Fiction - Part 3

I

"Slit my wrists, take away the pain
Slit my throat, there's no one to blame
Lost in the fields of confusion
Restless nights, they're not far away!"

The catchy beat of the punk band played after the lyrics were growled.

It was a hot night.

Hotter than hell.

Avenged Sevenfold was playing in a small little muggy and dark bar at the time.

The air was so hot, thick and sticky you could just cut it with a butcher knife.

Everyone was sweating and everyone was crammed in front of the tiny little stage they were standing on.

"You made me this way
I am the product of your creation!"

The insane fans were punching and kicking and screaming along with the band.

Every other guy had nose bleeds or a black eye at this point.

It reeked of alcohol and drugs too.

"Sew up the hole right now
Now you turn the other way!"

The band dressed in black and sweat eventually made their exit and headed backstage.

They didn't have to clean up anything. That's what the roadies were for...

"How's your throat?" The lead guitarist, Brian, aka Synyster Gates patted the back of the famous screamer.

"Gah," Matt grunted after taking a gulp of water, "s' a bitch."

"Maybe take it easy for a few." Zacky, the rhythm guitarist packed his guitar in the case.

The singer nodded in agreement just as the door to their room swung open.

"How much did we sell?" Brian looked over his shoulder as the female sat down in the chair in the corner with an envelope.

"Let you know in a bit." She replied, clearly more focused on organizing their merch earnings.
"Hey Val," Matt closed the cap of the water bottle and walked over, "you didn't happen to sell a lot of the-"

"Look, we sold at least one of everything. It was a good day for merch. Now let me count, because I know none of you will."
"Amen." The drummer, Jimmy, raised both hands to the ceiling and back.

The door swung open again and in came their manager.

"Great show tonight, guys. Sanders," he pointed, "next time when your throats acting up take in more water. We had a few compl-"

"They can fuck off then!"

"Of course they can but-"

"I'm done here." Matt nodded as he made his decision and left the room.

"Val." Brian spoke as she nodded and followed the singer.

Walking out the back door to the bar, there he was standing under the streetlight against the dull white brick wall of the building.

"Don't you have money to organize?" Matt blew a puff of smoke.

"Yes," she sighed, "but I'm more concerned about you right now." She stuck her hands in her jean pockets and looked up at the boy.

Silence screamed between the two until he spoke.

"What if I'll never be able to scream at some point? What if my voice fucks up, Val, were getting complain-"

"Then don't scream!" She placed her hands on his face.

"Don't scream..." She repeated quietly.