Sincerely, Mike

PROLOGUE

~
"MIKE!" Trè screeched through the phone, the absolute horror that coated his voice unmistakable, "MIKE, YOU NEED TO COME TO BILLIE'S HOTEL ROOM NOW!"

His heart suddenly beginning to race at a million miles an hour at the mere thought of everything that could have possibly gone wrong, Mike swallowed hard, asking in a trembling voice, "W-why...wh...what's go-"

"MIKE, HE TRIED TO HANG HIMSELF!"
~

Mike jolted awake with a scream, his chest heaving as his eyes darted around the room in a frenzy.

"WHERE IS HE?" he shouted at no one in particular. "WHERE'S BILLIE?"

"The hospital," his wife responded softly from across the room, her eyes swollen and puffy from crying. "Same place he was two hours ago, Mike."

Upon receiving the answer he had wanted the least to hear, Mike sighed and hung his head as his heart cracked just a bit more within his chest.

So it hadn't all been a dream.

It had all been very real.

He exhaled sharply and turned his head to look at his wife with sad blue eyes. In doing so he noticed that Trè, eyes reddened and face puffy, was seated next to her on the edge of the couch with Billie's blissfully oblivious year-old son fast asleep on his chest.

He looked between the two people seated on the couch across the room, his eyes desperately imploring them for some sort of condolence.

Seeming to understand Mike's desperation, Trè shifted uneasily and turned towards him, saying in a coarse whisper, "We, uh...we decided that I'm gonna take him."

Mike nodded thoughtfully, immediately understanding that Trè was referring to the innocent child asleep on his chest.

"At least until further notice."

Mike nodded again, lifting his tired eyes up towards Trè's in acknowledgement.

"I...I think it's better that way," Britt added, "We have our own kids to worry about...I didn't want to put the additional stress of a baby on you, Mike. Especially not now."

Mike could only stare on as his heart sunk in his chest.

"Take good care of him, Trè," he said in a broken whisper. "That's all Billie wanted..."

Trè's eyes darted towards the floor as the words left Mike's lips.

"I'll try."

The words hung in the air and stayed there, instigating a dead sort of silence.

An enormous lump forming in his throat, Mike slumped back into the mattress, rolling over and away from Trè and Britt.

He hated the silence. He hated the screams that continued to reverberate within the walls of his mind. He hated himself for letting it come to this.

As he settled into the mattress and receded into the depths of his mind, he couldn't help but feel indirect responsibility for everything that had happened.

He knew that they shouldn't have played that event, no matter how fervently Billie had insisted that he was in perfect condition to play. He had been too sick, too depressed, too blatantly suicidal and utterly ruined by the lethal agent his very existence had come to revolve around in the days leading up to their performance at the IHeartRadio Festival to play.

Mike had known that. He had seen it with his own two eyes and experienced it first-hand. But despite his initial opposition to the idea of proceeding with the original plans of playing the event for obvious reasons, he had let Billie convince him that he was well enough to play the show.