This Tragic Affair

'Make me proud.'

The words resonated in my head as I looked at Ronnie standing in my door way. Well, here was my chance.

"Um, yeah, you did. Here." I held out his keys, still cold in my grasp, for him. He quickly took them, thanked me, turned, and headed back towards the elevator. I closed the door and leaned my head against it.

"What the hell was that?"

I jumped and turned to see Johnny, yet again on my couch.

"I give you the perfect chance to clear your head and this is what you do?"

"I know! I know! I'm chicken shit." I was also an apparent schitzofrinic, but I decided to leave that alone.

"No you're....Yeah, you are." He sighed and held his head in his hands.

"Have no fear, Syn Gate is here to help." Right on cue, Synyster Gates [obviously] walked out my hallway and stood in front of me. I was even more stunned. "What's the matter?" he smirked. "Never seen a rock star before?"

"Syn, we're not here to fuck around."

"I'm fully aware of that. She, on the other hand," he smiled as he threw an arm around my shoulders, "is."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, you didn't die just to die, did you? You're dead, for Christ sakes! You've got nothing to lose!"

"Brian!" Johnny snapped. "Cut it out. We're trying to help her, not turn her into a fucking groupie! Now calm the fuck down or go home."

"Alright, alright. Forgive me?" he pleaded, giving me a puppy-dog stare.

"Um, yes?" He smiled and gave me a kiss on the cheek, bringing a little color to my face.

"Sorry, he's drunk," Johnny mumbled apologetically.

"Am not!"

"You'll have to excuse these two," came yet anther voice from behind me- the voice of Zacky Vengeance. "They haven't had a drink today."

Had my imagination always been his active?

"Okay... Um, not to be rude, but why are you guys here? If you're even here..."

"Well, we're supposed to be helping you."

"I guess we haven't, huh?" Synyster said, more to himself than anyone else. "Whoops."

"Not really..." Truth be told, they were making it worse, but hey. You don't complain when in the presence of one of your favorite bands- or at least half of it.

"Then let's fix that," Zacky smiled, as he landed on the couch next to Johnny.

'Please do,' I thought.

"The answer to this is simple: have a little faith. Right now you don't, and right now you're nowhere. Get some faith, get somewhere good. Got it?"

"Okay..."

"Ooh, wrong answer, sweetheart," Syn laughed. "Think of it like this: you're in a band. You're band is just starting out, so you send some demos to some record companies. A few weeks go by and you haven't heard anything. You start thinking 'Maybe the didn't like us. Maybe they signed someone better. Maybe we're not good enough.' Now what's that going to do for you? Nothing. Nothing except set you up for defeat. Moral of the story: time and faith fix everything. Oh," he smirked as he placed his hat on my head. "A good fedora always helps, too."

I let his words settle in my head and thought about them for a second. In some weird, hallucinogenic kind of way, they seemed to reassure me. They left no question unanswered.

"How did you guys do that?" I said after a while.

"Omnipresence, sweetie," Synyster smirked. "Look it up." With that, he pulled the brim of his hat down over my eyes. When I pulled it back up, they were gone, and I was alone once again.

I took the black fedora off my head and stared at it in my hands.

"Faith and time," I mumbled to myself. "Faith and time..."

Heading into my room, I laid down on the bed, shut my eyes, and drifted to sleep.

I had had enough hallucinations for one night.