A place where you belong.

28th December 2012, Huntington (CA), USA.

It was one of those cold and dull mornings, the sky was obscured by gray puffy clouds. It was a really bad day in the sunny state of California. I didn't feel the cold as the rest of the people walking on the Huntington streets seemed to. Their mouths and noses exhaling a little vapor. That was life.

The building I looked for hadn't changed at all. The same wall color, the same door... Some things seemed so different and others just seemed frozen in time. I didn't have to push the old door open to step inside.

The room I walked into hadn't suffered any change either, maybe a picture or a plant, but I didn't focus in the decoration before. My feet guided me through the building, loud voices reaching my ears as I got near the studio. Five people chatted among themselves, discussing the new album, ignorant to my presence. I let my eyes wander around the room, taking every detail of that room that once was my second home.

Matt's loud voice interrupted my thoughts. “I think we should start with the work”. His deep and velvety voice full of confidence —feeling that didn't reach his eyes—. Four nods were sent his way. “Can we start with one the solos, Gates?” Now, it was Johnny the one who talked. “Okay”, the lack of the teasing name shortshit in Brian's answer unsettled me.

He took his back stripped guitar and the 'Rev' word scribbled on the neck caught my attention. He flexed his fingers twice before starting a warm-up routine I knew too well. “I'm ready” Brian said, connecting his guitar to the recording-table. I watched like thousand times before how his fingers moved swiftly, music erupting from the speakers.

Zacky and Johnny recorded their parts with ease —like always—. I knew what came now, the drums. Matt was always the last to record. It wasn't a good day to record the drum track, I knew it and they did too. However, they also knew that someday they'd have to face the truth.

Arin got up from the old red couch on the corner. He attempted to clean his hands off sweat on his pants and took a deep breath. He looked at the big drum set and closed his eyes nervous. The rest of Avenged Sevenfold looked at the drum set, sadness in their eyes —so much I just wanted to turn around and leave—.

But then the young drummer moved, his hand gripping professionally his drumsticks. He rolled them between his fingers easily and turned to his band mates. “Guys, I'm ready” his voice was quiet compared to Matt's or mine. “But if you want, we can left this for other day”.

“No” they all answered, looking at Arin.

He walked to the small seat behind the drums and looked to the others through the crystal. My figure was ignored but I smiled reassuringly nevertheless. I saw Zacky look up, muttering something. Brian looked to the floor instead, his eyes closed. Matt nodded at Arin while Johnny seemed transfixed with the drum set.

The percussion sound filled my ears. And for a moment I thought I could feel something beating inside of me. Just an illusion, a tricky one. Arin's playing was good, not the best, but a lot better than what was expected. The guys showed it bobbing their heads to the rhythm.

I walked inside of the recording room, sitting in front of the drums. My fingers touched the deathbat painted on them, not feeling it reverberate on my hand. I looked back catching the looks of pride on my friends, it surely mimicked my own.

I looked again at Arin and —also I knew I wouldn't be heard— I whispered: “Well done, boy. You're welcome to the family”. I was proud not only of the skill that the young drummer was showing but of the happy glint his eyes had.

A glint that only true musicians had.

I got up, my job for that day done. I said goodbye to my four brothers and to my young new little bro, Arin.

I was sitting behind that drum set three years ago. I was happy, I had everything my brothers, my girlfriend and my music. I missed my life but I was happy to now that I wouldn't be forgotten.

And that means that I won't die, I will live forever.

In your hearts.