Keep Yourself Alive - Roger Taylor

8

We were still in Glasgow, and this was the last show before I would have to go home and face the wrath of my father. Not only had I forgotten about my work, but I had also travelled across the country without telling with a group of lads. It doesn't look to good for me.

I sipped at the lemonade that almost reached the rim of my glass. I decided on lemonade as it looked like I was drinking, however I really didn't want to deal with the consequent hangover in the morning. Also, not drinking is a good way to stop smoking, as when I drink I always crave a cigarette to go along with it.

I sauntered over to the stage, where the four boys were setting up for their final performance. Jumping up onto the platform, John held his arm out to stabilise me.

"Gosh Rose, you nearly went flying back off then" He smiled politely, and patted me on the back.

They were all tuning their guitars or prepping their kit. Roger in particular was making sure that his drum sticks were all in the right place in case he threw one or one snapped.

"Good luck lads, I'll be watching from the back like always" I smiled.

"Darling you must get in the action at some point, get in the crowd and dance a little" Freddie argued, patting my back gently.

"But I won't have my dance partner there to guide me now will I, Fred?" I joked, and he twirled me around, letting me go as he spun me out.

I tripped over and went flying into Deacy, who luckily managed to stabilise me again.

"This is what I mean" I chuckled as John nudged me jokingly.

"Well, have a drink for me will you? I'm gagging for a beer but the lads have banned me for the night" Roger groaned, stretching his arms around his head showing off his impressive muscles.

"And why is that?" I asked, looking around the band.

"Because last night I found him lying on the floor of my flat in his boxers. May I add that this was on the cold tiles" Brian shook his head.

Just the thought of Roger Taylor in his boxers made my stomach twirl, but I suppose that would be the same with any girl that ever laid eyes on the blond.

"Well then I don't see the problem with that at all, lay off" I warned in a motherly manner and he just held his arms up in defeat.

"Well good luck, break a leg whatever" I shrugged and Freddie kissed my cheek.

I gave them all a hug before jumping back down, my boot heels clicking on the floor. With my lemonade in hand I watched the show. The crowd was getting larger now, so I went to the bar and sat on a stool to get the best view of the band.

The way they interact with the crowd in such a small room is amazing, and they truly are sensational.

A few guys sent me winks or came up to me, but I'd tell them to "bugger off" because I was "watching my boyfriend". John was the one that told me to do it, as he'd noticed a few more rough guys approaching me on this tour and he wanted me to be safe. So for the duration of this tour John Deacon is my fake boyfriend.

They all sent me the occasional wink or smirk if they caught my eye, and I sometimes even caught Mary waving at me from backstage. I preferred to be out front, as that's where I've been since the start of the band after all. I don't think it would produce the same effect if I couldn't see the whole band perform in front of my eyes.

Suddenly, a guy sat on the barstool next to me and ordered a whisky or some kind of vile spirit that had a pungent scent.

"Hey, darling" He leaned closer to me. He wasn't drunk I could tell, but his breath stunk of alcohol.

I gazed over at John who just nodded, mentally ordering me to tell him about the boyfriend thing.

"I have a boyfriend" I said in a monotone voice, leaning away from the stench of booze on his breath.

"Aw I guess I'll just have to go then" He said, sarcasm laced into every syllable.

"Really, you should" I nodded.

I looked back at the band, but they were all engrossed in their solos by this point that they didn't notice.

I had to create a diversion, something that could make him leave without being too forceful.

I placed my glass on the counter and leaned over to check my bag for anything I could use. I noticed a pad, and realised that I could probably just excuse myself to the bathroom and join Mary backstage. However, my plan failed as I felt his hand on my bare thigh, rubbing it upwards.

"No, seriously stop it now" I scowled.

He put his arms up in defeat and slouched back onto the bar. I grabbed my drink and downed it quickly, hoping it could get me away faster.

I began to walk away, but his hand found my wrist and he pulled me back. Suddenly it hit me, and everything started moving incredibly slowly. It was like a hammer had just been smashed against my head all of a sudden, and I began to feel drowsy.

Well. I hadn't drank alcohol, I'm not allergic to lemonade, and I never left my drink anywhere.

Wait... I left it on the side when I was looking through my bag. He spiked my drink, the bastard.

I managed to push myself off him, but I didn't realise that this is what he wanted. He wanted me to go to the bathroom so he could pull me out of the emergency exit and take me somewhere.

I staggered through the crowd and by this point I think that Freddie had seen me, but my head was spinning so quickly that I couldn't be sure. I reached a wall, and I threw my hand against it and bent over, trying to regain my sight.

However I was too late, and the bastard held my waist and pinned me against the wall. I was almost gone by this point, and was like a living rag doll in his strong tattooed arms. I could tell that he was a lot older than me, just by his stature and clothing, but that didn't matter now.

I couldn't see clearly, but I could feel everything. He lips met my neck roughly and my head was resting back against the wall as though I was a corpse. His roaming hands felt my arse under my skirt and that's when he lifted my arm over his shoulder and began to drag me out.

Luckily, I hit the floor suddenly with a thud, which meant that he had dropped me. Some of my vision had regained, and I saw John looking at me sympathetically before helping me up with Freddie.

Roger was already on top of the guy, and Brian was desperately trying to pry him away.

"You're okay now, darling. He's not going to hurt you" Freddie whispered in my ear, kissing my temple.

My heart was skipping beats out of fear as everything went in slow motion around me. It felt like he was still on me, grabbing my waist as I struggled under his grip.

Roger was winning the battle as he threw what seemed like hundreds of punches into the guys face. Luckily, Brian managed to drag him off from the guy and he scrambled away in agony.

All I could do was stare, as the security guards dragged him from the bar and held back the group of fans that swarmed to spectate the scene.

My head was still spinning and my neck and wrists were now covered in tender bruises that peppered my skin.

The last thing I saw was the blurred image of Roger Taylor and Brian May staring worriedly into my eyes, before everyone fizzled out into blackness.