The music was too loud to hear anything. But that's the way it was supposed to be. It was the time you could totally break away from everyone and finally have an excuse not to talk to people.
Brent always felt the exact opposite though, because he was interacting. He was interacting with 10,000 people at once.
He connected with everyone through the sweet melody of his music. You could see it in his face as he sang, you could tell he was passionate about it. It was his life, to put it lightly. The love of his life was most definitely not the hot chick down the street, it was the stage.
A terrible way to die, on a stage while everyone watches. But there's something bitter sweet about it.
The fact that he was doing what he loved most when he died? It's how I would want to die.
*
All the lights dimmed and Brent smiled to himself as he stepped up onto the platform in the middle of the stage. He took a deep breath and began to sing his song, Call Me. It was most definitely an emotional and special one, especially to Brent.
The whole place was silent but the void was filled with the thousands of phone flashlights waving back and forth along with the sound of his voice.
And as he got to the chorus, a man jumped up onto the stage and everything suddenly seemed to be in slow motion from there. Brent hadn't even realized he was there until well after he was pointing the gun at him.
And that's when everyone gasped and began running towards the exits. Some stayed, videotaped it even.
But by the time security got there. Brent was laying in his own blood, half his face missing, and a microphone in his limp hand.
