When it's time to go on stage, I'm too scared to look in the front row. I feel bad because I know the fans I met earlier are there, but he has to be beside them. The thought of him approaching a fan and asking them to give me that letter pops into mind again. I feel guilty and I'm worried about everyone that comes near me. What if he lashes out or hurts someone else? I don't think I could live with myself. However, there's also the threat he could release those pictures of Mike and I.
Obviously, I would rather he release the photos than hurt anyone. If that happened, I'd also have to face the fact that I've been hiding things from Mike. Would it be the end of our friendship? Could he even look me in the eyes?
Without thinking, my eyes flicker to the front row, but then quickly turn away. I have to look again when I realize his face didn't flash before my eyes. He isn't there. I don't understand. If he isn't here, how did those pictures get to me? Did he ask a fan to do it, then just leave? Why?
I'm in an automatic state while preforming, not giving much thought to what I'm doing. The words to our songs flow out of my mouth, but I'm not focusing on them. I'm not bouncing about the stage or even looking into the crowd, let alone giving them any love or attention. I find myself staring out into the void. My eyes are glued to the dark space above everyone's heads, where the chaotic stage lights don't reach.
The paranoid thoughts spiral in my head. I can't help wondering if he's not here because he's setting up cameras in my hotel room. Maybe he knows my routine of smoking a cigarette after the show and is waiting for me. I can't help feeling scared, I'm unsure what steps to take to protect myself.
Guilt starts bubbling in my stomach. It's not fair to Mike or anyone around me. He's basically getting stalked as well since he's by my side so often. He doesn't even know he's being watched, yet I do and don't tell him. I feel terrible. If anything were to happen to him, it would be my fault. The fans are also in danger, being next to someone so unpredictable. My head starts to hurt, thinking about what could happen. I truly feel like an awful person for not saying anything.
What if he's hurt others? What if I could've prevented that by speaking out? I'm guilty by association. I know what type of person he is, what he's capable of, and have warned nobody. I blame myself for not just what he did to me, but for what he could've done to others.
The rest of the show seems to fly by as I'm trapped in my thoughts. I hardly moved from a single position most of the time and felt terrible about it. I was so caught up in my head, I must've ruined the show for some fans. I feel so low and groggy, like I've been asleep or crying for hours. I don't speak to the band when we leave the stage, they don't attempt talking with me either. Maybe they didn't even notice I was off the whole time.
A cigarette or two sounds nice, but I'm scared. I'm too worried he'll confront me, so I decide to wait. I end up walking alongside Mike, who hadn't said a word to me. We headed back to the hotel together in silence. I'm worried he's mad at me about the show, that I wasn't energetic enough. However, he still says nothing as we reach our shared room.
Before we enter, I remember the possibility of cameras or even microphones. As soon as Mike unlocks the door and we step inside, I start searching. Around the tv, under the bed, near the end tables, inside the chairs, between the mattress, in the bathroom, under the sink, in the shower, all the cabinets and cupboards, the closets - everywhere. In my frantic search, I hardly noticed the mess I was creating.
Mike gently grasps my hand, then pulls me into his arms. As soon as my head makes contact with his chest, I can't help bursting into tears. He slowly rubs circles on my back as I fight against an anxiety attack. I couldn't find anything, yet I feel so sure he's watching me. I've been in a constant state of fear for so long, it's hard to hide it.
"I wish you'd tell me what's wrong," Mike's sighs quietly in a voice just above a whisper. I could tell it hurts him seeing me like this, even if I'm convinced my problems bother him.
"I don't want to worry you," I honestly reply. The thought of showing him the pictures comes to mind, but I fight against it. I can't tell him. I just can't, not now.
"I don't want you to hide things from me," He counters. "I'm more worried not knowing. It clearly bothers you."
"I'll tell you when I'm ready," I promise, he shakes his head and pulls away from me.
"You won't be ready until it's too late, I know how you work. You'll push alone until you literally can't anymore. Even then, you'll hesitate," He pouts. "You can't hide how much whatever it is hurts you. I have ideas about what it could be, but I still feel so clueless. You trashed the room, I'm assuming looking for cameras like what we found before, but it seems to be about more than that. You weren't even really at the show. Your eyes looked so empty, it looked like you could barely move. I don't understand why. You seemed good before, the meet and greet went super well. It's like a switch in you goes off, I don't get it."
"Well, I don't really get it either," I admit. My heart is beating so fast by Mike's confrontation. I almost feel cornered, like I have to tell him what's going on now. I know I need to, I even want to - it's hard dealing with it alone. "I... Remember when I told you about what happened to me? How I didn't know if it all ended when it did?"
"Yeah, of course," He says softly and takes both my hands in his.
"I... He... It just... I don't know..." I struggle to speak, the words don't want to come out, but the tears in my eyes do. "He's been... I didn't really realize until recently that... I don't know. I'm so sorry."
"Please don't cry, I'm sorry," Mike pulls me into his chest again. "I'm sorry for pushing, you don't need to tell me until you're ready. It's just been so hard watching you suffer and not knowing how to help or support you."
"It's not your fault Mike, I'm sorry," I can't help apologizing again. It just seems like the right thing to say.
"It kind of is, I unloaded a lot of my thoughts on you," He argued, I shake my head.
"I know it's because you care. I love you so much, Mike," I hug him tightly, which he returns.
"I love you too... I really do."
