The Day I Left The Womb

I blamed her.

I blamed her for everything and anything, and most of the time without valid reason. I blamed her when I didn't fit in at school, when the other girls rejected me and said I dressed in the wrong clothes. When they told me I listened to the wrong music and when I wore my make up differently to them. I blamed her over anyone else when they called me names and ignored me throughout my school life. It was her fault when my grades started to slip. I blamed her because she was never there to pick me up from the ground, to wipe my tears and to tell me she loved me. She was never able to hold me close so I could smell her sweet perfume and feel safe in her arms. She didn't teach me how to be a girl. Sometimes I wished it had been different. I wished I had had a Mother.

Even now I could remember all the times I would lay awake at night and cry. I would call out to God, asking why I was so different. Why I couldn't be like them. I just couldn't understand the other girls, and how their minds seemed to work so much more differently to mine. They had been taught how to be feminine and all the things that made them seem more dainty and graceful, then when they hit puberty they learnt how to flirt with guys and flutter their eyelashes. By age sixteen all I had been taught was how to belch, party, chug, growl and fight, while being entrusted with one single law that I would live by for the rest of my days; Take No Shit.

My brother had got into a lot of trouble for that one. Dad wasn't too pleased when I got excluded from high school after I beat some prep to the ground after I had finally taken enough shit from her. My brother was proud of me, knowing how good I felt after all those nights I had spent crying over how she made me feel for the past seven years. It was always my brother that had come to comfort me when I had cried myself into oblivion. He always managed to pick up the pieces, and put a smile back on my face.

My brother meant more to me than anyone else. He had taught me how to live.

_

"Shut the fuck up, Ronnie," I stated playfully, roughly pushing my brother's leg from my lap before shoving him in the shoulder. He grinned over at me knowingly, before his arms folded across his chest and he turned his attention forward. I watched his profile for a moment before also turning my gaze around the rest of the small dressing room.

The sofa beneath me was so worn there were holes in the red fabric, and the fluffy white stuffing was spilling out, with the blue one on the opposite wall looking much the same. There was a large mirror on the back wall, next to a small lamp shade that was caked in thick dust. Black cases sporting clothes and instruments were scattered around the floor, most of them set against the wall. There was no one else in the room with us, but I doubted any of the guys would actually want to spend time in this room anyway. It was ridiculous that we had been landed with the most rundown place in the venue. I suppose we hadn't made enough of a name for ourselves to get that far, though. Ronnie had high hopes, and an up beat attitude. I don't think he cared how crappy the conditions were at this moment in time.

"Emi?" My brother inquired as he lent his head back on the rough material, his eyes turning to me. I glanced at him and smiled into his chocolate brown gaze. It was one of many qualities we both shared, and yet somehow our father had brilliant blue eyes. To look into my brothers eyes, or my own, was to look at my mother, I supposed. I found little comfort in the thought.

"What the hell, Ron?" I said with a grin after a long silence, finding his expression interrogative and thoughtful. It wasn't like him at all, and he deserved a little teasing for that at least.

He scowled at me and stretched across to slap my thigh. "Shut up, dip shit," he growled with a fake glare, turning away. "You know what I meant," he added in a matter of fact way. My smile gradually faded as my brothers sentimental moment seeped further into my skin, corrupting my thoughts. I knew him better than I knew myself, which made it that much more obvious to me.

A loud boom caused the room to lightly shudder, the closed door knocking against its frame. My eyes turned skywards to the cracked ceiling, as I realised the first band must have taken to the stage. I sighed and stood up abruptly, running my fingers through my hair stressfully.

"Fuck!" I shouted out, tugging at the fake, black strands beneath my fingertips before running my hands down my face. The tension filling my body was not being helped by the echo of bass from the stage above us. I slowly approached the mirror and rubbed my hand across the cool surface, wiping the dust from it and staring critically at my reflection. The heavy eyeliner I always applied was already messed up, darkening my eyes further. I just wanted this day to be over with.

I heard Ronnie get up from behind me, looking into the mirror to watch him walking across the room. His expression was serious again, as he grew closer, until our faces were watching each other through the reflective surface. My eyebrows furrowed as I watched his face. To look at Ronnie at all was like looking at myself. The only differences between our appearances were my lips were slightly fuller, and my face a little more rounded, though both were hardly noticeable. Neither of us resembled our father. Not in the slightest.

"Em-"

"Don't, Ronnie, okay?" I interrupted quickly, hiding my face in my hands as I felt an arm wrap over my shoulders. I shook my head slowly before glancing up into my brothers face. "Its just a day. Any other day," I said sternly.

"It's not everyday you turn 18," he said simply. "Or everyday your oldest brother nearly kills himself," Ronnie continued in a reasoning tone, as I turned to the tattered carpet. "Or everyday-"

"Stop it," I stated firmly, interrupting his words as they ripped into me. I appreciated the fact we were both terrible at talking to each other about the more serious issues in a sensitive way, but I wasn't in the mood to exchange blows.

"Sorry," he mumbled quietly as his arm dropped from my shoulder. I suddenly felt guilty, as I always do when Ronnie apologises to me. Hes so much of an ass the rest of the time, you know when its honest. You know he knows hes done wrong.

"Don't be," I replied softly, turning to follow him with my eyes as he walked back over to the sofa. I watched as he heavily sat back down onto the material, it sinking beneath his weight. I sighed to myself and slowly began to pace the room, walking in circles and driving myself slightly crazy. This room was making me restless. I wanted the guy's show to start already, so I could let out some energy.

"I'm lost, Ron," I sighed to myself, sitting down on the floor. I started plucking at stray strands of cotton poking out of the carpet. "You know? There's like a hole. I don't understand anymore," I said simply, resting my elbow on my knee, my chin in my palm.

"I know," Ronnie said simply. "It'll be okay. Tomorrows another day," he said, his tone still low and slightly distant.

I sighed lightly and started to chew on my bottom lip. "Is it wrong?" I asked simply, looking over to my brother. His expression remained blank for a moment, before it turned a little harsh.

"Is it wrong that we've left everything?" He asked rhetorically. "Considering what we had, I doubt it."

"But Dad-"

"Dad knows we couldn't stay forever."

"And Alec-"

"Has been killing himself since day one. He doesn't listen, Emi. We cant stop him with those god damn needles. No one can!" Ronnie replied sharply, the volume raising slightly with his words. "I feel sorry for Sarah. Shes the one left with that fuck-up."

"Ronnie!" I scolded as he referred to our oldest brother. The one with the real problems. The one who remembers. Ronnie may have been my life and everything in it, he may have brought me up and taught me everything I knew, but he could still just be as heartless as the next person. I, unfortunately, had inherited the gene too. I couldn't really judge him.

Ronnie didn't reply, but instead turned his gaze away from me and folded his arms back across his chest. We argued like cat and dog too, though grudges never lasted long. They couldn't, because Id always need my big brother for some crisis I was going through. He'd always be there to catch me.

We continued to sit in our stubborn silence for a while, until both our attention flew to the tattered door as is it creaked open. Max's well groomed yet perfectly messed up head poked round into the dim lit room, curious eyes resting on each of us in turn, before settling back on my brother.

"Ronnie, we're on in a second, what are you doing?" He asked stressfully, scowling over at his band mate. I glanced back over at Ronnie and his eyes shifted between me and Max, appearing to not want to break our current argument. I rolled my eyes, deciding I would have to be the bigger person today, and pulled myself to my feet.

"Come on, rock star. Can't keep the groupies waiting," I sighed, resting my hands on my hips. There was another moment of silence in which I watched Ronnie hold back an amused smile, before he lowered his gaze to his lap. I could literally see his muscles relaxing as he calmed down.

"Fine, fine," he sighed back eventually. "Only cause the ladies love me," he added bluntly, lazily getting up from the sofa and stretching out.

"Dude, that's me," Max stated seriously, still hanging through the doorway. Ronnie's eyes grew wide as he paused, looking at Max in a mix of suprise and accusation. Apparently, Max knew what that look meant as much as I did, because his playful smirk quickly fell into a hint of panic.

"Cocky motherfucker, aren't you?" Ronnie stated, narrowing his eyes at Max. I held back my laughter as I could see Max slowly stepping backwards, Ronnie's eyes burning holes in him. Reading the others movements, Max suddenly jolted from the the room, flying into the corridor as Ronnie gave chase to the bass player. I couldn't help but laugh as my brother charged past me, heavily colliding with the wall of the narrow corridor just outside the door, before pushing himself in the same direction that Max had gone. I shook my head before slowly wandering after them, imagining seeing them both tumbling onto the stage. It would give the fans something to amuse them, at least.

_

"If you see Mother, tell her I can sing."

I smiled to myself as I watched Ronnie sitting almost serenely on the edge of the small stage, singing with all his heart as he looked out over the couple of hundred kids packed into the dark room. The rest of the boys were sitting or standing absently around the stage, slowly moving or bopping their heads to the acoustic guitar that Bryan was playing as he sat cross legged in the center of the stage. Every single person in the room seemed to be taking a breather as the intense song filled the room. In fact, that was the whole feel of the venue; intense. The audience was hanging on Ronnie's every word, on every chord. It was a beautiful thing.

"And Daddy, how are you today? You must be proud of the boys that you have raised," Ronnie sang into the microphone, his eyes closing softly as he lost himself in the music. I couldn't help but smile as the crowd started singing the last chorus along with Ronnie, happiness soaring through me. Every single one of those fans was enjoying and contributing to the song that we had written together. The only song Ronnie had written that was from the heart. That meant something.

My brother had stopped singing as he watched the crowd screaming the words back at him. His smile matched that of mine exactly, and I knew what it felt like. It felt like we had made it. We had got out, and had this whole world ahead of us. A world where people cared about the music Ronnie made and could related to him as a person. A world where people would look up to him. That's all he had ever dreamed of.

Ronnie slowly pulled himself to his feet, still standing beneath the lone spot light as he joined in with the last couple of lines of the song, pouring the last of his energy for the night into those lyrics. The crowd responded instantly, their chants growing louder before the last chord was struck and Ronnie's voice lead the way into silence.

You could hear him exhale deeply over the microphone as he caught his breath. "Thank you guys," he said softly, meaning every word. "When we come back, we want every single one of you fuckers to do that again, okay?" He called out, gaining a loud cheer from the crowd. He chuckled lightly and nodded, his eyes scanning the screaming fans. This was our life now.

"We'll see you soon!" He shouted, picking up his water bottle from his feet and flinging it into the crowd, before turning away. All the other guys followed suit, throwing plectrums and drumsticks before following after their singer. I grinned at my brother as he approached me, watching from the wings of the stage. He returned my smile, wrapping his arms around my waist and embracing me tightly, picking me up off the ground slightly as my arms clutched around his neck to stop me from falling.

"Eww, Ronnie sweat," I squealed as his laugh vibrated through me, before I felt my feet touch the ground again. I let go of my brother and scowled at him playfully as the rest of the guys started walking past us, patting Ronnie on the back as they went.

"That was amazing," I stated, as I turned and Ronnie hung an arm loosely across my shoulders. We started following after the rest of the guys, Ronnie nodding in thanks to some of the techs wandering around backstage as we made our way back to the dressing room.

"Wasn't it?" He asked back, for once appearing quiet humble and at a loss for words. I smiled as I rested my head against his shoulder as we wandered down the narrow corridor and turned into our room, all the guys excitedly talking loudly.

"Dad would be proud," I mumbled half to myself as the door closed softly behind us, my gaze falling to the ground. I felt Ronnie tense a little beside me as his arm fell away from my shoulder.

"Probably," he admitted dismissively, his tone low. I sighed a little and glanced up at my brother who sent me an empty smile. "This is what we've got now, Emi. Didn't you feel it?" He asked, his eyebrows knitting together as he watched me. I nodded slowly and started walking away from him, towards the other guys who still seemed oblivious to us as they already started on the alcohol.

I felt Ronnie lightly grab my arm, causing me to glance back at him in question. "And happy birthday, sis," he added seriously. I frowned a little and he nodded towards a wall clock hovering above the dressing room mirror. Its cover was cracked and dusty, like most things in the room, but I could still read the time perfectly. Seventeen minutes past ten. I was born three minutes ago.

I smiled in thanks at Ronnie before wandering over to the broken blue sofa that none of the guys had occupied yet. I sighed lightly as I watched them all enjoying themselves, Ronnie included as he got dragged into the excitement, a bottle of JD being pushed his way. This was our life now. Out there on the stage, it all seemed to make perfect sense... But now I wasn't so sure. We had left so much behind. Did this out weigh it? A rock star life of fans and parties? I wasn't even in the band, so what did that leave for me?

My eyes raised up as I saw Max wandering over to me, another Jack Daniels bottle being directed at me.

"C'mon, Emi. Celebrate! It's your birthday, after all," he said softly, standing over me with a ecstatic smile on his face.

I chuckled softly and shook my head. "Thanks, Max, but really I'm okay," I assured him, lightly pushing the bottle away. He stuck out his bottom lip in disappointment knowing it would tug at my heart strings. Being best friends for ten years could do that to you. However, I refused to conform and laughed off his action.

"Emma!" He growled finally, realising the puppy dog routine wasn't working. He collapsed down beside me and rested both my bottle and his on his lap. "Why aren't you enjoying yourself?" He asked lightly, watching me curiously. I shrugged as I felt vibrations starting to travel through my leg, causing me to frown as I started digging through my pocket for my phone. My eyes grew wide as I noticed the caller ID immediately, and I quickly pulled myself to my feet.

"Who's calling?" Max asked lightly, tugging on the bottom of my shirt to stop me walking away. I pulled the material roughly from his grasp and shushed him as I flipped open my cell, holding it timidly to my ear as I separated myself from the noise the guys were making. I watched as Max shrugged off my action and returned to his friends.

"Hello?" I practically whispered into the receiver, covering my free ear with my hand to try and block out the guys' conversations. My eyebrows knitted together as a concerned tone spoke hurriedly to me, making the words hard to distinguish. Fast talking was something Ronnie had inherited from our father.

"Hey Em, who are you talking to?" Ronnie called over lightly, as he hung a towel around his neck. I found myself unable to reply, and clenched my teeth tight over my bottom lip. At my silence, Ronnie turned to look over me, and I also attracted the attention of Max and Omar, causing the room to quieten down considerable.

I noticed Ronnie scowl lightly as he stood back up to his full height, after placing his JD bottle dismissivly on the ground. "Emi?" He asked more sternly, his eyebrows furrowing together. I knew he was catching on fast, but there was something in me that didn't want to listen to him. I was just like my brother, except I wasn't. There was something in me that craved security, which he just didn't have.

I shook my head quickly at my brother as the worried voice speaking incessantly in my ear craved attention. "Yeah, yeah, okay," I mumbled quickly into the mouth piece, as my brother slowly started walking over to me. It was my instinct to take a few steps back.

"Put the phone down," he said firmly, holding out his hand to me asking for the small handset. I shook my head again and paused as I felt myself back into the wall beside the door.

"Emi, please, someone wants to talk to you."

I nodded although I knew Dad wouldn't be able to see it from his location at our home, so quickly mumbled back into the mouthpiece a simply reply. All of the other guys were now watching Ronnie with a warning look, as he continued to advance on me.

"Emma, put the fucking phone down," he demanded sharply, his eyes searching mine as I noticed Max take a few steps forwards. He was prepared to distract the wrath he thought he could see building his friend away from me and onto him, though the truth behind the matter suprised me. Ronnie's eyes were what gave it away, as they spoke to me in whispers. He wasn't mad at me. He was scared.

"Ronnie, calm down," Max reasoned as he rested a hand firmly on Ronnie's shoulder. My brother simply shook him off and stood a meter from me, his eyes locked with mine. He was fighting with me mentally to end the call, but I didn't want to surrender to him. Not this time. I was so... Curious.

My whole body suddenly froze as a light voice entered the phone and brought me back down to reality. A new women's voice, yet it seemed strangely familiar. It somehow had the power to make my heart stop and the breath catch in my throat. It made goosebumps travel across my skin, and forced that old emptiness in me to ache almost painfully.

"Emma? I... Jesus, Simon, you know I hate talking over phones."

I swallowed hard as I dived into my brothers eyes. Those eyes we both shared, that had never been seen in our family genes. The eyes that originally belonged to someone else.

"... Mom?"