BADLANDS

new americana

"raised on biggie and nirvana, we are the new americana."

7:30 PM

"this song is about a generation that is unafraid of diversity. this song is about how we, the people of the badlands, are undivided," she shouts to the crowd, throat hoarse but energy rushing to her head.

the audience fed off of her words, waves of yells sounding out in reply.

she couldn't help but grinning vibrantly at the fact that these people, so full of the violent delights of the badlands, were singing along to her music.

she spun around, twirling her black leather skirt. she feels her own music, her own production rush through her, and she just reins free, dancing around the stage. it's an amazing feeling, having people watching her, listening to her. singing along drunkenly even if they don't know the words to the three songs she's performed.

"cigarettes, and tiny liquor bottles," she starts to sing loudly, heart light as she pulls the mic cord to the end of the stage.

it was a small crowd, but it didn't matter. she was there, sharing her songs, and she was happy for even the tiniest shred of time, nothing really mattered except ashley and the crowd.

she ignores the nagging feeling in her stomach, and the crushing atmosphere around her.

when she spots zack, smiling at her, she falters for a second, remembering her phone call to him earlier, before continuing bouncing across the stage, blue hair flying around her. she would talk with him later, figure out what it took to leave his "deal" before she ended up dead. but for now, she keeps singing.

when the song ends, she's flushed and breathing hard, but beaming.

"thank you so much for listening, this was so fucking cool," she gushes, drinking her water. she means it- it just feels right. the people staring back at her are full of energy, a blend of colors and sounds.

she sees it before she hears it, sees the man in the crowd struggling when she suddenly gasps, lurching forward, the weight of the world bringing her off of her feet. she hears her own scream, plunging into darkness.

that was when the gunshots went off.

X

"survival of the richest, the city's ours until the fall."

10:39 PM

when she wakes up, she is not in a hospital room. she stares not into the face of a doctor, but into the blue eyes of the boy she met only 2 weeks ago.

she inhales sharply, her side stabbing her, causing ashley to gasp.

"i don't know how to deal with a fucking bullet, he used to deal with this shit!" she hears peter's rough tone. she's come to her senses but she can't move, can't talk.

"neither do i, dumbass. but what other choice do we have?" a girls loud, clear voice reaches her as well, seeming vaguely familiar.

she groans outward, her side burning more.

"she's waking up," he mumbles, "shit."

it's like her whole body is being immersed in tendrils of flame, the wicked pain never ending.

"oh my god," ashley gasps, staring at the faces across from her bed. she was in her apartment. "what... who shot me?"

"some drunk asshole with a gun, he was messing with us the whole show. the wound's not that bad, it was from pretty far back," mel announces suddenly, removing her cold fingers from ashley's hip. "stop freaking out, both of you." she rolls her eyes, tilting her jaw back.