All Apologies

Chapter One

The bright lights were blinding. The audience was screaming. As Quincy finished his solo, he stared off into the audience as his final note rung out. All these people screamed his name, cheering for him and begging him to play one last song. Women jumped and called his name while their boyfriends stood and listened to that one last note, both ignoring each other in his presence.

Sweat was dripping down his face and chest. He was panting like a dog in the heat of the stage lights. As his final note faded, he took a bow, smiling wider than he ever had before and blowing kisses into the audience. He straightened himself up and raised a hand to rest on the mic.

"Thank you.. Thank you all for being here tonight.." He said between restless breaths. "I'd like to play one last song for you". The audience cheered and shouted positivity at him. Anyone could tell they would stay there forever if they could, but all good things must come to an end.

"This one's called.. Actually no, I'll let you guess." Quincy smirked at the audience before raising his guitar pick in the air, taking one big breath and-

All good things came to an end.

+°+°+°+°+°+°+°+°+°+°+°+°

"Quincy Howland!" His mother came stumbling into his room, " turn that -hic- ..shit down before your dad -hic- ..lobs it out the fuckin' window!" Her words were slurred and she couldn't stand straight.

Quincy stood there, pick in hand and guitar mid-song. He glared furiously at his mother (if you could even call her that) and stood deathly still. She stood there with her mouth slightly open like a fish, though she didn't seem to realize it. She just stood there hiccuping dopily.

She was drunk. Again. This was standard for her though, there were more times she was drunk than when she wasn't. She had developed her addiction just after Quincy was born. She couldn't take care of him properly, especially without the father around, so she stole her parent's vodka and just kept drinking and drinking. They were too soft on her so they didn't try to pry away the alcohol, but instead were in denial about her addiction. Now she was 32 and still addicted, despite being sent to rehab and faking it to get out. Twice.

"Margot! Get over here!" Leroy wasn't any nicer. In fact, he was a total asshole. Blamed everything on the fact that he went to the army and everything was drilled into him so hard that he couldn't change. The only one who bought his bullshit was Margot , and that's why they were dating. That's also why Leroy stuck around, because she clung onto him like fucking glue.

"Coming-" Quincy's mother shouted back through their small home, interrupting herself with another hiccup.

Quincy sighed. A day in his house was never easy, but his gut was telling him today might be worse, and that meant he had to pick up all his valuables before Leroy really did lob it out the fucking window. Leroy wasn't even his biological dad, though Margot still insisted on calling him Quincy's dad.

Then again, anyone can be a dad. Anyone can stick their cock in a woman and get her pregnant. Only real men, only ones that weren't assholes to their kids, could ever be considered fathers. A father was a good parent that took care of his children. A father loved his kids. A dad was there because he wanted the money from child support. A dad didn't really know his kids and would rather drop them at any time he could.

Quincy unplugged his guitar and shuffled the amp under his bed. He put his guitar in the case and zipped it closed, sliding it carefully under his bed next to the amp. If his parents came into his room and started throwing stuff, at least it wouldn't be his favourite items in the room.

He started to hear muffled voices coming from the living room. Quincy pressed his ear to the door and listened carefully. It was basically the same as usual, until he heard his own name.

"If that Quincy doesn't stop blasting his bullshit, he won't fucking have it anymore. I'm trying to do something here, so tell your kid to pack it in."

"I just -hic- ..did. Do you hear any -hic-..thing?" His mother mocked him quite mouthily , but that often happened when she wasn't sober.

"Don't fucking talk to me like that! I'll fucking punch you in the throat if you ever dare to speak to me like shit!" Leroy was raising his voice more than usual, and that meant Hell was about to break loose.

"So fucking -hic- ..sue me!" Margot crossed her arms over her chest and slumped against the sickly cream-coloured wall, "I was only bloody saying! -" she interrupted herself with yet another hiccup and Leroy stood up tall.

"You better watch your fucking mouth, Margot." He replied through gritted teeth. His fists were balled at his sides, his cheeks and neck got increasingly red with rage and if this was a cartoon he'd probably have steam from his ears too.

This isn't a cartoon though. Leroy was very capable of harming Margot to the point of immobility and a punch from him definitely wouldn't leave a small red bump on her head and the will to fight.

Nonetheless, Margot got the point and backed down. She unfolded her arms and timidly muttered something under her breath. She averted her eyes down and showed Leroy total submission, which he seemed happy enough with.

He sat back down and out of the blue, started blaming it on Quincy. "You're always so stressed and turn to alcohol, Margot. It's that Quincy, ain't it? He's giving you trouble. That fucking guitar better be gone by the end of the week or I'm sending him away, to any fucking place that'll take 'im. He's hanging around fucking fags, that's what. Those boys'll fucking corrupt 'im, I'm telling you, Margot."

"Gosh Leroy.. -hic-.. I don't know about all that.." She trembled, still looking down to the floor.

"Well fucking know about it! They're getting in his head! You know I'm only trying to help, Margot."

" 'course, Leroy.. "

"You don't believe me. Fine, don't. No one else fucking does. You'll be comin' and cryin' to me later about it, and I'll have nothing to fucking say to you." He finished his rant and slouched like a sulking toddler on the sofa. Margot stayed put, she didn't dare move until she was sure he was over it.

Quincy flinched with every word being said. Guitar gone by the end of the week? Sending him away? Hanging around fags? Corrupt? Help? What the fuck! He got an overwhelming sense of dread, like there was a massive pit in his stomach and his insides were emptying into it. His mouth went dry and he got cold sweats all over his body. He couldn't sit still, his hands shook like he was in freezing temperatures in his underwear.

Quincy didn't know what was happening to him, it felt like the walls around him were about to crash down on him. Whatever it was, it felt like he was going to suffocate. He needed fresh air.

Quincy unlocked his window and opened it fully, just managing to slide out despite his shaking body. He didn't take a jacket or anything else to keep himself warm, he just needed to get out of there.