Status: Chapters coming...
The Short Life and Tragic Death of Stevie Daniels
Stay Alive
"Most of the songs I’ve been writing for this new record are about you." John smiled. Holding the hand with the ring on it. "About us. It’s nice. They were all happy."
I couldn’t help but notice his use of past tense they were all happy. Just because I was dying didn’t mean I wanted our memories to be sad.
Pur story was a happy one; filled with laughter, kisses, dancing, music. It was a story that shouldn’t be tainted with a cloud of sadness. Just because I was dying didn’t mean our story wasn’t a happy one. Thats really what I hope I get out of this life. That though my death maybe surprising, that I may be young and hopeful, I lived a good life, I was blessed in so many ways it was hard to comprehend and I lived through it all.
I still wanted to live my life of course, the band was picking up, John asked me to marry him, but I wouldn’t understand if I was taken away from his world, maybe I filled up my quota of happiness too fast.
John played with my fingers. “There is this one song, that quite possibly is my favorite.”
"I recorded a demo for you and tried to send it to you over and over again, never really having the balls to." he laughed "I know it sounds stupid that even though we’ve been dating for a while and we live together that I’d still get nervous around you, but I do, but I think that what keeps me alive. You being so unpredictable and excited and lovable."
It was things like that statement that made me worry for him after I left. When he said things like that it made me think of the worst thing he could do in retaliation to my death. There was no one t blame, but myself, nothing to agenge nothing to do ut hurt himself.
He’s been known to drink himself into the ground or make rash decisions when sad. I didn’t want to be the cause of that. I just wanted him to move on without me.
"I have so many regrets." he said into his hands. "And one of them is never playing you that song. Or writing that song- because if you leave I could never play it again. Or listen to it, or this record."
"You can’t leave me." he whispered. Getting up from the chair. He put his hands on my sleeping shoulders and shook. "You can’t leave me!" he yelled "Wake up! WAKE UP!" He continued to shake my non-responcive shoulders. I urged them to move but they didn’t.
At the noise my band and a nurse came running into the room. Austin and Taylor grabed him from behind and pulled him off of me. Damon came around and put his hands on his chest and together they dragged him across the room, where he broke down crying, my band members being the only things holding him up.
When he didn’t calm down, still flexing and moving around in their tight grip Austin, Taylor and the nurse brought him out of the room to calm him down.
I didn’t follow, though I could have. I was shocked at John’s behavior, I’ve never seen him so outwardly angry before, we’ve had our bickering but he was really mad.
"You can’t die." Damon told me out of breath and I focused in on his words. "I know you’ve been told this a million times, but you can’t. Not just for me, or your friends and family or for this band or for the fans, you can’t die because of that man out their, loosing his mind. For some reason he loves the crazy girl I’ve come to know and enjoy and you can’t take that away from him."
"He is holding his shit together pretty well," he continued, "For someone dying even slower than you are."
That was it. I had tried to wake up, tried my very best, but I didn’t know how, I didn’t know if I could.
So I marched out for the room, a bit too dramatic for someone who couldn’t be seen, and I found John alone, sitting against the wall of the men’s single bathroom a few rooms down, knees to his chest, sobbing.
I had also never seen John cry like his. He went from being angry and desperate to destroyed. Damon was right.
JOHN! I yelled, trying to get through to him. He didn’t notice.
JOHN! JOHN JOHN! I yelled again.
SHIT. I cursed. FUCKING LOOK AT ME. I’M RIGHT HERE. RIGHT HERE.
He looked up like he heard something and I calmed down moving next to him. I bent down and touched his cheek, my hand went right though it, and I wanted to cry.
"Stevie?" he asked and groaned, wiping his eyes. "Now I’m losing it."
No, Johnny. I whispered and tried to touch his cheek again, this time my hand didn’t go through and stayed on the surface of his skin.
He didn’t freak out, he just closed his eyes and leaned his face into it. “What do you want me to do, darlin’?” he asked.
Stay alive. I whispered and I honest to god, thought he heard it.
I couldn’t help but notice his use of past tense they were all happy. Just because I was dying didn’t mean I wanted our memories to be sad.
Pur story was a happy one; filled with laughter, kisses, dancing, music. It was a story that shouldn’t be tainted with a cloud of sadness. Just because I was dying didn’t mean our story wasn’t a happy one. Thats really what I hope I get out of this life. That though my death maybe surprising, that I may be young and hopeful, I lived a good life, I was blessed in so many ways it was hard to comprehend and I lived through it all.
I still wanted to live my life of course, the band was picking up, John asked me to marry him, but I wouldn’t understand if I was taken away from his world, maybe I filled up my quota of happiness too fast.
John played with my fingers. “There is this one song, that quite possibly is my favorite.”
"I recorded a demo for you and tried to send it to you over and over again, never really having the balls to." he laughed "I know it sounds stupid that even though we’ve been dating for a while and we live together that I’d still get nervous around you, but I do, but I think that what keeps me alive. You being so unpredictable and excited and lovable."
It was things like that statement that made me worry for him after I left. When he said things like that it made me think of the worst thing he could do in retaliation to my death. There was no one t blame, but myself, nothing to agenge nothing to do ut hurt himself.
He’s been known to drink himself into the ground or make rash decisions when sad. I didn’t want to be the cause of that. I just wanted him to move on without me.
"I have so many regrets." he said into his hands. "And one of them is never playing you that song. Or writing that song- because if you leave I could never play it again. Or listen to it, or this record."
"You can’t leave me." he whispered. Getting up from the chair. He put his hands on my sleeping shoulders and shook. "You can’t leave me!" he yelled "Wake up! WAKE UP!" He continued to shake my non-responcive shoulders. I urged them to move but they didn’t.
At the noise my band and a nurse came running into the room. Austin and Taylor grabed him from behind and pulled him off of me. Damon came around and put his hands on his chest and together they dragged him across the room, where he broke down crying, my band members being the only things holding him up.
When he didn’t calm down, still flexing and moving around in their tight grip Austin, Taylor and the nurse brought him out of the room to calm him down.
I didn’t follow, though I could have. I was shocked at John’s behavior, I’ve never seen him so outwardly angry before, we’ve had our bickering but he was really mad.
"You can’t die." Damon told me out of breath and I focused in on his words. "I know you’ve been told this a million times, but you can’t. Not just for me, or your friends and family or for this band or for the fans, you can’t die because of that man out their, loosing his mind. For some reason he loves the crazy girl I’ve come to know and enjoy and you can’t take that away from him."
"He is holding his shit together pretty well," he continued, "For someone dying even slower than you are."
That was it. I had tried to wake up, tried my very best, but I didn’t know how, I didn’t know if I could.
So I marched out for the room, a bit too dramatic for someone who couldn’t be seen, and I found John alone, sitting against the wall of the men’s single bathroom a few rooms down, knees to his chest, sobbing.
I had also never seen John cry like his. He went from being angry and desperate to destroyed. Damon was right.
JOHN! I yelled, trying to get through to him. He didn’t notice.
JOHN! JOHN JOHN! I yelled again.
SHIT. I cursed. FUCKING LOOK AT ME. I’M RIGHT HERE. RIGHT HERE.
He looked up like he heard something and I calmed down moving next to him. I bent down and touched his cheek, my hand went right though it, and I wanted to cry.
"Stevie?" he asked and groaned, wiping his eyes. "Now I’m losing it."
No, Johnny. I whispered and tried to touch his cheek again, this time my hand didn’t go through and stayed on the surface of his skin.
He didn’t freak out, he just closed his eyes and leaned his face into it. “What do you want me to do, darlin’?” he asked.
Stay alive. I whispered and I honest to god, thought he heard it.