When You Stop Hating To Exist

NAZIPUNKSFUCKOFF

Jessie stood in front of the bar.
She had never been there before; Holly had never taken her here. It actually was not that far away from Jessie's apartment, which had significantly eased the arrival, she had walked.

The entrance to bar was a small but sturdy looking dark wooden door with a reddish glass protected by a steel frame and the sight through the windows was blocked by black paint. The loud chatter of already drunk men inside filled the silence outside that occurred when there were no cars. There was nearly no traffic, four cars had passed her since she was there, so the chatter was very prominent.

Jessie had walked here; it was a rather warm march night, because she had no car. Undoubtedly, she had thought about the possibility of Holly driving her home, of Holly attending the concert.
Holly rarely left her mind. It sucked because Jessie had other problems.
She did not want to be occupied thinking about some random woman, but she was.
When she was carried away by her thoughts, she even stopped denying that she did not like it.
Holly had all rights to be on her mind.

Eventually, Jessie had given up counting cars since there still had not passed a new one, and entered the bar. Immediately, the loudness of the chatter increased. A wave of warm wave of air filled with smoke and beer welcomed her inside.
Nobody turned around to her. She stayed still for a moment, taking in the atmosphere. The interior was more; she would call it settled, than in the venues she went to with Holly. Probably because this was a real bar while the other concerts took place either in the Hot Rod garage or in some makeshift cellar.

The bar was on her right, what would be the stage later laid in front of her. The tables were filled with young adults and middle-aged men and a lot of empty or half-full beer glasses. The thick smoke lingering in the air affected her breathing while she navigated towards the bar.

The bar men was tattooed from head to toe. He fitted in with the others. Bar-men had more muscles than the others though, his could compare to Jessie’s.
He smiled down to her. The lights reflected on his cleanly shaved head.
Jessie had an uneasy feeling about him.
Something about him was wrong.
She could not find out what made it that way.
She payed her beer immediately and walked over to the corner at the window out of which she could not look.
She could see the entire room from here and could unsuspiciously keep an eye on the door. Other than Bar-men, who was glancing over to her at any given possibility, no one seemed to see how out of place she felt. The other new arrivals were immediately greeted and sat down at tables where they would chat right away. They all knew each other and she, well, Jessie was still alone.

Jessie did not see her; usually she had seen Holly's face within minutes. However, this time, she was nowhere to be see.

It would have been a lie if she would deny the fact that she attended this concert because she wished that Holly were here. She had seen the poster promoting the concert of some unfamiliar but punk sounding name. The name fitted the scheme of bands that Holly would listen to and Jessie had hoped that she would accidentally bump into her.
She had not seen Holly yet and that was weird.
She had barely seen any women.

This crowd was different, most well trained men, their muscles decorated with black tattoos, many with a buzz cut or with accurately trimmed short hair.
They looked menacing, even to Jessie who usually was the strongest person in the room.
These men radiated an aura of uncomfortableness and disrespectfulness. Jessie wanted to leave.
Her intuition screamed at her to leave.
But she stayed.
She stayed.
She stayed because deep down, she did deny it to herself, she waited for Holly.

Jessie's eyes were always travelling through the crowd, hoping to see the familiar face.

With every new person that entered, she hoped that it would be Holly, that Holly would come over and that they would talk. Jessie imagined them going Home to Holly. She imagined what would happen if Traice would be there. And she actively avoided thinking about what she could do if Traice wouldn't be there.

The door opened again, directly attracting Jessie's attention. Another group entered the bar. Four young adults, males, something between boy and men. Somewhere between two completely different worlds.
Shaved heads like most of the others, black leather jackets, denim jeans, boots.
Wide steps contrasting the unsure expression on their faces.
Their quick eye movements, their hands hidden in pockets, their head hanging slightly and the gaze not high enough to really convey pride.
Big jackets hiding small, weak arms.
Their search for recognition and support when talking to the middle aged men.
Slightly furrowed brows and thin lips on a still boyish face.

They were more playing their role rather than being themselves.
They were trying to be someone they were not.
Nobody was telling them to let their guard down.
They behaved how the others expected it. Jessie could read them well.

She saw in their eyes what she saw every morning in hers.

The Bar-men sat them down not too far away from Jessie.
She could hear them.
They ordered a round of beer.

Jessie waved Bar-men over.
She ordered another beer too.
He did not leave.
She sat up straighter.
He looked her up and down.
He smiled again.
His eyes did not smile with him. "You've never been here."
Dhe did not react. "We don't have women here usually, unless their boyfriends bring them here. Nobody has greeted you and frankly, if your boyfriend invited you here, he dumped you."
His tone was friendly, it really was.
Jessie still felt like there was something off and se could not pinpoint it.

She looked him in his eyes and announced calmly, without missing a beat,
"I'm not here with or because of my boyfriend."
She would not give him any information freely.
He would not find out anything about her.
He nodded, too slowly, before retreating behind the bar.
Jessie watched him fill the glasses.
He gave them to the teenagers before coming over to her.
He eyed her again.
Something was off.
She still couldn't figure it out.

"I hope you will enjoy tonight's show. I'd like to see you more often here," Bar-men leaned down more than necessary. She handed him the money.
"It's on the house, darling," he winked at her.
She curled up her toes to suppress her gagging.
She would avoid this bar.

And there she was, sitting on the curb.
Between cars.
Alone.
A bottle in her hand.
A state in which Jessie would have found her inevitably.

"Holly?" She did not turn around. "Holly?"
She had heard her. She downed the rest of the bottle, the dim lightning made it unable to find out how much she had just chugged down. She placed her hands on her knees, leaning forward and slowly standing up. She turned around even with the bad lightning, Jessie saw the irritation in Holly's eyes, the unexpressive line her lips formed. The deadness of the inside completely hiding the once so happy and careless Holly.

"Whad'ya doin'ere s'late? Shoudda be home. Fuck- fucking home. Fuck-"  Her words did not reassure Jessie. "You- Saw you n' that n a z i bar. You- Fuck-" Her eyed met Jessie's, loosing their drunkness for a moment. "Fucking Nazis when I'm not good enough, fucking NAZIS!"
She threw the bottle down the street while shouting the last part, following it with her eyes. Her drunken, unexpressive face returned as soon as the bottle hit the floor and shattering into a thousand pieces. Jessie did not know that it was a nazi bar.
She shook her head.

"I didn't know-" she breathed out, not bothering to finish the sentence. It had been done and she could not fix it.
Holly had not listened.
She had already started walking.
Walking somewhere.
Trying to hide the fact that she indeed had nowhere to go.
Both women knew.

Holly could not come home like that. In this state. Traice would kill her. It was bad enough that Jessie had found her, but at least Jessie could keep her mouth shut. She could hide everything. Jessie wanted to follow Holly. She needed to. She could not leave Holly alone, now knowing she was unsafe. She needed to bring her somewhere safe. Jessie needed to bring her home. There was no other option. She could not simply walk away, ignoring Holly's state. She did not follow Holly.
She turned around and walked in the opposite direction before Holly was out of her sight.
She did not turn around.

However, she could not completely ignore Holly's state. Leaving her had impacted her more than she had anticipated.
Behind the next corner she threw up.

Jessie was not prepared for that. Her hand had instinctively steadied her against the wall. It was rough, just rough enough to hurt her palm. It was cold, as cold as the wall of a house is in the night.
It didn't matter.

She continued walking. Her bad feelings would fade away soon, like her puke would be washed away by the next rain.
Unless someone would clean it up earlier by splashing a bucket of water over it, disrupting the natural order.