The Story of Rage and Love

The next day came way too soon. You weren't ready to wake up. That night you dreamt about Billie, and you almost thought it was real. But when you woke up, you found no one was there. No one ever was..
It had been awhile since you had been at your old apartment. It was just as dire as it always was, but you loved it, and no amount of fame would make you leave it.
Brittany and Sam kept complaining about how disgusting it was, they couldn't believe you guys were still living there after all the bank you had made on the album. But you ignored them. This apartment had charm, and memories, and you weren't about to abandon it.
"This place smells so fucking bad," Brittany complained as she stared at her reflection.
"Shut up," you said rudely. You were not going to put up with any of her bullshit today.
She looked shocked for a second, but quickly made to flip you off through the mirror.
"Oh, thats mature," you said sarcastically.
She just rolled her eyes and went on primping her hair.
That night was awful. You never realized how little you, Brittany, and Sam got along these days. You had barely spoken to each other during your last tour, so it was amazing the amount of change occurred during such a short amount of time.
Sam had changed the most. She was a lot darker then she used to be. Emotionally wise, that is. She had deep circles around her eyes, and had become an attic recluse. She kept mostly to herself, except when she got mysterious calls in the middle of the night, and would leave until early in the morning. You did wonder where she went, but did not try to ask. You knew she didn't want you butting into her business.
Brittany, on the other hand, could not care less. She was busy being a celebrity, and being completely obsessed with herself, to care about her former best friend. When she wasn't shopping, she was admiring herself in the mirror. It drove you crazy, but that wasn't what was most fazing you at that moment. You were more concerned with the new Sam making way into your apartment. She was different, and in the back of your mind you knew something was wrong. It was just impossible to decipher what it could possibly be.
Then, early one morning, you heard something most peculiar coming from the hall. It sounded like someone choking, so you quickly got up and moved closer to the door to hear as much as you could. The choking got louder, and soon turned into a violent gagging noise. And then a soft thud sounded through the door, and the noise stopped. You opened it, and looked carefully in the direction of the sounds.
That was when you caught sight of her. She was lying on ground, and blood was slowly being unconfined from her nose. You ran as fast as you could to the kitchen, and grabbed whatever towels you could find. When you reached her, you held the cloth to her nose, but really had no idea what you were doing. You frantically held her in your hands, praying she was still alive.
"Sam.. Sam!" You cried hysterically, jolting her shoulders lightly back and forth, somehow thinking that would do something. As you held her in your hands, you felt her arm against yours, and it was so cold a light shock ran through your body. You hesitantly reached up to touch her forehead, and were stung by how cold she was. It was like you were holding an ice sculpture of the person you used to know as Sam in your arms.
Then she started moving, and you had never been as relieved as you were at that very moment. You silently thanked God, and gently shook her.
"Wake up.. Wake up, please, God, wake up." You whispered to yourself as you tried to revive her. You still had the cloth held up to her nose, but noticed the bleeding had ceased slightly. She was so cold she had begun shaking, and you had never been more scared. As she shivered in your arms, you pulled her up so she wasn't lying on the hard wood floor. But as you sat her up, something fell out of her pocket.
It was then that you realized what was really going on. As you picked up the small bag full of cocaine, you looked down at Sam and let just one tear escape. She was never one you'd pin down as someone to do hard drugs. She was never that kind of a person. But it was at that moment you realized just how much Sam really hated being a rock-star. Enough to turn to something that would take her mind of the sham of a life she found herself living. And you couldn't help but agree with her. You hated it too.
And it was as you sat there, with your former best friend in your arms as she OD'd, that you realized for the first time that you never wanted what you always thought you did. Money never mattered to you, neither did material things. None of those were ever the reason you wanted this lifestyle so badly. All you ever really wanted was to make music. And that dream had been jaded by all the excess that had tried to take over in the mean time. You knew you didn't belong here. This wasn't the way you had imagined life as a musician. Probably because in your mind, life as a musician was not life as a rock-star.
Sam was shaking, and her skin was like ice draped over your arm. Her frail bones were so fragile that as you held her, you were extra careful not to drop her, she was so weak you felt like if she fell shed break for sure. Like a porcelain doll on drugs.
Eventually you fell asleep with her in your arms. The right thing to do, would have been to call the cops. But you were never very good at telling right from wrong.