You Lost Me

Jordan's POV

I was strumming on the acoustic guitar some melody and tried to come up with chorus. But unluckily, I was still aggravated by Matt and his attitude towards my son. He could bitch on me whenever he wanted to, but not on Emile. He didn't do anything to him.

And the more I thought about Matt, the more angry I became. He didn't changed at all - the same bastard he always was. But now, it got even worse, when the guys became really big. The fame made him even bigger of an asshole.

And even after three fucking years, I was still blaming myself for giving into him. If I hadn't been so naive, I wouldn't have been in such a horrible position. It's not that I regret having a baby - it's an amazing experience. But I was only twenty back then, it was too soon. And right now, when I look back, I would have done some things differently.



A loud cry echoed through the house and I got out of my comfy bed with sleepy eyes. I put on a robe and stumbled to a room attached to mine. There was a little baby loudly crying in a crib, waving his little hands in every direction.

I rubbed my sleepy eyes, walking up to the crib and taking the baby in my hands. I was feeling sick, tired and weak since the day little boy came home with me. I wasn't ready for this yet. I was too young for this.

I rocked the screaming newborn in my hands, hushing him. But it was no use. He kicked and moved around, tears streaming down his face. I slipped one side of my tank top, revealing my breast to feed the baby. But that didn't help either. He didn't think of calming down.

I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to handle this kind of situation.

"Shh, please, calm down!" I whispered loudly, frantically rocked the baby, fear overtaking me. The baby still cried, sobbing even louder.

"Calm down, calm down, calm down!" I started to raise my voice, trying to calm more of myself than a baby.

Tears started to roll down my face as my hands started to shake uncontrollably and my chest started to hurt. My heart was beating faster and faster by each second and I my hands started to feel numb.

No wanting to hurt the baby, as carefully as I could, I put him into the crib, and ran into the bathroom. I knew, if I won't take the medications, it'll get even worse. I opened the cabinet and started looking for Xanax. My hands were shaking terribly and I could get a hold of the pills. The baby was screaming almost like animal caught in a traps. I managed to pop three pills into my mouth and I swallowed them instantly. The took my phone and speed dialed Dylan's number.

"Hello?" he answered after couple of moments, sleepily.

"D-Dylan," I managed to breath out. The chest pains were getting even stronger and I started to get dizzy. "the baby... It won't stop..." I said, shaking.

"I'm coming." he said, already woke up hanged up.

After almost twenty minutes, Dylan burst through my door and hurried up to baby, taking him into his arms and calling the ambulance.

I heard him coming into the bathroom with him. He kneeled in front of me, calming me down, comforting me.

"P-please, take him away." I whispered as the tears ran down my face. He gave me a confused look. He looked at crying newborn and understood what I meant. The ear-piercing sirens mixed in with the scream of a baby.

They took the boy and carried him into the car. Dylan helped my to stand up as Xanax finally kicked in, letting me to go back to normal.

"Let's go to the hospital." he took my hand, but I didn't move. He looked at me confused.

"I-I won't go. I can't." I shook my head.

"Jo, c'mon." he tried once more, but I stood still like a rock. He sighed deeply and left me alone in the baby's room.

I couldn't do this. I couldn't do this anymore. It was too hard for me. I couldn't take care of a baby. I didn't know how to. And this thing that happened two minutes ago only proves it.



I put down the guitar, and took out the cancer stick, putting it into my mouth and lighting it up. I puffed smokes into the sound proof room, that we had at the back of the bus, and closed my eyes.

"Mom!" Emile whined, when he stepped into the room. "You promised, you'll quit doing that!" he furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms on his chest. I gave him a small smile and puffing one last smoke, I put out the cigarette.

"I know, baby, I'm sorry. I'm just... sad." I patted a spot next to me. He quickly sat onto the couch, and leaned against me.

"Is it because of the daddy?" he asked quietly. I smiled sadly into the distance, exhaling deeply.

Emile was one of the kind. As for a three-year-old boy, he was very intelligent and was catching on everything fast. He was more mature that other kids his age.

"I'll take that as a yes." he said after I exhaled one more time.

I never hid anything from my son. I was telling him about Matt, I showed the pictures of him and let him watch or listen to the interviews of the band. I never turned my son against Matt. No matter how much I hated the man. I won't deny, that when I saw what was coming on the 'Taste Of Chaos' with us, I tried to convince my son, that Matt was not the same man, like he was on the TV. But Emile thought differently. He thought, that once Matt will know about him, he'll come back to us and will be a family. It was the thoughts of an innocent child.

"And, mommy," he looked up to me with those hazel eyes of his. "you were right about... Matt." he used his name.

"He is different. Not like from the television." his eyes became sad.

"He is mad with me, isn't he?" he looked down as he played with his hands.

"No, honey, of course not! Why would he be?" he stroked my baby boy's hair.

"Because he don't want me. I ruined his life." he said seriously. "I've heard what he shouted back then."

"Emile, listen to me." I sat my son on my lap. "You didn't ruin his life. He's still famous and all, right?" I asked, and he nodded, still looking down.

"And you're the joy of my life." I smiled at him, tickling his sides. "Never ever forget that." I laughed out as he started to kick and move, laughing loudly, his dimples appearing. He was a splitting image of his father.

"Okay!" he giggled out.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that." I said, continuing to tickle him.

"Okay!" he yelled out, almost falling off of my lap. I stopped my actions and kissed his forehead lovingly. He smiled in response, climbing down and bouncing to the front of the bus, pass Dylan.

"He's a smart boy." he stated, his arms crossed on his chest. I stood up, walking up to him and looking at Emile chasing Eric around.

"He is. Definitely like me." I chuckled, glancing at Dylan.

"No doubt." he put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer. "By the way, we'll be in the Wisconsin soon."

I exhaled deeply. Soon, I'll be facing the Drama Queen himself with another five hours filled with awkwardness, anger and... well, drama before the show.

"Just ignore him, Jo. He's a fucking dickhead for playing you like that and everyone knows it. Even he knows it." he rubbed my shoulder, trying to comfort me.

"I know, Dylan. But, believe me, it's way harder than it looks like." I laid my head on his shoulder. Everytime I try to ignore him, he provokes me to say something back and give him the attention. And I can't help it.

"At least try." he shrugged his shoulders, letting go of me and going to the 'living room' area.

Oh, boy, this was not going to end up good.