Beyond Redemption

The days and nights ran together as if life was becoming one endless continuation of one bad event. I felt like I never slept, even though I slept pretty often from being too intoxicated. I felt guilty about it, sure, but not guilty enough to change. I considered myself functional, and that was all that mattered. As long as I could sing and remember my own lyrics and show up to meetings when I had to, I could feel like I was still doing okay.

Often, after shows I'd played at least half drunk, I would sit back stage and drink until Mige and Linde had to carry me out to the bus. It was pretty pathetic, but every time I found myself even the smallest bit sober, I was reminded of the shitty situation I was in and panicked. I didn't know how to deal with this, so I chose not to.

I didn't know how long I could keep this up for. It had been 6 months and I barely remembered most of the year. I wasn't even very aware of recent news or anything going on. I knew Jonna had her baby, but I had no idea who the father was, I didn't even know the baby's name or gender. I didn't care much, although when someone who you vowed to stay with the rest of your life has a baby, you'd think it would spark some interest, but it didn't. Jonna was my past, like Jamie was, the difference was that I couldn't let go of Jamie.

I desperately wanted to hate her. I wanted to yell at her, to tell her what she'd done to me. I wanted her to feel guilty and I wanted to see it on her face. But the problem with that was the fact that I knew if I saw her, I wouldn't yell, I wouldn't try to make her feel bad, and I would never hate her. I would have forgiven her in my own weakness, and maybe regret it later when thoughts of her sleeping with another man crept into my mind. I was so confused and angry over the whole thing and I was tired of hurting, tired of missing her, tired of being in love with someone who caused this kind of pain.

I had to wonder still if I was being irrational. I had to constantly convince myself that I made the right choice to not be with her, it was right for me to end it, it wasn't okay to act that way. But my heart screamed at me for this decision, and I had no idea where to go or what to do. This was the reason I was never sober. Its all I ever thought about.

Mige checked in on me a lot, I wasn't stupid. I knew what he was doing. He often brought me food or just said he felt like hanging out with me, but this was every night and kind of out of the ordinary, especially after spending god knows how long on a tour bus together. He was making sure I didn't accidentally kill or seriously hurt myself in a drunken stupor. He was making sure my asthma was under control, but it wasn't. I was barely taking my medication for it and I was rarely able to breathe very well without wheezing or coughing. The cigarettes didn't help.

Normally people never mentioned my drinking, especially Mige, so I was surprised to hear him bring it up while sitting at my kitchen table one morning. I was fairly buzzed but not nearly enough to want to talk about this. "So Ville, I haven't seen you sober in a while. You doing okay?"

"I'm just having fun." I lied. It wasn't fun at all, nothing about being drunk all day every day, waking up hungover, and then drinking to get rid of the hang over, was fun. I was miserable in the mess I created.

"Okay." He accepted, likely knowing I was lying. "Talking to any women lately? You've been single for a while."

I tensed at the question, taking another sip of whatever the fuck I'd poured for myself. "No. I don't have time for women."

"You had time for Jamie." He didn't look at me, knowing this was sensitive. I hadn't heard her name in so long.

"She isn't around anymore." I tried dismissing it, but I should have known he wouldn't let it slide.

"Do you still want her to be?" He was careful with his words, knowing he was on thin ice with this.

"I want to not talk about her." I glared, knowing this was why I was never sober.

"I think you need to. I just want you to answer a few questions for me." He plead, trying to get me to get this off my chest. He was crazy if he thought talking about it would make me want to be sober again.

"I won't talk about her Mige. I'm over it." he looked at me, making eye contact finally.

"Okay. Fine. Then do one thing." I raised my eye brow in question. "Say her name."

"What?" I stopped, dead cold. I hadn't expected that.

"Say her name and I'll back off. If you can do that then obviously you're getting over it, right? So just say it." He challenged me in a way I hated.

I wanted to say it, I wanted to yell it at him for making me feel this way, for making me think of her, but I just couldn't do it. I couldn't handle the way something as simple as her name brought me to my knees. I was weak, and being reminded of it. "Go to hell." I sighed, accepting defeat.

"That's what I thought. You aren't getting over this at all, you're still wallowing." He crossed his arms in a somewhat sad victory.

"I'm not wallowing. I'm dealing with best I can, okay? I'm just caught up in this mess I'm in." I shrugged, feeling the pain of everything well up in my chest, or maybe it was just the asthma again. I didn't know.

"You won't get out of it until you stop drinking and face this. Look, I care about you and I don't want to see you like this." That's when it dawned on me. There was a reason he was doing this.

"Did you talk to her?" I already felt betrayed but I wasn't sure why

"Yeah. She called a few times." He said, looking a little guilty.

"Why didn't you tell me? What did she say?" My heart raced and I felt anxious.

"Well we talked for a while about things. She said she would have called sooner but the last conversation she had with you was a little more pleasant than the break up. She said she called you a few days after you left her but you were too drunk to know who she was. You asked her if she had Thai Asia's number." My face turned white and I felt like I might puke. I couldn't believe I'd talked to her and not known. I worried if I'd said anything stupid.

"Fuck. Well when did you speak last? Why? You aren't telling her about me are you?" I was worried and freaked out.

"She already knew some things from Bam but he lied to her. He said you were pretty much over it. Which is funny, because didn't he tell you the same thing about her?" I could tell by his tone that he was onto something. He knew something, or someone who did, about all this and I was afraid to know what it was.

"Wait, she's not over it?" I was shocked to hear it. This whole time I thought she'd been fine without me.

"If she were over it, would she have called me? Would she have told me that she still loves you?" It felt like I'd just been stabbed in the heart. It was a relief to know we still had a love for each other, but it was bitter sweet. I just didn't know if I could ever trust her again or forgive her.

"Mige please don't dangle this in front of me." I begged, feeling like I might break down. "It doesn't matter what happened, I can't trust her."

"Ville, I know you're going to hate this idea, but maybe you should call her. You didn't hear her voice like I did. I trust her, for some reason. I don't know. I think whatever Bam is hiding will shed a lot of light on this whole thing." I felt overwhelmed and I thought I might have a panic attack at the thought of calling her.

"No. I can't. Mige I can't even say her name right now, I can barely discuss this. How the hell am I supposed to hear her voice? You can't expect me to do that." I took another drink, ready to not feel.

"It was just a thought. It might do you some good to sober up and have a conversation with her." For some reason, that almost infuriated me. He'd pushed me a little too far.

"Stop! I'm done with this. Its been 6 months. I'm fine, I don't need her to survive!" Maybe it was half a lie. I did need her to be happy and live well, but I didn't need anyone to keep my heart beating for me. I could take care of myself, or that's what I thought anyway.

I got up and locked myself in my studio with the alcohol. I just wanted this all to go away. I wanted to not have to think about it, so I went right back to my daily routine. Drink. Write. Sing. Drink. Forget to eat. Drink. It was a cycle that never ended and for the moment, I was okay with that.

I had been dwelling on that conversation all day, and it I felt like fate was giving me either a curse or a gift when Bam called. I was reluctant to answer, but did it anyway. "What?" I hadn't meant to answer so rude, but I was pretty drunk and frustrated with him for lying to me.

"Woah. Just seeing how you were doing." He said defensively.

"Oh yeah? So you can go back to her and tell her how great I'm doing without her?" I spat venom at him without warning. Apparently my inebriated mind didn't care.

"What are you talking about?" I knew that voice. He was scared.

"I know you've been telling her lies about me. Why? And why are you lying to me about her? She's not over it, is she Bam? She's not fine like you said." I accused, shocked at myself. When Mige had told me everything, I hadn't really even believed him, but apparently, somewhere deep down, I knew he was telling the truth.

"Look, I was just hoping that if you knew she was okay, and she knew you were okay, you guys could get over this. It's been over half a year. It's beyond time to move on." For some reason this really pissed me off. He had no idea what it was like to lose a love like this.

"It's beyond time to tell the fucking truth. What else have you been lying about?" I demanded an answer and he knew I wasn't going to be satisfied until I got one.

"You know, I think it's kind of sad that you're more worried about some girl you dated for a few months than you are about your single mother ex-wife. She's the one you should be worried about." I felt like he was on Jonna's side, he always talked her up.

"Why should I worry about her? We're divorced Bam. I signed papers stating that I no longer have to give a fuck about her. She did this herself. She can find whatever deadbeat she slept with and beg him for help." I didn't know why but this seemed to piss him off.

"You're a real asshole, you know that? It's no wonder Jamie fucked another man." I lost it.

"You come say that to my mother fucking face." I threatened with every intention of kicking the shit out of him.

"You're an alcoholic. You're never anywhere near the people who care about you. You block people out of your life because you're sad about a break up. There's a lot of shit wrong with you Ville. Quit being a fucking junkie and grow up, before you lose more than a girl." He said this with something of a pain in his voice that I didn't understand. It was like he didn't want to say it, like he had to for some reason. I couldn't figure him out.

"That girl meant everything to me, and I'll deal with this however I want. I don't need you, or Mige, or anyone else to tell me how to manage my life. If I want to fucking drink, I'll do it. Who the hell knows if any of you even care about me anyway, as long as my face is still on the cover of magazines, right? As long as I'm still thanking you in public for our American audience, right? Well fuck that, and fuck you. I'm done." I hung up, frustrated and pissed off. What the hell did I do to deserve someone like Bam in my life?

I was starting to realize how used I felt by everyone, even if they weren't actually using me. My state of mind was so different than ever before, I was angry all the time, I didn't trust anyone, and I certainly didn't feel like anyone was ever being genuine. Mige was the closest thing I had to anyone real, and I was starting to question him too. Why the hell did he want me to talk to Jamie so bad? Why was he so certain she could be trusted? I just felt like everyone around me just wanted my face in a limelight to satisfy their own needs and I hated feeling that way, even though most of this came from my anger toward Bam.

Another tour started shortly after my argument with Bam. Mige still came and checked on me every day, which was actually amazing of him since I wasn't always the nicest. Bam and I didn't even try to contact each other, and honestly I never wanted to see his stupid face ever again. He ruined enough of my life, he didn't need to do further damage.

While traveling, I found myself thinking more and more about Jamie, probably because of the conversation I'd had with Mige. I hadn't stopped thinking about her since then, no matter how drunk I got. Even upon blacking out, the next morning I would often find notes scattered around with lyrics to letters to and about her. It was like there was no force on this planet could make me forget. So I got creative. I started taking Adderall.

The Adderall wasn't entirely a new thing, as I'd done it long before with Bam, who'd been the one to supply it, but this time I was on my own and I wasn't about to tell anyone. I started feeling a little better, but it didn't last long. The first 3 shows of the tour were great, I felt energetic, relieved, and above all, drunk. It was all I did, day in and day out. On the 5th day, Burton had to carry me to the start we were about to play on after I'd passed out in a ditch. Things were getting messy on the outside, and things were very quickly spinning out of control. At one point, I'd even passed out on stage for a short while. They had to stop our set and get me to wake up, and by some incredible force of nature, I stood up and played the rest of the show.

I wasn't sure how I was even still functioning, or if I was. I just kind of went along, hoping things would work out, but I was losing control and people were starting to notice, but stupid me didn't do anything about it, and it got worse. The depression that set in from my failure at my career sent me into a new place of thought, a place where anything I did to not feel anymore was a good idea, no matter how much it put my health at risk.

One awful night, I'd gone back to my hotel room with Linde, Mige, Burton, and quite a few other people I didn't even know or remember the names of. It's still a little fuzzy as to what went on, but we were all drinking, and one of the other guys in the room was someone who I'd gotten Adderall from in the past, so I trusted him to an extent. He took me out into the hallway, giving the excuse we were going to go get ice from the machine, and he gave me a small bag with a white powder inside. Had I been sober, I never would have taken it, but I was fairly intoxicated and took it without question, but I hadn't really done this before, so I just kind of copied what he did, but he was a much bigger man, and unfortunately I couldn't keep up, especially since this was something he'd built a tolerance to, as for me, I had no tolerance at all.

After a while, I started getting agitated with everything, I was freezing but my skin burned, like a fever, my head was pounding and I felt sick, the head spins weren't helping with any of it either. I felt like something was terribly wrong, like I'd finally gone too far.

I went to the bathroom to throw up, hoping it would help, but I hadn't done much throwing up, consciously anyway. I started having intense chest pains and I felt like my lungs were closing in on me, but it wasn't entirely form the asthma I was used to dealing with. This was an entirely different animal. This was overdose.

I laid down on the cold tile, hand shaking, internally panicking. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to call out for help, but I didn't want anyone to know how fucking stupid I was for doing coke anyway. All I could do was lay there and deal with it, unlike I had dealt with everything else in my life. It was pretty ironic, to be honest, and all I thought about was the one person I was trying to forget. Jamie. I wanted her, I craved for her touch and her comfort, I missed her like hell and a part of me finally allowed myself to admit that. I wasn't okay. This wasn't okay. I'd only started drinking to forget about things until a day came when it got better, but that day didn't come. And I only drank more so I could forget longer, and I started taking Adderall because I was freaking out about ruining my career, and when that backfired I just took the coke to get over it and actually feel different for once. It was all too much, and it was only happening because I didn't want to feel the pain of heartbreak. But now, I had no choice.

At some point I passed out, feeling hopeless and shaky and sick. Luckily, someone found me there on the floor, and took me to the emergency room. And that was how everyone found out that I had a serious problem.

I woke up in a bright hospital room, surrounded by my bandmates. I already assumed that tour was going to come to a halt, there was no way I was getting out of this one very easily. "Finally. I was starting to worry you'd never wake up." Mige said from a chair in the corner of the room.

"Fuck." Was about all I could say. I felt weak and shaky still, I wanted a cigarette and a big ass bottle of whatever I could get my hands on, but I could see that wasn't going to happen.

"What were you thinking? When did you start using hard drugs?" Linde asked, incredibly concerned. I felt guilty when I saw the look on his face.

"That was the first time I used coke." I admitted, feeling awful about putting everyone through this.

"The label is sending you to rehab." Burton said, looking a little pissed off.

"Rehab? Really? I don't need-"

"Yes. You do." Mige interrupted. "You've needed for your alcohol abuse for a long time Ville. Look, it's not like this is a punishment. We want to see you back to normal. We miss you."

"Yeah, he's right." Linde said, patting my arm. "You're not well. I feel like an idiot for not seeing it sooner. You've got a problem. Please, just let them help you. The facility they want to send you to is really nice. It's a 28 day program. I think it would do you a lot of good."

"When did this turn into an intervention?" I joked, but the seriousness never faded from them.

"When you overdosed on a hotel bathroom floor, Ville. That's when this became an intervention." Burton said, arms crossed.

"Fine." I sighed, already regretting agreeing to this, although I knew they'd never stop hounding me until I went. "But when I get out, I don't want anyone acting differently. Drink, smoke, whatever, I don't care, just don't censor yourselves around me. It'll only make it worse. I want things to be normal when I come back." I knew I needed this. And with a lot of the intoxication gone, I felt depressed, hung over, tired, but I had a more clear mind in a way, and I knew I had to do this to avoid problems like heart failure, ODing again, and probably some kind of asthma induced death. It was getting so serious now, and it had to be stopped. I could see that. Maybe it was time to change.