Storyteller

Chapter 7

Tim POV:

We've been out of the hospital for about a month now. Faith is her normal self, and as bubbly as can be. I don't know how she's doing it all. I can't even breathe without being reminded.

I watched her die. She actually died in my arms... How am I supposed to get over that?

So, I'm drinking before my show tonight. This is not only my first show since the whole abuse scandal, but the first time I've performed since the accident and surgery. I don't know if my lungs can handle two hours of belting it out, even though the doctors seem fairly sure.

Faith's said to be coming to watch, but I doubt she'll actually make a public appearance. She's still hesitant about how the media sees her after all of this. I understand, but she can't hide forever.

I'm currently wasted, having drank way more than I had intentionally planned. So I hope Faith doesn't come. She'd be pissed if she saw me like this. My manager is already giving me hell about it, because he thinks people will notice. I can fake it enough for them to believe that I'm sober.

So, now as I stumble onto the stage, my sight is becoming a little screwy. I can still sing the lyrics just fine, if not better than I have before, but it's hard to focus. My mind is scattered, as I try to perform. I feel my feet dragging across the stage as I slowly move around. I look back to the side stage to see someone coming out toward me. I can't make out who it is, until they get right up next to me.

My manager grabs my arm and pulls me backstage hastily. He throws me down on the couch in my dressing room, before screaming at me at the top of his lungs. He's angry, but I couldn't care less. I'm completely numb.

Faith walks in carefully, causing my manager to pause his tirade. She tucks her hair behind her ear, a motion that never fails to drive me wild. She looks stunning, in a grey sweater, skinny jeans, and some knee-high boots. Her hair is curly, and her makeup is natural, making her look even more beautiful.

"May I talk to him for a moment?" She asks, her voice sounding volatile and raw. My manager sighs, and marches out of the room with frustration. I let out a little drunk laugh as I lean back into the couch. "Why are you doing this?" She spits out, surprising me. Her green eyes guilt me, as they begin to moisten up. I stare at her for a moment, trying to analyze the entire moment. I wind up shrugging, lacking any better words. "I want a divorce." she fires quietly, biting her lip.

"No." I utter, sounding as if I were about to puke.

"Why? You're not here for me or the girls. Why shouldn't I?" Tears start to slip as she stands in front of me. I feel that urge to hurt her... I've never recollected how it felt... It feels like a burning in my fingers, and nonstop pounding inside my chest. My throat grows tight, as I start to imagine threatening her, and telling her she'll never see a day that she's not by my side...

"You can't leave." I assert, sounding as if I were growling. I can see her grow tense, knowing that I'm becoming angry. I watch her slowly back up toward the door, planning her possible escape. I watch her stare grow sadder, as she knows what's coming.

"Tim, I can't do this anymore, alright? I'm done." She says, tears slipping down her cheeks. She looks exhausted as she pants nervously, continuing to step back toward the door. I shake my head, standing up a little faster than I should've, making me feel a bit light-headed.

There's a hidden lust in her eyes. I can see it. It's hidden under layers upon layers of multiple betrayals and lies, but it's there. She still loves me. She still needs me. However, there's still a thick appearance of fear in her eyes. She's afraid of me, and that feeling is much stronger than any love inside of her.