Cheer-Stained: One Week In Westbridge

1: Get Freak To Where You Once Belonged

"Libby?"

The loudest sound you can ever hear is your own blood, pumping behind your ears when your adrenaline is at its peak, when nausea and dizziness are assaulting the rest of your system. Why? It blocks out all other sensory input, and if you let it happen long enough, it's all you can think about - that gallon plus of fluid in constant motion, that never stops churning, careening through thousands of miles of veins and arteries...

"Libby, come on!"

I opened my eyes, and everything was shaking, because my whole body was shaking; my hands wouldn't stop. Desperately, I tried to take deeper breaths, but they just made me want to cry... and I couldn't do that now. No, I could cry later if I still wanted to, but now was the time to be strong, to take this daunting task and tell it-

"Dammit, Libbs-"

"Shut the hell up!" I screamed through the door. "Keep your pants on, I'll be out in a minute."

Just one glance in the mirror before I left my sanctuary; did I smear my make-up? No... good. My hair was hideous, but that was the idea, right? Yes, my hair had to be as revolting and off-putting as it could be, just like all the leather, because that was "cool". It was what they wanted.

One more shaky breath...

"Finally!" Adymm said, a sigh of relief passing through his sparkling blue lips as I stepped out into the light. A warm, strong hand snaked around me, squeezing my shoulder. "You okay?"

"Fine," I hissed, closing the bathroom door. "Just... just another panic attack, I guess."

"But you've done this before," he whispered as we headed around the corner. "You're always great."

"Yeah, but this is... different."

He nodded. "I guess it kinda is, but you'll still be great. Let's knock 'em dead."

And then there was no more time to think.

"Are you ready to rock, Westbridge?!"

The packed coffee house erupted; I didn't think this small a venue could be so full. "We're In Absinthia," I went on, grasping the microphone as I brushed a strand of (temporarily) purple hair out of my face, "and we hope you enjoy."

Without waiting for my knees to buckle, Milnot launched into the opening drum riff of "Call Waiting". I used my temporary respite between then and the start of the first verse to draw in as much oxygen as I could; I wasn't ready to do this, not here. But I knew I must, and onward through the set I went.

Two songs down. Three. The crowd was digging it; people weren't so wrapped up in our sound that they didn't get up for coffee refills, but they all cheered and clapped, and a couple guys in the back whistled every time I leaned forward (I knew I should've worn the turtleneck instead of the tank top). Hey, if it sells...

Finally, we had played through the eight song set we were billed to do, and to be honest, the sensation it brought me was most definitely "relief". "Thanks for the laughs, Westbridge - see you soon!"

As we headed for the coffee bar and the next band on the night's roster set up, Adymm rubbed my shoulders. "See, what were you worried about? You kicked some major ass!"

I rolled my eyes, trying not to smile. "Yeah, yeah... stop trying to butter me up for bedroom favours."

"That was our best gig yet," T.Q. sighed as he leaned against the counter. "They ate it up!"

"Lucky thing they didn't notice how you butchered 'Fascination Street'," Greg muttered tiredly, proceeding to take out a pack of Camels. "Or were you playing a different song, perhaps?"