‹ Prequel: Changes
Making the Album
Hospitals.
The hospital was too clean, Tony realized. Too fucking clean. It was all a fucking lie, hiding the horror of death beneath it's glistening white surfaces.
She cuddled close to Billie, not caring that he was covered in blood. She couldn't stop shaking, and she hated how ridiculous she looked in her concert outfit.
Billie's fingers were trembling, and he'd been chain-smoking a pack of Camels since they'd arrived. The smell of blood on his clothes was sickening, but Billie didn't want to change.
They'd been there for hours, and no one was talking.
Mike was pale and shaky, and there were splotches of blood on his pants and shirt. Tre wouldn't look at anyone. He had put his arm around Mike, offering the kind of wordless comfort only friends can give.
Blondie was still clenching his drum sticks, and his face was tearstreaked. He still hadn't put on a shirt. A few of the younger nurses were giving him admiring looks, but the drummer ignored them.
Rabbit had been sitting in a chair by himself, jiggling his foot. Tears were dripping silently down his face. Tre wanted to assure the boy that he'd done all he could, that he'd saved all of their lives.
But he just couldn't find the right words.
Tom was smoking; there wasn't a drop of blood on him and he wasn't crying. He was just empty.
His father's violence had shocked him. And what scared him the most was that Tom could figure out exactly why he'd shot who he'd shot.
Jay and Mike had been targeted because they were gay and in love, and because the crowd had cheered them for it. Billie was targeted because he was a rock star, because he was famous and rich and his life had been good.
And because their deaths would have hurt Tom, right before his father killed him as well.
Tom stood up, grabbed the chair he'd been sitting on, and smashed it to bits. Then he sat down, pulled out another cigarette, and began smoking agian.
It was a long night. A long horrible night that should have been filled with laughter and happiness. They'd just played their first sold-out concert. They'd played with rock legends. They'd gotten applause and cheers.
And then it had all been ruined, by one man with a gun.
She cuddled close to Billie, not caring that he was covered in blood. She couldn't stop shaking, and she hated how ridiculous she looked in her concert outfit.
Billie's fingers were trembling, and he'd been chain-smoking a pack of Camels since they'd arrived. The smell of blood on his clothes was sickening, but Billie didn't want to change.
They'd been there for hours, and no one was talking.
Mike was pale and shaky, and there were splotches of blood on his pants and shirt. Tre wouldn't look at anyone. He had put his arm around Mike, offering the kind of wordless comfort only friends can give.
Blondie was still clenching his drum sticks, and his face was tearstreaked. He still hadn't put on a shirt. A few of the younger nurses were giving him admiring looks, but the drummer ignored them.
Rabbit had been sitting in a chair by himself, jiggling his foot. Tears were dripping silently down his face. Tre wanted to assure the boy that he'd done all he could, that he'd saved all of their lives.
But he just couldn't find the right words.
Tom was smoking; there wasn't a drop of blood on him and he wasn't crying. He was just empty.
His father's violence had shocked him. And what scared him the most was that Tom could figure out exactly why he'd shot who he'd shot.
Jay and Mike had been targeted because they were gay and in love, and because the crowd had cheered them for it. Billie was targeted because he was a rock star, because he was famous and rich and his life had been good.
And because their deaths would have hurt Tom, right before his father killed him as well.
Tom stood up, grabbed the chair he'd been sitting on, and smashed it to bits. Then he sat down, pulled out another cigarette, and began smoking agian.
It was a long night. A long horrible night that should have been filled with laughter and happiness. They'd just played their first sold-out concert. They'd played with rock legends. They'd gotten applause and cheers.
And then it had all been ruined, by one man with a gun.