Shotgun Sisters Helena

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My fingers went flying across the neck of my guitar as the lights flashed aggressively to the beat of the song. Ave's voice rose above the pulsing, screaming crowd. I made a rash movement to leap onto my amp in front of me. I stuck the landing and kept shredding but suddenly everything sounded muted. My eyes got all weird and the last thing I remember is a collaborative gasp of the audience. The room spun away from my vision and then everything went black. For what seemed like an eternity I fell into darkness until the lights slowly came closer to me. I knew it; I was dead, never go to the damn light. A voice rang out in my head, "Helena, c'mon come back, you can do it." And then everything got bright and loud again. I thought I either just died or went to heaven or Ave is God. I think it's the latter one. I felt my legs come back under control and I started to stand up again. Two strong hands pushed my back until I was vertical again. I turned to see who was there but the guard was already lifting me to get back on stage. They handed me a new guitar while Ave strutted over to me. "The hell kid? You okay?" I let out a fake laugh and smiled. "Okay as I'll ever be, Ave. Let's shred for these kiddies okay?" The crowd exploded. She gave me the sly question eye but we started our next song. I played carefully for the rest of the night so not to replay the earlier events. As the final notes of our last song rang out, I careful stepped up again onto the amp and held my fist out. The crowd joined me as the echo sang back to us. I looked down to the floor and a pair of shining eyes met mine, he smiled and held the head of my smashed guitar up to me. As I tried to reach for it, Ave called me off the stage. I looked back as I walked meekly off stage but his eyes were gone. Suddenly, a sharp force yanked me around. "HELENA! WHAT HAPPENED OUT THERE!?" Ave went into super mother, scary, holy penguins batman mode. I covered my head and whimpered. I began babbling "I, I don't know, I just sort of fell and, don't kill me..." I signaled defeat and hung my head low. "You scared us half to death." Adele and Darcie came over to my back and smashed me between two giant hugs. See, Ave is 5'7" maybe taller, Adele has to be at least 5'10" and Darcie makes Yao Ming look like a midget. I'm a whooping 5'3". I get smashed between giant's hugs, and they hurt. "AIR!" I gasped. They both backed up laughing, "Sorry!" they said together. My head was throbbing and I pushed them away so I could find my duffle bag. I found it but so had someone else. He stood about 6 feet tall and leaned against the wall, unlit cigarette in his lips. His hair was a greasy blond and hidden under a top hat. I knew he'd be here; I sighed and waved him off. He grabbed my arm and pulled me close to his face. "What's wrong deary, not happy to see me?" His breathe reeked of heavy alcohol. "No, I'm not, so move." I pushed him away from me and reached for my duffel bag. He tottered around before swinging back and shoving me down. My wrist cracked loudly as it collided with the wall. "Don't like it so much huh? Don't push people if you don't want to be pushed back." His words slurred together as he stood himself up. I pushed myself to get up and fight back. I stood and faced him as the girls looked on helplessly. Paparazzi had caught wind of the fight and were hiding in the curtain. I knew they were there and I was about to make the scene of a century. I limply held my fists up, my right one aching like all hell. "Oh you want to fight now huh?" He screamed. I shook like a leaf in the wind. This always looked so much cooler in my head when I stood victoriously over his dead body like a proud hunter over his kill. This was not going to end well. I surveyed the backstage, if I ran now; I could get out the back door. So I did. My legs ached and burned as I darted across the backstage and out the door. He followed quickly for a drunk, and was gaining on me as I ran into the empty parking lot. I imagined I was running in the Olympic dash and I was losing. My head was down as I collided with something incredibly hard. I let out a shrill string of curse words and another voice did too. I was laying flat on my back in a puddle as a hand reached down to me. "Get up, he's right behind you." My heart leapt into my throat as I jumped to my feet and swung my arms around. The voice was right; I stood face to face with him. "C'mon, ill forget all about this if we just go back to my house and..." My body got red hot and my heart beat like a kick drum in my head. "NO!" I shouted and my left arm swung around. My palm collided loudly with the side of his face, sending his top hat off. His hair hung long over his face as he regained balance. I laughed with panic as he locked eyes with me again. The side of his face was all red and I was shaking with horror. He swung his fist but I ducked just in time. The tall figure behind me got a mouthful of knuckles. The dark figure behind me pushed me aside before throwing one punch and lying out my now ex-almost dead-"boyfriend" (We weren't really dating, I hated him and he never left me alone. He leaked to the press for money and was a drunk. Seeing this was better than Christmas.) I happily watched as he lay motionless on the ground. I spun excitedly around to hug my mystery savior but he was gone. The sound of his shoes slopping in the newly wet pavement faded into the defining rain. "WAIT!" I screamed out but he only raised his hand to wave me goodbye. I kicked the ground in deflating hope and something hit my foot. I looked down and the head of my guitar was lying at my feet. I slowly picked it up and something black got all over my hands. I turned it over and in faded running sharpie it said "tag, your it." and his number. I looked in shock, like I had been slapped as paparazzi caught me in full break down mode. A rather aggressive camera flash shot me in the eyes multiple times. "Hey, bucko, shoot this." I wound one fist back and punched the lens. It was like the whole world was about to come crashing down on me and this shmuck is following me. The lens shattered into my fist but I just walked away with the only things I had left, my sharpied, soaking wet guitar head and a bloody broken fist.

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