The Moon and the Gun

3

So drunk. Wasted.

Tyler, my bud, helps me. My bud.

Good man, good boy. Good singer, too. I remember the first time he sang to me, or for me. It was a song on the radio, and we were with a bunch of our friends.

He sounded amazing, and he wasn't even trying.

I wonder is he sings in the car with Jenna.

Falling into bed...

---------------------------------------------------

He thinks I'm asleep, but I'm not. I can hear him screaming into his pillow. I can hear him sobbing and clutching at the pillow like it's going to save him.

The drinks have worn off, and now I lay in bed listening.

Sometimes, I wonder if he is like this around Jenna. I wonder if it scares her like it terrifies me.

I feel heartbroken for him, but there is nothing I can do. Tyler has his own demons that haunt him, and I can't fight them for him.

Tyler falls asleep eventually, and the crying stops. The horrible, lonely crying.

I sit up, my head pounding. I have this trembling feeling that's crawling up my spine, whispering in my ear. I can hear words, telling me what to do.

take a gun, they say, it'll be over quick.

I shoot up and run into the bathroom, heaving as soon as I hit the toilet. I try not to sob as I puke my guts out, and when I finish, I stand up and face myself in the mirror.

"I am not going to let you win," I say, glaring at myself in the mirror.

My reflection winks at me, and points to my hand. Shakily, I look down.

I'm holding a handgun, and my fingers are locked on the trigger,

I moan and the gun clatters to the ground. My reflection laughs as I collapse onto the floor.

Last show, it hisses.

last show.

------------------------------------------

It's Michael's obnoxious shouts that wake me up from my dream. I jolt awake and try not to look freaked out. My heart is racing from my nightmare, but I try and look nonchalant. That's my job. Keep Tyler sane.

Even if it means I'm not.

Michael reminds us that it's our last show. At those words, a chill goes up my spine. I freeze, and swallow hard, pretending to adjust my pillow. Tyler bites his lip at this and nods slowly, staring at the ground and concentrating.

I know this is gonna be a hard day for him. This tour means everything to Ty. It's his way of getting everything out. I know he hates being in cold Ohio, all alone. But I couldn't take it. I couldn't take the small town claustrophobia for a single moment more. So I moved to LA, where the sun was always out.

I join Tyler in the bathroom as we brush our teeth. I study his face, looking for a sign that he heard me, or if my dream was real. I do a quick scan of the bathroom, but there is no gun.

Obviously.

I ask if we can get pizza for breakfast. Tyler says yes.

Obviously.