The Short Life and Tragic Death of Stevie Daniels

I didn’t see John for the rest of the day. He left the hospital and went god knows where. So I hung around the hospital that night, the nurse putting more steroids into my veins to maybe make my lungs stronger.

"Ooo Darlin’, that boy loves you." She told me after she shot the drug into my IV bag. "You two remind me of my husband and I. He passed a few years back, he is a few years older than I am, so you can guess hes a REALLY old bastard, anyway he speaks to me like that boy speaks to you, but you’re a little more responsive than I am."
She laughs and I giggle into the air. “You got good people around you, and though I did go to medical school, I think that might be just as important as all this medication. At least you got that going for you…”

After that she left to take care of other patients, and I spend the night thinking about that. When you’re a ghost you don’t sleep. You can’t sleep. I’ve tried. Even the after life is tedious.

But I did have good people around me, my band and my boyfriend. Who could ask for anything more?

I was excited to see them when they showed up the next morning, with John. I couldn’t talk to them, but they weren’t doing much talking either, just sitting though out the room, watching me, drinking coffee.

Austin was the first to speak up. “We were getting so close. We got out of the van, we were gonna headline we were gonna have singles and more fans and travel more.” he sighed.

I agreed, I really fucked things up for us, but they could aways find a new singer.

"Is that all you fucking care about?" Damon yelled "What happens to the fucking band? Our best friend is DYING and thats all you care about?"

"Guys…" John whispered in disapproval but made no move to stop them from getting closer.

Austin walked up and pushed Damon out of his chair. “No! But its kinda been on my mind, tell me you’re not pissed.”

"I’m not pissed! I don’t have time to be mad I’m too busy killing myself over letting this happen to her. I’m not some PRICK like you!" He yelled and got up off the floor.

"Guys!" John said a little louder, but they ignored him and he made no move. Taylor just watched as Austin pulled his hand back and let it snap into Damon’s nose.

"Get out!" John yelled, standing up. "Just get out!"

I have never seen him this scary, we’ve fought, but he was terrifying, his posture was rigged and his eyes darkened, seeming almost black. “She doesn’t need this. Out.” he said.

My whole band, not in their manliest moment, scurried out and John sat back down. “I’m sorry baby.” He was quiet again, just playing with the engagement ring on my finger while I remembered our first fight.

It was something stupid, it was about my parents, and me not being particularly excited that they meet.

"You’ve met my folks!" John yelled throwing his hands up in frustration, awkwardly sitting in the passenger seat of my car.

"Yeah, you’re parents are bat shit crazy!" I exclaimed turning the turn signal on and making a left turn, maybe a little faster than I should have, but it was all in anger.

"We’ve moved in together! We’re fucking living together and you can’t let me meet them, its like they don’t even know I exist!" I exclaimed, getting louder. My silence was he clue. "They don’t know about me, do they?"

I sighed, hoping he wouldn’t find our, but in all reality how long was I going to able to keep him from them. “No.” I pulled into our driveway.

"How ashamed of me are you?" He yelled slamming his hand on my dash. "I mean, fuck Stevie! You make me wanna…"

He turned and in the first act of aggression ever, he flicked my temple. My eyes widened. I know it wasn’t much, but he just kinda laid a hand on me. I turned angrily to face him and his eyes were wide.

"Oh my god baby, I didn’t mean it. I’ve never even done anything like that before!"

"Oh so it’s just for me then?" I asked sarcastically.

"No! Oh god baby!" he said and put his head right in front of me. "Here. Flick me back."

I got out of the car and ran into the house locking it behind me. He followed quickly and I heard his key in the lock. Shit, he had one of those.

I ran upstairs and into our bedroom, locking that door and sitting on the bed. Maybe I was over reacting, but I was being proactive, showing him that if he ever laid another finger on me there would be serious repercussions.

He was knocking at the door in a minute. “Baby please, I’m so sorry. It will never happen again.”

"Damn right it won’t!" I said adjusting myself in the bed and grabbing the TV remote. Nick at Night was on.

"Please come out."

"Nope." I said popping the P. "Theres a box of pop tarts and a water bottle in here. I can last for days."

"Baby…" he whined. "What can I say? I said I was sorry and that I would never do it again." he knocked on the door. "I wish I could take it back, its one of the worst things that I have ever done."

I quietly made my way over to the door. I quickly unlocked it and for a second he looked happy, like I forgave him, that was until I literally smacked the expression off his face.

He put his hand on his cheek and looked shocked at me. I sighed and smiled. “Much better.”

I later told him why I never spoke about him to my parents, that they always ended up ruining these kind of things. He let it go and I told them about him a week later, they weren’t pleased.

Regardless, John never did anything like that again (if it wasn’t in the metaphorical bedroom) and I only slapped him in anger one other time.

"They care about you." He sighed, referring to my band memebers. "They really do."

I know. I “said” They’re just morons.

"I care about you too, you know." He laughed. "I miss you." he sighed moving closer to me.

He kissed me dead on the lips and the heart monitor beat a bit faster. “Stevie?” he asked at my body showing sighs of reaction. He kissed me again and the monitor sped up. He chuckled. “I know you miss me too.”