Le Parole Lontane (Distant Words)

Chapter 16 - Misunderstood

Note: This chapter is unedited.

"It is clear to me now that, owing to my unbounded vanity and to the high standard I set for myself, I often looked at myself with furious discontent, which verged on loathing, and so I inwardly attributed the same feeling to everyone."
— Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from Underground

Vilnius, Lithuania, 7th of June 2022

I'm bathed in my own sweat and tears as I leave the stage. The crowd is still screaming in the background its chaotic chant — a requiem to our own presence that they now lost.

My fingers are instinctively going to my eyes, trying to wipe away all the wetness on my face with the sleeve of my sweater. The time is passing and, with every second, the pain is making its presence felt in my overly exhausted body.

I don't see the boys anywhere around me in the backstage. Only Damiano's thick Roman accent reverberates through the small area. By the sounds, he's probably having an argument with our management team.

"We're not going on like this," he yells, but I can't focus on his words anymore.

I take a seat on one of the large trunks used to transport our instruments, in a desperate attempt to calm down the avalanche of pain that's taking over my body. I'm not even sure why I feel so terrible.

The show today didn't seem bad at all. I even did a bit of crowd-surfing without any incident. Not even a single sign indicating me that my body is going to collapse so fast after the gig.

"Guys!" I gather all my strength to call for them. "Guys! Is anyone here?"

Usually, there's always someone around us, but not now. Apparently, Damiano's breakdown managed to take everyone's attention.

"Thomas? Ethan?" I try my luck again, but I'm barely audible even for myself. I'm not sure if there's a way I can reach out to them as I left my phone in the dressing room before the concert started. 

My head feels heavy and my body metamorphoses into a foreign entity filled with pain. I can't control any of my muscles, nonetheless I feel them hurting to a point that all my screams are mute.

"Where's Vic?" I hear someone in the moment when I collapse on the floor. "She's not in her dressing room."

I wish I could say that I'm here, but my lips are unable to move. And I feel sorry for them that they have to look for me now, but I can't help it. Being sick and trying to do everything doesn't always work. What am I even saying here? It's not like I'm struggling to have a normal life. I'm counting the days to my funeral while living one of the most chaotic types of life.

"Victoria, where are you?" Damiano's voice is filled with fear of the unknown. The same fear with which he has called me so many times during my self-harming episodes.

"Vic?" I hear Thomas too.

I have to continue to live this life for them because I can't abandon three innocent souls who put their trust in me a few years ago when we founded the band. The idea of seeing them alone without their compass frightens me worse than any nightmare that I've ever had.

"I think she fainted somewhere." Ethan, the voice of wisdom, tells them.

I'm not fainted, but he's not completely wrong either. I'm in a state in which I prefer I'd be dead by now. But I can't. Selfishness isn't something that I'm practicing anymore. There's no place for that or for anything that might make my little family suffer even more.