Desperate Lies

Chapter 1

Hi, again.

I'm sure you guys are getting sick of these letters - or maybe you aren't because I always include the gift cards? I figure it must be hard to be a touring band and having to figure out how to budget food, gas, and so on, so I hope that these help you guys out a little bit. I also just hope that it gives you guys some assurance that not everyone in Scranton hates you. I was actually able to hear a little bit of your set from outside this time - you guys are really good! Maybe one day I'll get to see you guys in person . It's probably about time after five years, huh? I just hate to think of what would happen if I got caught...But I can dream, right?

I also just feel the need to warn you guys that my dad is going to keep trying to rally up bigger and bigger crowds to gang up against you. Which just doesn't make sense, because you guys seem like such good people. I've talked to a few people at school (I'm an art student) who have seen you perform/met you, and they've all said nothing but good things about you. I just don't understand where my dad is coming from...Well, actually, I do, but his point of view is just insane! He thinks you're Satanic (obviously) and that you're "poisoning the youth of our town and country". And he's started bringing together protests for other performers that come out here too. Pretty soon, NO ONE is going to want to play in Scranton anymore, and it'll all be his fault. As an (aspiring) artist myself, I wish there was something I could do to stop this from happening...

I wish I had ANY authority over anything in this situation.

I'm so sorry that stealing money to put on a Visa gift card is all I can do to help. Not that the money that I'm "stealing" would've gone toward anything good anyway. My dad literally takes the money that we get from tithes/offerings every Sunday and puts SOME of it towards paying bills, keeping the lights on at the church, which I guess is understandable - but you know where the rest of it goes to? His drinking problem. So THAT is the money that I steal, and then when I'm not giving bands Visa cards, I'm giving the money to homeless people and charities; y'know, like churches are SUPPOSED to do.

Sorry, I'm just venting at this rate. I wouldn't even be surprised if you'd stopped reading by now. Maybe I'll just stop writing letters but keep giving you guys the gift cards. I want to be as much help as I CAN be without getting caught.

Anyway...I hope you all have a good and safe rest of your tour, and I'm sorry that this has happened again. I keep hoping that every letter I write will be my last, and that one day these protests will stop...but I honestly can't promise that they will. There's a very good chance that this will happen again, unfortunately...

So, with that, until next time,

- Eve

Chris sighs. He stands from where he's sitting on the bus and heads toward the door.

"Where you going?" Ricky asks.

"Just stepping out for a sec; we're not leaving for a few more minutes anyway."

Chris steps out of the bus. A majority of the protesters were still standing outside of the building they'd just performed in. Jim, the same security guard who had worked this and various other venues in Scranton that Motionless in White had performed in, was standing near the bus to make sure that the protesters couldn't try to get near - or worse, in - the bus. He spots Chris, then walks over to him.

"Everything okay?"

"Do you have any more information on this Eve?" Chris asks, "It's been five years that she's been writing us these letters and none of us have ever seen her face to thank her in person."

"Well, that's because she's putting herself at extreme risk to give the letters to you alone, much less talk to you."

"Then I want to tell her she doesn't have to put herself at risk for us."