Catastrophic Hymns

Francesca stared at the razor. She could swear it was mocking her, staring right back.

You thought you could use me. Ha. She glared at it.

"Shut the fuck up."

You thought I'd give you release. You thought I'd let you escape. It laughed again.

"Shut up."

But he found you. Torben dearest found you there, bleeding. He wouldn't let you do it. He saved you. He took you to the hospital.

"Just shut the fuck up."

Look at the scars. Look at the memories I've left. Go ahead, look.

She rolled her sleeve up and looked at the skinny lines running up and down her arm, and the two thick ones at both wrists, where she had tried to end it just months before.

"Memories fade."

But scars don't. And every time you see them, you'll remember. No matter how hard you try to forget. No matter how much you think you've gotten over it. You never will. He's under your skin. You sealed him in when you did that.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP." She wrenched her sleeve down again.

And now you're crying. Ha. You're weak. You-

"Just shut up..." She sobbed until she'd drained herself of all emotion.

Then she added another line to her collection on her arm.

"Cesca?"

Mike's voice jerked her out of her memory. She shook her head.

"Yeah, sorry," she said quietly.

"Wow, Frankie, it's been... What, six years?" Bill asked.

"Yeah. Six years, Bill."

"You're still gorgeous... Maybe even more so... Shit... I'd fuck you right here, right now, if I could..." She snorted as Mike spluttered.

"What the fuck, dude!" Bill jumped, as if he'd just remembered Mike was there.

"Oh, sorry man." Cesca smirked; Tré picked up her soda and handed it to her.

"Thanks, dude," She murmured as Billie and Mike continued to talk.

"No problem, Hottie. Open it towards Mikey."

"Why?" He sidled over to her and whispered in her ear.

"Because it's all shooken up, and it'll spray all over him, and it'll be fantastic!" He wiggled his eyebrows. She laughed slightly and threw it away. Mike gaped at her.

"I just payed a buck-fifty for that!" She sat back down.

"Sorry." He shook his head. "What? It was all shooken up. I'll just get a complementary one on the flight. It's okay, Mike. Calm down." He stared at her.

"I just payed a buck-fifty for that." She walked over to him and gripped his upper arms lightly.

"I know. I'm sorry, okay? I'll pay you back. I think I have a buck-fifty in my bank account... Maybe... I hope... Anyway, I'll pay you back-"

"No, it's okay... Really." he added when she raised an eyebrow.

"You sure? I know a buck-fifty is a lot these days. I don't want you out on the streets because I wasted-"

"Cesca." She laughed faintly and let go of him.

"You haven't changed at all," Billie murmured. She shook her head.

"Neither have you. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go throw myself off a cliff." She started walking away from them.

She couldn't do this. She couldn't face going on tour with him... Seeing him every day... She couldn't handle him digging up long-forgotten memories.

She quickened her pace when she heard Mike's footsteps behind her. He lightly grabbed her upper arm, and she spun around.

"What the fuck, Cesca?" he asked, confusion and concern written all over his face. She sighed.

"I can't do this, Mike. I don't think... I just... can't. You know what happened. I-"

"Cesca, our stuff is alredy in the fucking plane. If you think I'm gonna lug your shit all around Europe..." She smiled faintly.

"And you won't see him that much, I promise. We'll have a separate suite... Just you and me, okay?" he added. She sniffled and looked away.

"It just... It hurts to look at him, you know?" He sighed again and wrapped his arms around her. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"I know... I know, babe... But you can do this. I know you can." She snorted and kissed his cheek.

"Thanks."

"Hey!" Tré yelled. "Hottie and Mike! We should get over to the terminal!"

"My name is Cesca," she called back as she stepped back from Mike.

"I know. Mike and Billie have their own names for you. Why can't I?" Tré asked childishly and pouted. Cesca laughed and made her way back to the guys.

"Okay, you can call me Hottie." Tre whooped and danced his way to the terminal.

"Is he always like this?" she asked and walked next to Mike.

"Pretty much."

***

Francesca woke up in a white room. She looked around, confused as hell. Where the fuck was she?

Then she saw the monitors beside her.

Oh fuck.

She was in a hospital. It figured. No one would just let her commit suicide, would they? She felt her wrists; they were heavily bandaged.

"Fuck."

She saw Torben sleeping on the chair beside her bed. He must have found her. He blinked a few times, and, when he saw her, jumped up.

"Cesca! You're awake! Thank fuck! We were so fucking scared... We thought you were... um..."

"Dead? Yeah, that's what I wanted to be."

She woke up with a jolt. She was on the plane, not in the hospital. Fuck, why couldn't she stop remembering?

Four years ago, she had slit her wrists. She couldn't take the empty feeling anymore.

But Torben had found her bleeding on the bathroom floor. He took her to the hospital.

She'd gotten so mad at him for that. She didn't speak to him for months. He didn't understand-

"Excuse me? Miss?" the stewardess said politely.

"Yes?" Cesca said.

"Would you like a beverage?"

"Um... Coke, please." The woman handed her a small cup filled with the dark brown liquid. She thanked her and took a drink.

Why did she have to keep remembering?