New Perspective

Six Months Ago

The loud music pounded my eardrums as I sipped my cool drink, eyes scanning the crowd at my usual hangout as I leaned back against the bar. Not spotting any familiar faces, I turned around to face the bar jiggling my now empty glass at the sweaty bartender who happily took it from me and making my usual drink without even having to as what it was.

It was kind of pathetic. I knew he was trying to catch my interest, but it wasn’t working. I only pitied him. I took my drink from him without a word and without a tip, and stalked away from the bar, moving into the dancing crowd.

I left the club, drunk on several mojitos. I smiled up at the night sky, the night being my favorite time of the day. I felt carefree and alive, like I could take on the world.

I didn’t live far from my apartment, and I enjoyed the feeling of the cool breeze brushing over my hot skin delicately; the best feeling after hours of dancing and having fun.

But the fun doesn’t last forever.

The feeling of cold, harsh brick scraping the exposed skin of my arms. A bruise forming on the side of my face. A scream caught in my throat, lungs feeling like they’re going to explode. And a pitiful bartender, pressed up against me even as the hot tears stream down my face.

I had always thought that things like this wouldn’t happen to people like me…

Present

My worst memory always appeared unexpectedly in my dreams, and when it did, I felt unsafe; unclean. I was thankful in this moment that the memory forced its way into my mind the night I was in a hotel room.

I was sharing a room with Claire and thankfully she was still asleep. I had woken up quite suddenly, silent tears escaping from under my eyelids. I quietly slipped into the bathroom and started the shower. Whenever I was forced to relive that night, I would make my way into the shower soon after, scrubbing hard at my skin in an attempt to rid myself of the memory.

That night had changed me. I no longer had that confidence I used to have. I hated dancing. I loathed the night. I hated the way the dark hid things in its shadows.

---

“You’re leaving?” Claire asked, shocked the next morning.

“I can’t do this,” I answered. “I thought I could, but it’s just not working.”

I hadn’t been able to fall back asleep after my shower. I had been afraid of the memory plaguing my dreams yet again.

“I mean, I’ve been practicing the music for how long now?” I questioned. “And I still can’t seem to get it right. Patrick’s pissed at me after every show.”

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I turned away from the bag I had been packing to look at Claire.

“You shouldn’t give up,” she said. “From what I can tell, the rest of the band loves you. You just need to relax and have some fun. Stop worrying so much.”

I walked across the hotel room and plopped down into a chair.

“Maybe you’re right,” I said quietly. “I’ve just been so stressed out lately. I used to have so much fun playing the bass.”

“You can still have fun playing,” Claire said. “You’re just letting Patrick get to you. Seriously, just relax.”

“I’ll try,” I said with sigh. I smiled up at Claire, glad that I had someone like her as a friend on this tour. Someone who could talk some sense into me.