those pitchfork things. “Funny to find you here. But I guess I’d track you down eventually. Flying monkeys move fast.”
I swallowed the memories of all the morning in the hallway and all the bruises on my stomach. I needed to run. Darren wouldn’t hurt me in the bookstore but he’d find a way to get me out.
“Nice hair,” he teased. “But you know… I really hate purple.” I couldn’t speak. Darren grabbed my upper arm tightly. “Come on. We’re gonna go for a little walk.” He snatched the AP out of my hand and tossed it away. “Say anything, yell for help, and you’re dead,” he promised.
He summoned me out the door and into the cold night. He whipped me sharply around a corner into the alley behind the Barnes & Noble. He walked so we were in the shadows, then threw me onto the concrete. I hit my forehead on the ground, and immediately felt blood drip down my face.
I tried to stand but got a boot in the face. A sharp crack echoed as Darren’s heel connected with my cheekbone.
“You’ve got some fucking nerve!” This time he kicked me in the stomach, multiple times. "You insult me and my girlfriend. When you're just TRASH." I felt like I was going to be sick, and I was after four more kicks. Bile and blood were mixed together on the pavement.
“Pff, Jesus Shier,” he scoffed. “Doesn’t jumping around on a stage get you hurt? Funny; you’re an easy bleeder…”
“I have heart disease, dumbass.” Oohh I shouldn’t have said that.
Darren’s eyes turned red. No, seriously. A vein ran thick down his neck. He reached down and tangled his hands into my short hair, yanking. He slammed my head down on the ground. Another gash in to forehead.
I used all the strength in my to reach out and claw at his Achille’s tendon. My long nails dug in and Darren cried out, tumbling back. I pulled myself up, head spinning. The last time I felt like this was the car accident.
Darren let his pain go fast and reached out to twisted my arm, I heard another sharp crack and saw all white.
“You stupid little bitch!” He kneed me in the stomach so hard it knocked the wind out of me. I was losing my hearing and I heard two more cracks. My ribs.
All this because I'd hacked my hair off and dyed it purple. On top of the verbal beatdown. I knew Darren was that low of a person.
I understood then how much blood I was losing. In every place I’d been hit skin was breaking. But suddenly, Darren released me. I fell back against the brick wall.
As faded as my vision was, I saw three figures going at Darren. Two had him by the arms while the other punched him across the face.
Gerard?
Another just let go and let loose, slamming Darren where the sun doesn't shine..
Mikey?
“Don’t you ever dare attack Clayah again!’ Gerard screamed. He’d used the same voice with Ryan. “You stupid motherfucker.” On the last inflection he punched Darren again. This time he went unconscious.
The third figure twisting his arm let go. She looked down at Darren, and couldn’t resist the urge to slam her foot onto his rib cage.
Molly?
“If I could do that to everyone I hated in high school,” Gerard said, “I’d be complete.”
"Clayah!" Mikey stepped toward me but stopped in gasped. I was standing in the only light now, a bright bulb hung on the brick wall. “Jesus Christ are you…”
I didn’t hear the rest. My knees wavered and I fell on my face. Then everything was black and quiet.