“The amount of pills I’m taking, counteracts the booze I’m drinking”
The sweat clings to my body like I’ll cling to the bottle of alcohol that will soon meet my hands. In a daze I slump of the bunk of the bus, landing to the ground with a hard thud. You stir, I slide into the darkness. The corners of my lips curl up into a sickening smile. I knew what was waiting for me, and there was no one to fucking stop me this time. Mikey, Ray and Bob were all out doing…well God knows what to be honest. You were on ‘duty’ to stay with me on the bus, to make sure I stayed safe. What was I to them? Some fucking undomesticated animal? Most likely. I used to be the adored front man of this band, now my friend’s and my own brother acted like some cold hearted, sterile, son-of-a-bitch AA workers. Well, you get what you give, right?
I stumble into the small area by the fridge, crashing into every goddamn inanimate object in this fucking country it seemed like. You stir in your sleep again. Just keep stirring, Frankie…don’t pay attention to ol’ Gerard. I whip open the fridge, the light blinding my sleep deprived eyes casing me to turn away for a brief moment. Besides for the dim light of the fridge, it was fucking dark on this shitty ass tour bus. Darker than the bile that seemed to pour from my throat every time I scream for help…but you never fucking come to my aid. The amount of times that I would wake from night terrors, crying out into the darkness until my own weakness suffocated me back into a cold slumber. You just slept. With a sadistic, sloppy grin, I reach in the fridge, grabbing the only thing that seems to comfort me anymore: alcohol.
Alcohol was cold, bitter and vile. It would slide down my throat, choking me from the outside in. But that’s okay. I’m not allowed to end my own life…but no one said alcohol wasn’t allowed to do it for me. I bring my hand up to my lips, stifling my “slightly off” chuckle. It poured out of my lips way too fast, colliding with the darkness that was filled with silence. You stir in your sleep once more, mumbling something that might resemble my name or some shit like that. It didn’t seem to bother you that I was literally clinging to a bottle of literal poison that could, and would, kill me. But no, you just keep dreaming on, Frank.
I tremble closer to the door, slowly opening it, finding an empty parking lot only full of lights and empty promises. I slide out of the bus, holding that same sick smile as soon as my feet hit the ground. I had to find a spot to sit and get “shit faced” as so many people called it. I literally hated that term, it sounded so vile and childish. I found a place close to the bus, literally just three steeps from the entrance. I didn’t have a clear mind to find a logical spot. I needed to get this shit down my throat, the quicker, the better. I sit myself down, resting my head against part of the bus that was lower to the ground. I survey the area, there was already some broken glass in the near distance. I wonder if that was from me. I don’t even remember, honestly. I reach into my pocket, pulling out a small baggie that held the alcohol’s best friends: pills.
These pills were nothing special, just your average old Xanax. But when combined with alcohol, these two put up one hell of a show! Come one, come all to this tragic affair. My shaking hands tear at the bag, letting the pills fall into my opposing hand.
“F-fucking perfect” I slur out. I clench the pills with one shaky hand, trying to open the large bottle of alcohol with the other. After what seems like an eternity, they are both ready, ready to do their assigned duties. I take a small swig of the dark poison, letting it coat my throat with some liquid so the medication wouldn’t go down completely dry, that would most likely hurt. Then I count to three:
“O-one”
I bring my pill-popping fingers closer to my lips, squeezing the bottle tighter.
“T-two”
The medication is now resting on my lips, the bottle brought even closer to my face. The smell was strong, causing my eyes to water. My heart was racing, my palms were sweaty, my body was shaking.
“Th-!
“Gerard-! Don’t!” I jump out of my skin as I hear the bus door slam open, you shouting out your plea. You must have been running on pure adrenaline because you had the alcohol whipped across the parking lot and the pills crushed to a white powder under the soles of your shoes faster than I could cry out your name.
“F-frank, I-I” You shut me up by waving you hand in the air, dismissing my actions.
“Gerard, I don’t need your excuses and shit right now. Now come on, let’s go back on the bus.” You extend your tattooed hand out in front of my cringing body. I must have looked terrified because your face lightened. You almost look sad, in a sense. I don’t understand why, this isn’t the first time that I’ve done this. With a sigh of defeat, I take your hand, rather tightly. You help me to a stand, brushing the dirt and stuff on my body, which I didn’t even know I had. I look at you with a look of utter defeat, you just smile sadly. You rest your hand on my shoulder, uttering something that sounded like “let’s go Gerard.” But, I hold my ground, looking directly into your eyes:
“I’ll get better.” I slur out. You look at me like your heart was just ripped out of your body, torn apart, and then stepped on a million more times.
“But Gerard…” You throw your arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug, so much that you could probably feel my own heart beating against your chest.
“That’s what you said last time.”
