A Good Day to Remember (unedited)

Chapter Two - September 15th, 2018 - Sebastien

"Stop fucking everything up!" Mollie yells, running her fingers through her hair, before grabbing it and pulling. "You're an asshole. Just--"

"Shut the fuck up!"

We've been fighting for about ten minutes because her style of music is not Dreams of the Dead style music and she's writing the new music. Like it's good, but it's not Dreams of the Dead, and it's really pissing me off.

"Guys, calm down." Jasper comments, stepping between me and her.

"He's an asshole. I can't believe I agreed to help you guys. Oh, my God!" Mollie walks out. We're at Jordan and Jasper's house. Band practice alternates from the Heather house and Blake's house to help their parents deal with the crazy music we play.

Dreams of the Dead is a melodic death metal band and what Mollie plays is like technically pop, but she would hate to call it that. I've listened to her music and I've listened to the musicians that inspired her music and it's technically pop.

"Mollie, come with me." Jasper pulls her out of the room and I sit down on a stool and bury my face in my hands. She's so frustrating.

Maybe a second chance is not a good idea.

I can see them through the window. She's crying now.

The way that Jordan and Jasper's house works is we practice in the basement, which is Jasper's room. It's a separate apartment-type thing, so he has a sliding glass door as an entrance. That's how I can see them.

Fuck. I made her-- no. I didn't make her cry. I swear it's not my fault. I couldn't have made her cry. The most I did was tell her to shut up. I didn't call her anything. She called me an asshole, but I didn't call her anything.

She's wearing short shorts and I don't know how I didn't notice this before, but there are stripes on her legs. Fuck. She broke. She relapsed.

I don't know how I didn't notice before. It's bad. They're bad. If I can see them from a distance, then they've got to be pretty bad. This isn't good.

And then Jasper's pulling her into a hug as she starts to fall to her knees. He's holding her up, the way I used to. And she's sobbing.

I feel guilt. I don't think I did anything, but it might just be exposure. I know she has issues being around me. Maybe it's been too much for her because I know she was getting better.

"Blake," I begin, turning to Blake, who's sitting at the drumset, "is that my fault?"

"What do you mean?"

"You saw Mollie's legs, right? Is that my fault? Did I cause her to hurt herself again? Please tell me I didn't do anything."

"No. She called me last night because she went to 'Riverside', she does that when she's upset but she didn't say why she was upset, and some people that reminded her of James-- or whatever the fuck that asshat from the coast's name is-- showed up and started catcalling her and harassing her and she ignored them but she was scared and she-- you didn't do anything."

"Okay."

Fuck. I didn't directly do anything, probably. Unless I was the reason she was upset and went to "Riverside" in the first place.

We've been texting, sometimes. We started a streak up on Snapchat and sometimes we have actual conversations, but we had a fight yesterday. She mentioned something about one of her songs and it brought back memories.

I tried to argue that what she mentioned in a song was wrong, but I knew she was right.

It was a stupid thing to argue over, but the song was about me, and I didn't want to tell her that she's right. I didn't want to admit that I was wrong.