The Story Of The MCR Buddies
Threats.
I ran as fast as my legs could take me, hoping that somehow, my legs were taking me to the comfort and peace of the tour bus. I couldn’t rely on my eyes to do so as they kept filling up with hot salty tears which, every so often had a habit of overflowing and running thick and fast down my face. At last, when I felt it was safe enough to stop moving, but still unaware of my surroundings, I sat on the ground, hyperventilating. How the hell I had managed to suppress this for the past week was beyond me. I thought back to the girls eyes, such admiration for my, our band. It seemed so great that it forced the very thing that I had tried and, up until now, managed to suppress to the back of my mind, to replay faster that I thought possible right in front of my very eyes. Gasping, I had turned around and fled as fast as I could away from there. I had caught a glimpse of Mikey, looking worriedly in my direction but I could not stop to explain, I had an overpowering desire to escape.
Now, sat against what I realised must have been the fence on the other side of the tour bus, safely hidden from view, I forced my breathing to slow. With trembling hands I pulled out the scrunched up piece of paper from my back pocket, where I had hastily hidden so no one else could find it. I looked for what must have been the hundredth time at the scrawl which made up the handwriting.
‘Your bands days are numbered, you know what to do.’
It was only a few words, but it had hurt me deeply, it was, after all my first threat but it felt so personal that I could not bring myself to tell the others, despite my conscience telling me otherwise. I knew that if I told the others then they’d tell me it was rubbish and to not worry about it, but what if it was true? What if my dad stayed true to his word, and did indeed do something to stop us from playing at the next gig? I knew that it wasn’t like my dad to do this, but that someone must have forced him to do it. Either that or his record company were in serious trouble. My mind was riddled with guilt and uncertainty, so much so that I was loosing sleep over the whole thing, which was just plain ridiculous. I mean, we were touring with our favourite band in the entire world, getting to play onstage every night and we were growing increasingly popular amongst the MCR fan base, and here I was, worrying about some stupid threat that was written in my Dads handwriting telling me that I had to sign to his record label or my band wouldn’t live to play the next gig. I knew that I would have to tell the others sooner or later, I just didn’t know how or when.
I must have fell asleep from exhaustion, because the next thing I knew was my name being called ‘Aimee, where are you?’ I wanted to call out, to tell whoever was calling that I was here, I was okay but I had no energy and my mouth seemed suddenly dry. I stumbled to my feet, in time to see Gerard walking around the corner. I panicked and fell backwards, hitting my head hard on the barbed wire. Cursing, I put my hand to my head to feel if it was okay; it felt damp as if with blood. I gasped as my hand came back into view, bright red. My vision started to falter and I felt myself slipping in and out of consciousness. The ground felt oddly comfortable now, and I had the sudden urge to sleep. I lay my head gingerly on the ground and let the blackness overwhelm me.
What seemed like a second later, but I knew it must have been longer than that, I felt warm arms pick me up and carry me back towards what I guessed must have been the tour bus.
‘What the hell happened Aimee? My god, you’re bleeding. Shush honey, you’re safe now.’
I felt that tears start again, but this time they wouldn’t stop, I didn’t care, Gerard had found me, it would be okay.
Now, sat against what I realised must have been the fence on the other side of the tour bus, safely hidden from view, I forced my breathing to slow. With trembling hands I pulled out the scrunched up piece of paper from my back pocket, where I had hastily hidden so no one else could find it. I looked for what must have been the hundredth time at the scrawl which made up the handwriting.
‘Your bands days are numbered, you know what to do.’
It was only a few words, but it had hurt me deeply, it was, after all my first threat but it felt so personal that I could not bring myself to tell the others, despite my conscience telling me otherwise. I knew that if I told the others then they’d tell me it was rubbish and to not worry about it, but what if it was true? What if my dad stayed true to his word, and did indeed do something to stop us from playing at the next gig? I knew that it wasn’t like my dad to do this, but that someone must have forced him to do it. Either that or his record company were in serious trouble. My mind was riddled with guilt and uncertainty, so much so that I was loosing sleep over the whole thing, which was just plain ridiculous. I mean, we were touring with our favourite band in the entire world, getting to play onstage every night and we were growing increasingly popular amongst the MCR fan base, and here I was, worrying about some stupid threat that was written in my Dads handwriting telling me that I had to sign to his record label or my band wouldn’t live to play the next gig. I knew that I would have to tell the others sooner or later, I just didn’t know how or when.
I must have fell asleep from exhaustion, because the next thing I knew was my name being called ‘Aimee, where are you?’ I wanted to call out, to tell whoever was calling that I was here, I was okay but I had no energy and my mouth seemed suddenly dry. I stumbled to my feet, in time to see Gerard walking around the corner. I panicked and fell backwards, hitting my head hard on the barbed wire. Cursing, I put my hand to my head to feel if it was okay; it felt damp as if with blood. I gasped as my hand came back into view, bright red. My vision started to falter and I felt myself slipping in and out of consciousness. The ground felt oddly comfortable now, and I had the sudden urge to sleep. I lay my head gingerly on the ground and let the blackness overwhelm me.
What seemed like a second later, but I knew it must have been longer than that, I felt warm arms pick me up and carry me back towards what I guessed must have been the tour bus.
‘What the hell happened Aimee? My god, you’re bleeding. Shush honey, you’re safe now.’
I felt that tears start again, but this time they wouldn’t stop, I didn’t care, Gerard had found me, it would be okay.