My Drug, Intoxicated

Blake's P.O.V.

"Thank you all. This is the last night of our tour. We love you New Jersey." I waved to the crowd, running off of the stage. I grabbed a bottle of water and chugged half of it down, Jerry and Fizz at my side in seconds.

"That. Was. The best show we've played yet." Fizz was beaming at me and I smiled back.

"It really was. Now it's time to go back to New York and back to our lazy daytime jobs." During the days we all take part-time jobs to pay rent. We played shows everynight. Jerry worked at this little bookstore, he was like the only employee. I worked at a juice, smoothie bar place and Fizz worked at a Dry-Cleaners. All the jobs sucked but they got us by.

"No way man, i'm skipping work tomorrow and staking out in front of the book store to meet Danny Sike." I froze at his words. Danny. Danny. Danny. Danny's dead. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. I didn't realize I was trembling until Jerry had grabbed ahold of both of my arms. I stared at him wide-eyed.

"Blake, what the fuck is wrong man?!" I ripped myself out of his arms, running toward the door. I ran out of the club and down the street, wiping at my eyes. Danny's dead. Why does he have to pop up everywhere, reminding me of what i'll never have again. Of what I lost.

Danny's fucking dead, damnit.

I looked around, not knowing were I was. Fucker. I just got myself lost in the middle of Jersey. I reached toward my pocket, expecting to feel my phone but feeling nothing but my own leg beneath the cloth. I lost my fucking phone while I ran.

I turned around, and started heading toward the direction I had came from, attempting to get back to the club. Some random guys were walking across the other side of the street. I headed toward them, to ask for directions.

"Hey can you help me?" One of the guys shrugged.

"Sure, what do you need?"

"I need directions to a club, it's called Black Magic?" The guy froze, his eyes glittering down on me.

"That fag club?" I shrugged. Looking back, there were a lot of guys in the club, and hardly any girls. "I really hate homos."

I could feel the rage build up in me. Three years later and one sentence could bring me back to that moment I found Danny. Fucking intolerant, red-neck, pieces of shit.

The guys that appeared to be the leader swung at me, but I ducked, bring my fist back up and hitting him square in the chin. He stumbled back and I took this oppurtunity to slam my fist into his nose.

"Fucking. Stupid. Shithead. It's. All. Your. Fault. Danny's. Dead. Fucktard." I alternated between punching him and speaking. His friends were long gone and I was now sitting on him, slamming his head into the pavement over and over again. "I. Fucking. Hate. Everyone. Like. You." His face had now ammassed to a bloody pulp.

"Danny, what the fuck are you doing?" I whipped around, seeing the van in the middle of the road, Fizz and Jerry staring out the window. "We've been looking for you everywhere?!" I stood up, calmly walking toward the van. I slid open the back door, sitting in the backseat.

"Is, is he dead?" Fizz was staring at me in shock. I calmly stared at him.

"Just drive." He looked like he was about to say something else, but I think I scared him. He started the van back up, and we drove away leaving that bloody fucker on the sidewalk.

I curled up in a ball on the seat and started crying, staring at my blood-covered hands.

Nineteen years old and i'd already become my father.