Not Afraid to Die

"Do I hear a whip sounding?" Lestat asked, cupping a hand around his ear.

"Stop picking on him and go eat," Neon commanded.

"Yes, mommy."

Lestat led the way from the room, followed by the rest of the male musicians. Sighing, Lolita rubbed her head, hoping to rid of her headache until more morphine was given to her.

"Don't feel well?" Neon asked.

"Just another headache. I think the morphine is wearing off and the drip won't allow me to take in anymore for another hour."

"I thought they normally allowed the morphine drip to keep you from feeling any pain until you were allowed to administer another dose."

"It was working like that yesterday."

"But it's not like that today?"

Lolita shook her head.

"Does that mean you're getting worse?" Jazz asked, walking further into the room and stopping near Dante's chair.

"Don't know," Lolita mumbled.

That was a lie. She knew she was getting worse. She had been knowing she was getting worse. No amount of morphine could hide that. Morphine could take away the pain, could make her a little bit happier, could make it easier for her to be hyper. But she still felt drained of energy.

She was beginning to think this would actually kill her. It certainly wasn't at its worst, but it would get there. Her body wasn't properly equipped to fight that, medical treatment or not.

But she was trying not to think about that, no matter how hard it was to keep her possible death from her mind.

"Maybe you should ask for more medicine," Jazz suggested, "I mean, the doctor's don't want you to be in pain while you go through treatment. You should consider it."

Lolita shrugged. She didn't want to talk about being sick. That was too depressing of a topic. She needed to change the subject.

She glanced around the room, searching for something, anything, to drive them away from her sickness. Her eyes caught on the marks adorning the underside of Jazz's arm, and she almost jolted at the sight of the jagged, angry line.

No wonder Jazz used to wear bracelets all the time.

It didn't take long for Jazz to notice the young female's attention shift. She crossed her arms over her chest, hiding the marks from Lolita's moss green eyes. That didn't deter Lolita's attention from the scars. She grabbed one of Jazz's arms, and flipped it over. The marks looked even scarier on full display. Some were red, some were light pink, some were white. There were words and long lines. No scar looked the same, but the intent behind them was.

"Why would you do this?" Lolita asked, her gaze staying on Jazz's arm.

Tension filled the air, thick and suffocating. Lolita knew her question was personal. But she didn't care. She wanted to know.

Arpeggio and Neon shifted uncomfortably, glancing at each other. Sighing, Jazz took a seat in the chair at Lolita's bedside, the one Dante hadn't moved from for long periods of time since she was put in the hospital.

"I was," Jazz hesitated, "hurt by people I thought I could trust."

"So you resorted to cutting your body?" Lolita asked, looking up at Jazz.

Her tone didn't hold disgust, only curiosity.

"It was the only way I could handle it," Jazz answered.

"What did they do to you that was so bad?"

Jazz was silent for a moment. It had only been five months since she admitted this to her friends and subsequently the fans. It was still hard to talk about. She sidestepped the question in a lot of interviews, not wanting to talk about it. The only person outside of her band circle that she had talked about it personally with was her stepfather, and he had seen the trial case on television before confronting her about it.

As much as she wanted to avoid the discomfort of talking about it, she didn't want to deny Dante's younger sibling the information.

It was those eyes, so innocent and curious.

"They raped me," Jazz said.

"How does cutting yourself solve a problem like that?"

"I was depressed. It was the only thing that made me feel better."

"I get depressed, too, but I don't cut myself. I beg daddy to buy me a goldfish," she paused, "He always says 'no,' but I think he'll cave one day and I'll be able to buy an arsenal of fish that I can train to do aerial tricks."

"It's not the same thing."

"Not the same thing?" Lolita echoed. "I know how cruel life is. I was born with HIV. I had no say in the matter. My mother had no say in the matter. And now, I'm dying, Jazz. You don't think that makes me sad. I'm leaving Dante and daddy behind, and there's nothing I can do about it aside from wait. But, you know what? I would never cut up my body because of that."

"What do you mean you're dying? I thought the doctor was giving you medication to get rid of the infection."

"They are, but I don't think I'm going to make it out this time."

It wasn't something she admitted to Dante or their father yet, and she didn't know if she could. She hadn't even admitted it out loud until that moment, and it hurt her to say it. She wanted to remain blissfully unaware until she died, and she wanted her family to be the same way. But her immune system was hitting its weakest point. She didn't have the health she needed to fight. Not this time.

She probably wouldn't bring her family to that harsh reality.

Saying it out loud brought tears to her eyes, she didn't want to find out how much it hurt to tell her brother and father.

"Don't say that," Neon demanded, perching near Lolita's feet, "You're going to make it. You always make it. You're Lolita fucking Anderson. You beat illnesses like no one's business."

Neon didn't understand. No one in the room understood.

"Do you know what its like," Lolita started, "to have HIV? You never know what day will be your last, when some illness is going to strike and kill you. You can't catch a cold and ride it out because it might become something more than just a cold. Everything hurts all the time. You have to take a massive amount of pills just to function through the day." Lolita sniffled, wiping a stray tear from her eyes. "I've fought for eighteen years. Its time I accept defeat."

"You can't."

One glance around the room proved they still didn't understand.

"It'd be better if I did. I wouldn't hurt anymore. Dante and daddy wouldn't have to worry about me being sick. It would be so much easier to let this take me. Everyone would be better off without—"

"Stop that," Arpeggio exclaimed, cutting Lolita off. "Never say that the fuck again."

The command ripped from Arpeggio's lips like a growl. Confused, Lolita stared at her. Arpeggio never raised her voice like that, never growled a command, at Lolita. Arpeggio was timid, scared of her own shadow sometimes. Or that was the Arpeggio Lolita remembered. Even when they talked in the hallway of the recording studio, Arpeggio hadn't raised her voice above a normal speaking volume.

More had changed than she realized.

"I used to think you were lucky," Arpeggio stated, "Did you know that? Not because you had a father and a brother who didn't have to work to provide for you. It had nothing to do with your family life. No, you have HIV. When I met you, I was jealous that you had an illness that could kill you off quicker than diabetes. I thought that if I could just find a way to contract it from you, I could have it, too. That if I had it, I wouldn’t have to try to kill myself. I could let the illness kill me. Diabetes and HIV, that's a KO right there."

"You tried to kill yourself?" Lolita asked.

That was news to her.

"Yeah, and I thought you were the luckiest girl on the planet. If you wanted to die, you could just stop trying. I hadn't thought about how difficult it was for you to handle this, I hadn't thought how great of person you were, I hadn't thought about anything. And right now, if I were still in that mindset, I would accept you letting go because I would think it's your choice."

Tears sat on Arpeggio's eyelashes, ready to roll down her cheeks. Lolita nearly held her breath listening to her talk.

"If you give up now, I'm going to be so pissed," Arpeggio said, "You're such an amazing person, full of light and energy. You deserve to live. Yeah, you've fought for a long time, and you're going to fight for a long time after this. No one will be able to handle not having you around, because you show everyone that life is worth living no matter what. Who's supposed to brighten my day with her senseless babble if you give up?"

Lolita didn't answer, just stared, lips parted, tears streaking down her face. She hadn't realized her presence, her ability live, had meant that much. Maybe it wasn't time to give up just yet. There were still things she needed to do.

Like train an arsenal of goldfish.