Almost Lost It All

How do you tell someone that's been there for you through everything that you're leaving them?

Not just leaving, but leaving again, and never coming back?

I look away from Zack with an empty soul. I don't know how to say it. I don't want to say it. He's the friend that's always stood by me. He's the one that's spent night after night with me in silence to make sure I would pull through alright. I'm cruel. I'm the most horrible person for doing this. But I have to. I'm so selfish, but it has to be done.

"Before you start talking, I have something to ask you." He says with an excited expression.

My eyes meet his and I can feel my eyelids heavy with the sleep I haven't been getting. I force my lips up into an effort of a smile, trying to be casual. I nod slightly at my friend, urging him to go on. Zack can't help the worried smile that appears on his face.

"Tomorrow night is our first show after a long, long time and it'd really mean a lot if you went. To all of us, really. All the girls are going so you obviously won't be alone. It's right here in the area, about ten minutes away from your place. You're back in the crew now, so it'd be awesome if you came," his voice gets hopeful, "and it'd be like an old show with you there. You could really bring back the spirit of The Rev, you know? What do you say?"

My heart drops. Familiar suffering takes control of my body. My senses dull, my brian becomes scrambled, and I lose feeling in my fingers. Zacky's eyes shine bright at me with hope. I hate how adorable this man is. I hate how I care about these people so much because I can't say no. And I try really hard to get my lips to form the simple word but I just can't say it to his face. I can't leave him when he looks at me like this. I sigh in defeat.

"Yeah..." I murmur, "I'll be there, Zacky."

A brilliant smile takes over his lips and he grabs my hand. He kisses my fingers gently.

"Thanks, Jen, don't worry about anything. You're going to love it." He reassures me.

I'll just have to tell them all that I'm leaving tomorrow night.

God, how I'm dreading it.

--

The bathroom tiles are cold on my forehead and I let my eyelids slide shut. I exhale slowly, willing the heat to leave my body. I can feel the fatigue in every pore, muscle, and bone inside of me. I faguely hope that I'll fall asleep next to the toilet with my burning skin flat against the freezing floor. But I have my eyes closed for only a minute before the memories come rushing in. I can't sleep like this. I can't sleep with this sickness all over me.

I roll over onto my back and rest a hand on my stomach as the nausea lifts like a wave inside of me once again. A distant realization crosses over my brain. Flashes of Zacky smiling pull me to the surface of reality. Rememberance of the day before makes my breath come up short for a moment. The show. Can I go? Will I be able to pull myself up off of this lonely, cold, wonderful floor to support my friends?

And what about leaving this place? The world scares me now. I'm so scared because everything can hurt me. Every little thing can get through the barrier I've tried to keep up for so long. One place I drive by, one person I see will remind me of him. Or them, really. The two most important people in my life. The pain pierces into my small heart just thinking about the life I could have had. The life I'm going to leave tonight.

I have to go to that show. I have to say goodbye once and for all. Forever.

With a huge effort I push myself up onto my feet. I pass the mirror with resentment, not checking my face for fear of severe thoughts. When I come out of the bathroom I realize how dark it is. I turn my head to look at the clock and see that I've been in my apartment alone for hours, spacing out on different floors for most of the day. I swallow down the urge to vomit along with the new found pity for myself. I pull my clothes on gingerly because every movement I make hurts in some different way. I run a brush through my hair and force myself out of my apartment.

The outside air would be refreshing if it wasn't so full of the past. And if I wasn't so beaten down I would feel a lot more pain coursing through my veins. Somehow I find relief in this sickness and this insomnia. It leaves me way too tired to concentrate or feel much more than faded agony. Maybe I'm numbing. Maybe I'm getting used to the pain.

I get into the rental car Zack left in front of my apartment and pull away from the curb. I ignore the shaking of my hands on the wheel. My nerves are beginning to rise. The harsh fact that this is the last time I'm going to see these people begins hitting at my brain. I stop at every street light longer than needed and spend minutes at each stop sign. The streets are just about empty. I go as slowly as possibly but after what seems like only a flash of time, I arrive at the venue right outside of Huntington Beach.

I grab the ticket stashed on the dash and get out of the car. Everything around me is a blur. I have to push myself forward to the entrance because I'm afraid of going inside. The woman at the door looks at me as if I'm dead and I know I must look it so I try my best not to act like it. I secretly wonder if I am. I wonder if this has all been on my road to redemption. I honestly hope so. I travel through the lobby and among the hallways alone. The familiar feeling before a show hits me for a moment, almost knocking me back, but it's not strong enough to phase the numbness. And so I smile slightly at memory of the excitement we all felt before every show years before. I was there, backstage, every single time to cheer them on. Now that's all gone.

When I push open the doors to the actual performance hall the screaming attacks my ears, forcing its way into my head, rattling my brain dangerously. When I move along the crowds in the aisles I try to brush off every touch. I get a few strange looks, as if I'm recognized, but I pass through like a lost soul. When I touch the bar to the mosh pit a feeling rushes into me. It's an abnormal feeling. A horrible feeling that knocks my senses to the edge and makes my body eletric with alert life. The chanting of 'A7X' enters one ear and passes out the other. A weight feels like it's on my tongue, weighing down the ability to speak or warn someone. I dive into the mosh, pushing people aside with as much force I can muster up. I push and shove and squeeze in between people to fight my way to the front. The nausea builds inside of me but I can't stop. All I need to do is get to security at the front, or get to the stage. I just need one of the guys to see me so I can tell them not to turn up the lights. They can't be seen. People forcefully push me back, fierce against my effort.

It seems as if the lights rise in slow motion but it all happens in a matter of minutes. The chanting evolves into hysterical screaming. I'm blinded, being tossed around relentlessly in a sea of fans, but I can still hear it. And I gasp at the frantic sound of crying.

"If Jimmy doesn't get to live, then none of you do..."

Then there's a gunshot. The excited screams turn to ones of horror, fear, and tragedy. Two more gunshots sound before security tackles a crying man holding a pistol. People rush around all over the place as I turn to look up toward the stage. Someone is down. Fear grips me as I push hard to get to the railing and over, so I can get up onto the stage. I scream for someone to notice me, scream for information. I fight to see who's hurt and fight to find out what's going on. As if the voices are amplified, I hear the name being shouted by my friends.

"GATES!"

I scream harder. I push harder. I try harder. When I get to the bar a security guard pushes on my shoulders, willing me back into the crowd of panicking people. I beg and beg to be let onto the stage. I scream to Zack and Matt and Johnny. I scream for Brian. And as I look closer all I see is the deep red blood seeping onto the stage floor. Adrenaline hits me hard in the chest. In one swift move I climb over the bar and escape from the security guard. I climb onto the stage and fall onto my knees next to Brian.

He's incredibly pale, as pale as Jimmy was that fateful morning, and I push back tears. Everyone around me saying our names are ghosts to me as I touch his face with shaking hands. Slowly, his eyes open. He looks at me. A look of contentment washes over the wince of pain on his face. Tears well up into my eyes as I shake my head at him, physically telling him not to give up. It's going to be okay. It has to be. God isn't so cruel. No one can be so mean. I have to believe that. I can't let go so soon.

Brian reaches up and takes my hand from his face. With effort he presses my bloody fingers to his lips. His eyes hold no pain, just relief. Happiness. A strange calming wave of emotion. He inhales shakily as people shout around the both of us.

A sob breaks out from my chest as he smiles a little and lets his eyes close again. I'm alive with fear. I'm alive with love. Because I know that if he dies here then I die too. Because there is no way I'm going to live without him. One can't be breathing on this earth without the other one. When he is gone, I'll be gone too. We're meant to be with each other forever and always. I love him, he loves me, so I will follow him anywhere he goes. If he lives then I'm not going to hide anymore. I'm going to show him how much I love him. We're going to have a family and get married and be happy. Because he is all of that to me. My happiness. He's my present. He's my future.

But if death is the next adventure for him, it's going to our next adventure.