Pandemonium

I spent sixty days in the frigid icy wilderness of Estonia. It had begun as a one-man exodus, to clear my head and heal; armed with nothing but a duffel bag stuffed hastily with clothes and my bass. I’d gone and rented out a small but accommodating cabin nestled in the snow-covered deciduous forest completely isolated from the world, save the occasional trip to the nearest town for supplies.

By the end of my excursion I felt like a completely different man, enveloped in my music and sure of my place in the world, feeling renewed and ready to show the world who Ville Hermanni Valo had metamorphosized into, no longer the unsure creature who’d abandoned his home and band a few months previously. I’d written dozens of albums, filling entire notebooks with potential lyrics, using my own thoughts, my newfound love for spirits, and the lonely expanse of forest for inspiration. I’d contacted Mige and let him know of my plan and location and he had visited me once about halfway through my self-implicated exile, to guarantee to my friends and family back home that I hadn’t completely lost my mind and committed suicide. We had sat and drank Russian vodka all night, him listening to me drunkenly ramble on about my newfound look on life. He had been sympathetic but considerate, never once bringing up the reason for my nearly psychotic breakdown. I willed myself to forget about those pools of blue, persistently and effectively distracting myself with alcohol and music.

I’d come home, feeling refreshed and ready to take on the world again, my mother and a few friends meeting me at my home the day I returned. I’d reassured them I was in perfect health, mentally and physically and that night I had contacted Seppo, the band manager to begin planning a new album who was more than happy to hear what I had to say. I began falling into a very serious alcohol addiction but chose to ignore the problem and Venus Doom was released six months later, and we’d toured all over Europe and North America for an additional eight months. I’d been asked once in an interview who had influenced the album and I’d recoiled at the question with a nervous smile, unable to give a coherent answer.

I’d wanted to extend the tour, happy to be on the road and doing what I loved again but Gas was expecting a baby and Mige was trying to raise his own family as well in between practices, tours, and meet and greets. It was around that time, that my alcoholism began to get the best of me, and I felt myself truly spiraling. A year passed, and I eventually landed myself in a rehab center after a particularly bad binge. I’d emerged a few months later, sober and feeling better than I had in months.

I spent every waking moment pouring my efforts into HIM, doing whatever I could to be as involved with my band as I could, effectively moving on from the past and into the unknown future, poised and equipped for whatever it could hold.

***
We had ended up in West Chester because of Bam. He was collaborating with us for a music video for one of our songs and it was taking longer than we had foreseen. What was supposed to be a two week job had now turned into a thirty day project due to budget issues, miscommunications, and tech problems and to avoid paying a ridiculous hotel fee, Gas, myself, Burton, Linde, and Mige were all crashing at Castle Bam for a majority of our stay. I’d honestly feared running into Bam’s cousin, but he had told me she’d reinvented herself and gone off to college and was hardly around anymore which helped me relax. I’d released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding but a small part of me had been disappointed. We had not spoken a single word since I’d left her and regardless even after nearly three years I still felt as if I owed her a thousand apologies, especially now that I was sober and thinking coherently again. Anytime I’d thought about the situation, it felt uncomfortable and unfinished.

I hadn’t expected the opportunity to present itself like this though.

I was unaware of the situation that had occurred with Bam’s cat, only coming out of my allotted guest room to see what Bam was in hysterics about. He had just gotten off the phone with someone and was quite literally losing his shit.

Bam’s cat had gone through a seizure episode he said, and he’d quickly asked me to accompany him to the vet, since Missy was away at work. I hadn’t thought anything of it, happy to be moral support for one of my closest friends and popped another allergy pill before hoping in Bam’s Hummer while he placed the shivering mass of orange fur into my lap, doing his best to remain calm.

The cat- Tiny I think he had called it, was drooling on himself, and the bath towel that was wrapped loosely around him. I did my best to console the whimpering creature, trying not to make a disgusted face while it shook it’s head, effectively splattering long thin tendrils of saliva on much of the interior of the vehicle as Bam threw us in reverse. I tried to ignore the tears that were evidently welling up in Bam’s eyes as he sped through town to what I assumed was the nearest animal hospital.

Within minutes we arrived, and he jumped out and ran over to my side, yanked open my door and grabbed the sickly feline from my hands, rushing towards the door of the establishment. It was all I could do to keep up with him, stumbling over myself to catch up. I just narrowly caught the door as he hurried inside, leaving me quite literally in the dust.

The moment I stepped into the lobby, my nose was assaulted with the smell of disinfectants and wet dog. Bam was at the counter, trying to explain to the receptionist what was wrong but was failing miserably as hysteria kicked in. She seemed to get the general idea though and ushered us through a door to her left, reassuring us that the doctor would be in momentarily before closing the door and leaving us alone. I glanced at Bam who was sitting in the only chair nestled in the furthest corner, comforting his cat. I turned uneasily to the posters decorating the walls. I’d just begun circling the room, stopping to curiously read a printout about pet obesity taped to the wall directly next to the door I assumed the doctor would enter through when it opened, and I was met by a girl who was almost a full foot shorter than me, with silvery white hair tucked into a bun besides a few loose strands. I’d begun to muster an apology for being in the way when I glanced down into a shockingly familiar set of cerulean eyes.

Everything about her was different almost, but I would recognize those eyes hidden behind that same smoky makeup she’d often adorned anywhere.

I watched as her mouth dropped into a surprised ‘O’ shape, her eyes getting the size of dinner plates before she quite literally slammed the door in my face, leaving Bam and I both stunned. I looked back at him with a malicious glare.

“Wynter works here!?” I exclaimed, doing my best to calm my suddenly erratic breathing and loud voice.

“Motherfucker this isn’t about you, this is about my fucking cat!” Bam snarled, standing and tucking Tiny under one arm carefully before meeting my gaze.

“You could’ve warned me!” I yelled back, throwing both of my hands up in a defeated manner, my heart racing a mile a minute and threatening to erupt from my chest.

“Um, gentlemen,” a male voice interrupted our argument. A man adorning a white lab coat with greying hair slicked back had walked into the room unbeknownst to us.

“Please sir, are you the vet? There’s something wrong with my cat,” Bam explained, fighting back emotions and holding Tiny out to him pitifully. The door opened again, and I jumped, fearing the worst but was relieved when an older woman dressed in scrubs popped in, joining the doctor’s side.
I could feel my lungs doing their best to inhale and exhale, but they felt crushed against my abruptly too miniscule ribcage. I wasn’t sure if it was the animal hair I was allergic to causing this effect or the fact I’d just quite literally ran into my ex-girlfriend, but I was beginning to feel faint.

Suddenly, the room was too small, and I felt the unrelinquishing urge to excuse myself. I needed some fresh air immediately.

I excused myself, now that there was nothing more I could do for the situation at hand and ducked through the lobby and out the front door, a cigarette already in-between my lips as I fumbled with a lighter once I was back at the Hummer.

A dozen different emotions were fighting for dominance in my head as I took a shaky drag of my cigarette, exhaling it quickly through my nose. I’d imagined this scenario a thousand times, a small part of me secretly wishing it would happen, the other sane aspect of my brain knowing what an awful idea that would be.

I’d fallen irrevocably in love with Wynter Margera in a way I’d never experienced with another woman, and I’d run away from it with my tail tucked between my legs. I knew she hated me for what I’d done but I had hoped she would understand that I’d done it for her to protect her. Although I thought I was, I was not ready to connect with another human being on such a spiritual and profound level. I would only hurt her further if I’d continued our relationship. I left her because I loved her.

And yet, just now seeing her I could feel old emotions stirring in my heart and I urged them away, running a hand through my short hair. Id cut it in a drunken stupor with a kitchen knife on one of my many binges and now it hung just above my ears, growing slowly as it recouped from my abuse.

After I finished my cigarette, I gave a sigh, pushing all thoughts of Wynter aside and did my best to man the fuck up. I needed to be there for my friend, I couldn’t hide out here like some child. I was stronger than this. I began to walk back up to the clinic, doing my best to keep my head held high.
Mustering what courage I could, I took a deep breath and grabbed the door handle, ready to face whatever was on the other side.