To Love/Hate the Spotlight

My heart catches in my throat upon jerking out of another toss and turn. I'm growing sick of having a super shine sweat covering my body. In my slumber, I had torn off the blanket and it ended up as a cocoon wrapped around Billie Joe's softly snoring figure. Seeing him lying next to me instead of the monsters coming to rip me open was like a shot of morphine. I want to shimmy my way back under the covers, curl around Billie, and steal some of the dreams that last him till morning.

In reality, that's not going to happen... to me, at least.

The digital clock for the microwave stood out in the dark main area. Squinting hard, I waited for the blurred numbers to adopt clarity with at least two hours later being the time. Mike must have felt generous. I blindly slipped on a pair of shorts and pulled on a black hoodie that hung just above my knees: It must be one of my prego buys; I look like I'm wearing it as a dress. This pair of copper flats that are so ugly they're adorable were at the very bottom of my bag. Careful not to wake up Billie Joe, I tiptoed out the door. He hasn't had enough sleep today.

The temperature outside had dropped a few degrees which suited me fine. I'd like to say that it was pleasantly quiet out but no. I heard my great uncle refer to this sound -and don't shoot me for using it- as a "Hullabaloo." (On a side note, I'm so happy I only had to see him once a year.)

Exhaling a long yawn, I stumbled towards the My Chem bus thinking Mike and Tre would be in there. I tried my darnedest to ignore the mob of fans lining the fences and not draw attention to myself. It was impossible on account they surrounded the buses and appeared especially close. I scanned outside their bus: The dark windows, the silence. I even tried jumping in good faith that I could hop higher than a 5'4 chick, and possibly catch them having a floor party.

"Yeah, floor parties. They're the latest craze. Shag carpeting is in again."

"Well - fuck - it was worth a try."

"Hey! Hey you! Girl by the buses!"

Crap.

I grimaced and turned in the direction of my personal page. A small group of girls squished against a section of the fence beckoned me over. Like I have anything else to do. I haven't really spoken to anyone my age in -gosh- I don't know how long.

When I approached -gaining more attention- I was put off that these girls resembled the ones from earlier at the diner but were not the same.

"What?" I stopped a foot short from the barrier and shoved my hands into the hoodie's middle pocket.

The one with violet hair who called me over leaned in, being all secretive. "Aren't you in my gym class?"

Her friend, so into the "Cat-Eyes" look that it's tacky, cut in before I could refuse. "No, she's definitely in my history class. Mrs. Belzone?"

Whoa. It's my turn to speak? "Um, neither. I-"

"Do you have a backstage pass?"

I was afraid to even start on the letter "N" for "No."

"She would have to be wearing it."

"No, she could have it- Oh - My - God!" Violet-Head gasped. My outfit peaked her interest.

"What?!" Her and Cat-Eyes shuffled into a huddle, babbling and stealing glances at me.

This is all happening so fast. Do I have something on my nose? I'll wipe just in case.

The Plain Jane, silent thus far, blurted, "Is it Bob?"

"Bob's taken, and it can't be Mikey."

"Gerard?"

"I heard him and Lyn-Z were having issues."

"Really? Where'd you hear that?"

"Around."

"Do you think she?" Violet-Head thumbed my way.

Cat-Eyes sneered. "No way. She's too short and besides..." She flipped her hairspray helmet in such a way that made me wonder if she was a cheerleader in a past life. "Lyn-Z is totally thin. Gerard would never lower his standards when he has her."

"Then it must be Frank; He's the only one that's single," Plain Jane said like I wasn't just insulted. "Does Frank have a big you know?" She stared at me all excited.

"All three of you wait just a fucking second." I turned my sights on Cat-Eyes. "What are you trying to say?"

"Why- what part didn't you understand?"

Acid infected all the chemicals in my brain. "Oh I understood perfectly. I just wanted to see if you had the guts to say it to my face." I closed the gap, the fence getting in the way.

"Steph, don't." Violet-Head warned, trying to push Steph back.

"I think it would be best if you listened to your friend." The beast from Gilmans was stirring.

"Fuck you!" Cat-Eyes struggled with Violet-Head holding her back. "Trudy, you need to back off."

"I can't let you start a fight with Frank Iero's girlfriend!"

"Well it's not my fault he's fucking a fat whore!" Cat-Eyes screeched, strands of saliva flinging in the air.

The other fans squished out of the way. If there was one thing I knew about MCR fans (other than liking the band), is if it doesn't directly involve them, they let it be. I don't really think of that as a weakness, just more of a survival instinct.

My teeth were clenched, setting up the growl rumbling through. My skin boiled; The tense shake constricting my muscles was adding on to the irritation. Those blackened eyes were going to be replaced by real bruises. "You better turn around and walk away or I'll-"

"Or you'll what? Sit on me?" Cat-Eyes was free of her limitations and vulnerable.

Before I could realize, my mind went on cruise control and I had jumped the fence, tackling Cat-Eyes to the asphalt.

It was like watching a movie: Voices boomed, hands tore at my back and yanked on my sweatshirt. If it were me, I would have felt my point had been made and stop. This vicious adrenaline rush contained none of my will power.

I didn't feel it as my fist constantly rammed her left eye and her scratching at my throat in order to scramble out from under me. For some reason my assaulting fist paused, the blurry dominate thoughts taking pity and allowing Cat-Eyes to sock me once in my own eye. Still, I felt nothing. Something in my gut shrunk with pleasure.

"All this jewelry in the way." My eyes darted to her eyebrow, nose, and snake bite lip piercings. "Do you mind?" Words I didn't think to say came from my lips. My palm opened up to reveal it was filled with blood, my nails being the culprit. I was squeezing too tight. I truly didn't know what was going to happen until my fingers pinched the end of her dumbbell brow ring and ripped it out of the skin without hesitation.

She screamed. I laughed. It bled, apparently not to my liking.

I wanted to stop all this.

My fist smashed against her squint of an eye once more. Blood from her brow stained my knuckles. In no time her nose and one of her lip piercings were mutilated.

Through her sobs she gagged apologies and to please get off of her. All three torn slits of skin seeped crimson drizzling off to the sides of her face. Red and Kohl smears washed over her features like a Halloween mask. Her surgically altered nose crack crack cracked to glorious disfigurement. Her pearly whites were framed in blood. Yet in all this failure, she was still trying to defend herself.

"You've got some fight in you; I like that." My voice was mocking. I felt like Alex in A Clockwork Orange: Bound against my will, forced to watch gruesome images making me sick to my stomach, and having no control whatsoever as to when the torture ends.

Cat-Eyes pursed her lips, fixated on my self-inflicted wound dripping from my fist. The far off sensation of a grin tightened. My chest shook, cackling. "You don't know where I've been! You don't know where I've been!"

The muffled, mouse-like shriek she emitted thrilled and nauseated me.

"That's enough! Come on, break it up!" Huge hands easily grabbed hold of my ribcage and lifted me straight up into the air and then threw me over his shoulder. Right there I wanted to go limp -surrender- but the rage kept pulling the strings. Clawing at the white print that read "Security" across the steroid shoulder blades, I -but not me- still wanted to beat Cat-Eyes to unconsciousness, so that she could wake up with a tumor-worthy headache -her head in bandages- and then she'd tear them off, look in the mirror, and scream at the monster she's become.

I tried desperately to regain control and no longer be a spectator to my own motions.

The Security Guard jolted me. "Knock it off. You're done." And it was true: Another guard carried Cat-Eyes, barely moving, bridal style yards behind.

Then... the ringing in my ears quieted and the adrenaline depleted. I gasped for breath as if I was drowning. Everything tightened, and I was back in my own skin. I had to close my eyes and breathe in order to get my bearings.

Mike's POV:

"Well, that should be enough time," I muttered after checking my watch. I still can't believe I gave up an immediate shower so those two can hump like rabbits. Don't they ever get tired?

My attention turned into the bee hive of girls swarming around the guys catching their breath and guzzling water like no tomorrow. I myself felt a tad embarrassed with the beer bottle in my hand. But hey I work out, and it could be worse: I could be Tre right now. Ahhh... Tre... Did I fail to mention he was amongst the buzz, tagging girls for interest and actually getting some takers. I hope he's paying attention who he's hitting on. Don't unwittingly do a Billie Joe. Oh sweet Statutory.

"Uh, Mr. Dirnt?" I looked up from my leisure to someone I guess works for us. They had that black shirt thing going on. "A girl down in the medics area asked specifically for you and to come right away."

I sat forward in my seat. Confused. "What? Are you sure it's not Mikey Way you're looking for?"

"I'm sure. She said, 'Mike Dirnt.' And if you had any doubts she said something about you being convinced dogs will someday rule the world?"

"... shit." I stood up, grabbed a fresh bottle, and sighed. "Take me to her."

Passing those with heat exhaustion, I saw exactly who I expected. I frowned yet still shocked she was here of all places and surrounded by two, huge security guards. When she caught sight of me, she dropped the ice pack held over her eye onto her lap.

A smile ruined the serious tone that gripped the situation. I couldn't help it. Two giants posted around Becky? She's 5'4! I gasped, "What - did you-- do?"

"I - uh - well..." She winced, her swollen eye starting to bruise. Scratch marks trailed down her cheek and throat. There was some blood. This is more serious than I thought. I crouched down before her and acted like a concerned brother should.

"Bec, did someone attack you?" I asked, watching for tears and for her to cry the entire story.

Instead her nose wrinkled and her head veered to the right. "Not exactly..."

I then noticed the bloody pulp planted in the next chair. I jumped in awe and horror. "Wow--- is that human?"

The creature gargled something much like "Fuck off," but it was difficult to tell with the soaked tissues held against her mouth.

"Don't you talk to him like that," Becky snapped with a real bite in her voice.

The creature, I'm now slightly recognizing as a girl, rolled her eyes -well, at least one eye- and recrossed her legs. "Oh so you're fucking him too?" The tear in her lip bled profusely.

"Will you please just shut up? I'm married." Becky waved her middle and ring fingers at the girl, leaning closer in the process.

The long lost son of Andre the Giant between the two pressed Becky's shoulder to keep her back.

Besides the natural, this girl had more holes in her face. "Since when did Frank get remarried?"

"He didn't! I'm not married to him or him." She pointed at me.

"... Gerard, then?"

"No!" Becky threw her arms up in the air, clearly fed up. "I'm not some whore you'd like me to be. Do I have to break open your thick skull for you to understand that?"

"Hey, knock it off! Do you want to get sedated?" The Guard threatened, infuriated with Becky. The snide blood clot was passed off as innocent as could be. Even though I'm very in the dark about this but from what I could gather, Becky had just cause to wail on that girl. Who is he to accuse her like that?

Come to think of it, where was Billie Joe during all this?

Her bruising, bloodied knuckles tightened into a fist just by looking at the smug grin amongst the girl's facial casualties. My face twisted in my confusion. I feel like I'm watching the insane confidence only weirdos on the Jerry Springer Show could pull off.

"What are you smiling about?" The question had to be asked. "Do you realize you lost some teeth? You just got the shit kicked out of you. Becky, did you give this thing brain damage?"

Bec giggled, tossing her ice pack to the side. "One can only hope."

"I'm sitting right here."

"The Elephant Girl retaliated as if we gave a damn..." she narrated, greatly enjoying the fact she knew how to press this girl's buttons. It was having the opposite effect on me: I laughed. The chick did look like the daughter of the Elephant Man.

Huffing, the bitch was on the edge of her seat. I noticed the one guard did nothing, but with Becky he wanted to whip out the tranquilizers. "Well- at least I'm not- I'm not some fat slut!"

My smile fell. That was just... stupid. Only now after all these years, I'm getting a taste of Becky angry and I know with just one sip I don't want to take it any farther than that. This girl, this idiot, was a victim to what I hope is the full extent of that rage, and she's fucking trying to achieve it all over again. Did she eat paint chips as a child?

Becky, always with that fatal smirk, brushed off her gravel-skinned knees and stood. Of course the steroid referee gripped her shoulder which wasn't really necessary, but he could easily use me to pick his teeth so therefore I'm keeping quiet. She brushed off his hand, showing small hints of extra effort it took to release her. "There's no need for that. I'm only going to say my goodbyes. If I wanted to, I would have already ripped out her other lip ring."

So that's why her face ran red. I gaped it Becky in utter disbelief. She actually ripped out that girl's facial piercings? That's- that's sick. I really didn't think Becky had it in her. What did that bitch do to drive Bec to do that.

As the giant's arm acted as a barrier between bother fighters -well, technically one of them is- Becky leaned over the closest she could with hands clasped behind her back. That was the only view I got, but I'm not complaining. The sickly sweet tone she used was enough for me to feel the chill.

"Darlin, I may be fat" -That isn't true- "but I can lose the weight. If you say I'm a slut, my husband will be happy to hear that, because it would all be in his benefit. But you, Deary, will always be ugly. Go ahead and wash off the blood and makeup; Go to the dentist and get some porcelain veneers, but unless you have health insurance that covers plastic surgery, you will forever be an eyesore, even to the blind. I hope you had fun; I know I did." She craned her neck up at the guard. "May I go now?"

For a girl with a black eye and clawed throat, she had the perkiness of a cheerleader chewing coffee grounds. Amazing. Simply amazing.

The Guard wasn't buying it. His caveman face wrenched in disgust. "No," he sputtered, shocked that she would ask such a question. This is probably why she sent for me.

"Uh, actually," I started and rose off the floor with my bottles. "She's with me- well, the tour."

"How?" The giant's baritone gruff challenged.

"She's the wife on the tour. Someone should have told you this. Your boss or whoever guaranteed all his staff were informed. It's obvious now that was a load of bull. What's your name so I can speak to your superior?" I had to act like I knew exactly what was what, and he was being too ignorant for his job. "Where is your supervisor or whoever?" The end of that was shaky by pretending his job rests in my hands.

He glared at Becky like she was an axe murderer ruled innocent. Just because she walked away with the least injuries doesn't automatically make her the bad guy. "Go," he grunted.

I wasn't sure if he said that or my mind praying for us to be done with this.

"Get out of my sight--now!" he barked at us like this was all a great injustice. Either way, Becky and I hightailed it out of there and didn't slow down till we turned out of his sight like he asked.

Catching my breath, I couldn't help but laugh at the surreality of what just happened. I checked over my shoulder just in case. "Holy shit, I bet that guy bites the heads off kittens. What happened that- hey, what's wrong?"

The stretch of the Joker's smile had fallen. Moments ago an elated arrogance junkie, now ashamed and low key. Her eyes steadied inches before her careless steps. I was baffled. Did I run off with the same girl?

"Bec?"

"Please say that's for me," her soft-spoken murmur meant nothing but the unopened bottle in my hand. Without a word, I gave it to her. Maybe this a chick thing? Like Her time of the month sorta deal? I am definitely not going to mess with that.

"What happened between you and that girl?" I was desperate to know the motive.

She didn't give a thought to me as she twisted off the cap and cringed at the sharp edges tearing at her palm. I was in awe of the way she threw her head back -eyes squeezed shut- and chugged the fermented grains while walking at the same time. Quite a feat for a girl who despises beer. When she finally came up for air, the bottle was already half empty. Her lips wrinkled and for a moment I was convinced she was going to puke it all up.

"Are you going to be sick?" My hands hovered around her to snatch and gather her hair. I'm still pretty sure vomit in the hair is unwanted. Taking a swig, she waved away my help and kept close to the wall. I then helped in a different way and acted as a shield, because after all this is a dangerous place. Members of the band could be running around here and we don't want that. It became clear she wasn't going to be sick. The slow circles she rubbed against her forehead defined a migraine.

"Mike, don't tell Billie about this." Her head hung low like the neck had been broken. It was safe to say the passing faces she hid from were too occupied in their own affairs.

"How can I tell Bill anything if I don't know what there is to tell?" Maybe I missed something?

"I guess..." The lights were stinging when she struggled for the words. "That's exactly it."

"But that doesn't make any sense. Why were you in a fight?"

"Just----don't worry about it. It's done and over with."

"Done?!" I punctured the set volume of our conversation. My cheeks heated pink even when there was a break in people. I hushed myself and whispered, "I don't know when it started. Look, you sent for me. I don't mind helping you out, but you at least owe me some kind of an explanation." Before I even finished her head was lolling side to side. "Why not?"

"Mike, thank you for helping me. I really appreciate it."

"... and?"

"I'm sorry, but that's all I have to say." She turned away towards the wall. Good thing I'm a very patient person.

"But what happened to the girl that was ecstatic back there? Where'd she go, huh?"

"Don't put it like that," she countered quietly. "... I-maybe-I... I should sleep."