Die In California

11

Rook's POV:

Something wasn't quite right, but I couldn't put my finger on it. It was Devyn - I'd narrowed it down to that. Something didn't seem right with her, and I could only guess that it was something to do with her mental health. Maybe those voices she often talked about, maybe they were worse than usual. Maybe she missed Toledo. Or maybe Cleveland really wasn't right for her. But I had a feeling she wouldn't willingly tell me.

Soundcheck for the show in Denver didn't exactly go well. My head was elsewhere. I didn't lose myself in the drums like usual, which resulted in me messing up more times in one soundcheck than in the last few years. The guys glared at me, biting their tongues to avoid yelling at me - probably since everything was still so new with Devyn. I closed my eyes, and tried my hardest to let the music consume me, but it just wasn't working. Maybe I was trying too hard?

After soundcheck, I went out the back for a smoke, sitting on the edge of the pavement with my arm across the top of my knees, my chin resting on my forearm. I sat and stared into the distance, lost in the thoughts that I was smoking to get away from. But they wouldn't stop. "Hey, man." Slim quietly spoke as he sat beside me, gently nudging his shoulder against mine. I nodded to acknowledge him, but continued staring in silence, making him sigh in exasperation.

"Look, I know that everything with Devyn is taking a toll on you, I can see it. It's fucking you up. But you just gotta give it time." He softly spoke, reaching over to gently squeeze my shoulder. "It'll get better eventually. She just needs to figure shit out. And when she's ready, she'll be there for you, like you're there for her. When she's ready, things should go back to normal. We just need to wait for her."

"Thanks man." I sighed, leaning my head against his shoulder as I closed my eyes and inhaled more smoke, wishing for my brain to just shut off for once. "I guess I just really miss how we used to be. I don't quite understand what she's going through, because I've never seen it for myself, and now I just- I'm just impatient I guess." I admitted with a dry laugh, finding nothing humorous about how I felt.
"It'll take time. But we can all pull through." Slim promised.

We sat outside for about 20 minutes longer, before we heard commotion from inside. Yelling, crying, things breaking. Frowning, I looked over my shoulder to see people walking out of our dressing room, looking around, panicking. Without a word between us, Slim and I stood up and rushed inside to see what was going on. That was when I heard the sobbing. Clear as day.

I burst through the door, and what I found broke my heart. The dressing room was now in a state - not uncommon for us, but not in the same way. Mirrors and beer bottles were shattered, shards scattered across the floor, and an acoustic guitar was lying on the floor broken. The neck of the guitar was snapped off, the strings flailing around since the bridge had been pulled off, and the body of the guitar had been broken into pieces. Then there was Devyn.

She was curled up in the middle of the mess, her knees to her chest and her arms around her shins, lightly rocking in place. Her brown hair was wild, all knotted like a bird's nest - probably from running her hands through it so much, and tugging on it. Tears were rolling down her puffy red cheeks in a steady stream, her eyes red raw - just like the scratches on her cheeks and the cuts on her knuckles. She was shaking uncontrollably, sobbing into her knees while occasionally quietly mumbling to herself. She was broken.

"Devyn? What's happened?" I rushed to her side, crouching beside her and placing a hand on her back. I didn't think. She startled, instantly ducking away from me, turning to slap my cheek. It fucking stung. Everyone in the room froze - time included - and silence fell upon us. I blinked and turned my head to look at her, seeing her frozen on the spot, her blue eyes wide in shock. She didn't expect that either.