Camera Shy || Ben Barlow

Eleven

So far, I hated Paris. Overall, I honestly hated France in general; nothing ever went well here. Ben had been angry for the full 24 hours that we'd been here (at what, none of us were actually sure) and it had been raining since we'd stepped of the plane. We'd all been piled into a less than fancy hotel in a less than fancy area of the city, the band split into to rooms and the crew split across four. The band, plus the guitar technician, Cara, Zach, myself and a stray sound technician had found ourselves in a pitiful games room, having set up camp in bean bag chairs surrounding a pool table. Ben had stormed out to 'go to the shop' several minutes prior.

"Do you think the rain will actually stop?" Cara asked, glumly.

"It better do. It's killing my mood," Sam groaned, tipping his head back and running a hand through his hair; it was still wet from running between the bus and the hotel, his suitcase too heavy to lift above his head as protection. 

"It killed Ben's hours ago," I muttered, checking my watch, only to discover that it had been less than a minute since I'd last taken a look. Where had he even gone? His 'twenty minute walk up the road' was turning into a fucking day trip. 

"I reckon we should play a game," Fil said, matteroffactly, a sly smile on his face, pound shop cards in hand. 

"Without Ben?" Dani reminded me of a lost child, sometimes. Sad and lonely, missing an older sibling. Inclusive. You couldn't not love Dani; he was too perfect and small, without being small at all. Fil rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure he'll live knowing we played one game without him."

"We'll play a game he hates," I said, in an effort to cheer Dani up, even slightly. Dani being upset dragged the entire group down. Happy wife, happy life? Happy Dani, happy day. "Irish snap? He always loses," I said, knowing Dani liked this one. He said it was funny when everyone forgot to slap their head for Jacks; of course, that was exactly the type of thing I'd have expected Dani to come out with.  

Fil smiled, proud to have swayed us all to do what he wanted. As he handed me my fourth card, I heard the light bulb above us crackle and, suddenly, there was glass. Everywhere. Lightening struck outside, illuminating the room for a horrifying second before everything went black.

Cara switched her iPhone torch on, setting her phone down on the pool table in the middle of the room before stepping back, slightly. I hated the awful gloomy shadows across everyone's faces; I felt like I'd stepped into a horror movie. 

"Someone call Ben," Dani said, clutching his dead phone in his hand as if his life depended on it. I nodded and smiled.

"On it," I said, as Alex, the guitar technician put on a sly grin. 

"You know there are loads of murder investigations going on in Paris, right? There's a bloke out there who targets people during storms because he knows they're vulnerable. Lads between eighteen and twenty eight, so far, I think. Lures them into bus shelters and things and stabs them. Victims are always found like completely drained, days after they died, in the middle of nowhere. Insane, right?" Lightning struck, again, the thunder making me jump. 

"One," Dani whispered, more to himself than anything, "two..." Thunder. I opened my contacts screen, scrolling through to find Ben, at first attempting to send him a quick text. It never went through, telling me I had no service. I knew trying to call him would be pointless, but I tried anyway. Nothing. 

"Signal's dead," I said, audibly frustrated. 

"I've heard he's got a thing for blonds, you know," Alex rambled on, after being completely pied the first time. "All men. What a weirdo. Normally the sick fucks go for wo-"