𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞 | machine gun kelly

2

THE LIGHTS WENT OFF ON the stage, plunging it into darkness as the crowd cheered. The show was over. The screams of the raving fans continued, Trippie still muttering unintelligible things into the mic, as high as a kite. The fact that he did drugs on stage was alarming, his concerts were prone to being stopped midway and shut down by police.

It made me nervous always, being present when he performed. He was dangerous, I knew that, but like a moth to a flame, I was always there. I fixed my appearance in Trippie's dressing room mirror. I hadn't left during the entirety of the two hour show. Listening to the performance through the muffled voice of my boyfriend reverberating through the walls. Making sure my hair was alright, I stepped out of the room, quickly making my way outside. He was always not right after his shows, he was more violent and aggressive. The adrenaline made him that way, the exhaustion. I preferred to be out in the open with them when he was that way, instead of coped up inside one on one. 

"Davina Martinez," A voice called my name as I made my way into the crowd being ushered out of the venue. I looked behind to find one of the backstage soundcheck crew. A middle aged man with a small headset on his head and a clipboard in his hands, I did not know his name. The crew kept changing every day, Trippie's annoyance resulted in him firing crew every day and hiring new ones. 

"Trippie is asking for you," He said. I pulled out my phone from my clutch purse, turning on the screen to check the time. It was an hour past midnight already. 

"Tell him I'm going home," I respond, turning to walk away. I cannot face him after what happened between us before the show, that, mixed with his post show adrenaline exhaustion will surely traumatize me. 

I quickly blend in with the crowd, breathless chatter of how fucking exciting the show was. Shouts of how fucking crazy was that thing Trippie did with his eyes and head, surrounding me from everywhere. I dispersed with the crowd and made my way to the parking lot where I had parked my car. I switched my doors on by pressing the button on the car remote attached with the engine key, the headlight flickered on for a sec and a ding sounded as the doors unlocked. In the darkness of this parking lot, this was too much light and noise. I quickly reached my car, but as soon as I opened the driver's seat door, another hand slammed it shut. It was Trippie, I knew by the white sleeve and the dark fingers covered in silver rings. 

"Leaving so soon?" He asked, his voice sounding sober. I turned to face him, he looked sober too, the most sober he could be which was not much at all. He looked at me, he had me trapped between his body and my own car, his right hand firmly on the car door. His dark irises bore into mine as he tried to read me. He did not know how to. He could never truly read me, at least, I made sure of that. I could read him though, his manner was articulated, planned. Everything he did was a thing he had done countless times before. His act was a cycle, and I had each point memorized. 

His left hand reached up and he touched my face, fingers railing on my jaw as he tucked a piece of my raven hair behind my ear. In the dim moonlight, his facial tattoos glinted even though they just ink. The cross on his forehead was so close I could see the perspiration on it. 

"Why are you running away from me baby?" His voice a raspy whisper, his eyes still examining my face. 

"I-I just," I started, I did not know what I wanted to say. I had no words to say to him. He wasn't a listener, he had never been one. 

"You know I love you right?" he interrupted, his left hand now behind my neck, his fingers holding my throat from behind. If he wanted to choke me, he would. 

My eyes snapped to his, there was no love in them. I never understood what he thought love was, if it really was a thing worth living and dying for, it was not this. It was not what we had.