Nobody Can Save Me

The silence splits me open 3

"Hey... Did you open the present yet? You didn't say anything so...", I ask and poke him to get his attention. He looks confused and annoyed. Maybe there is something wrong in his plate of food.

"Oh.. No, not yet", he says and doesn't even turn his head. That is weird. It's like he doesn't want to interact at all.

"Please do! Today? I want to hear what you think", I smile and force myself not to yell all questions to him. Where the hell is the drummer I used to know?

-End of the POV-

He stood up and walked out from the room leaving the others behind. Still some time to kill before the show. The wrist ached and itched but it was more like this sweet burning and totally tolerable. He headed to the back stage dressing room and found a quiet corner and sat down. Only some hours and it would be finished. Then four more gigs and back to States.

----

"Hey! Again you are not paying attention!", Dave stomped his foot in front of him. He had fallen so deep into his thoughts that he hadn't seen the others getting to the room.

"Sorry...", he whispered and took the drumsticks that the bassist was handing to him. Dave gave one more glance to him and shook then his head.

"Ten minutes!", there was suddenly a voice echoing in the room.

Chester was fooling around like he usually does and Brad was watching him laughter glistening in his eyes. Joe wasn't anywhere to be seen and the rest two talked about something getting their ear monitors on. He stood up and gulped. There it goes again... He was glad he could hide behind the drums and he didn't have to interact with the fans like the rest did. Just focusing to the rhythm it should be soon over. They were pushed slowly towards the stage and he watched what the others did not saying a word.

At the stage he sat down behind his set and heard the crowd first time properly. He wanted to shrink. To disappear. But it wasn't possible. Not now, not anymore. Soon 'What I've Done' started and he inhaled audibly, closed his eyes and waited for his cue and then started to play. It came from the spine and as long as he concentrated to the drums he didn't hear the audience. He didn't have to care about the people that came to see them play. To see him play. He didn't want that. Didn't deserve that...

At the end of 'Faint' he knew it had been bad idea. His wrist ached so much after beating the cymbals and he wanted to scream. Fifteen and something to go, fuck, he bit his lip and mentally punched himself. 'No More Sorrow' started and he felt blood soaking his sleeve. Stupid fucking idiot, he yelled at himself inside his mind. Why why why I didn't think it further. Only thing he was happy was that he had used deep blue shirt and not the white one that was the other clean option. He even laughed dryly to that thought. Focusing again to the playing he managed to push his thoughts aside. His sweat stung in the wound but still the pain was tolerable.

And soon the last encore song was played and he was relieved. Now I will get this fucking shirt of and use duct tape or something. And never, ever again do that before a show, he thought. And stopped to that. He was really thinking about doing it again? Messed up more than one way, I guess

Fans were cheering and the cacophony was deafening. He was last to go down and it was totally dark there. 'Exit'- signs shed some light and with feeling the walls he managed slowly to go further. He felt the panic rise but tried to suffocate it.

"There you are!", Chester was suddenly in front of him. "Some electric issues, come", he heard him say. The singer grabbed his wrist and he yelped and flinched. Crap! Not that one!, he thought.

"Whoa, sorry. What was that?", Chester asked weirded out by the sudden outburst.

"Uhm... Probably just slept on my wrist. And playing made it worse, you know", he shrugged feeling his face get red. Luckily it was so dark.

"You got to be careful. Next show tomorrow and more to come. We can't lose you", he was pushed forward by the singer.

He did know that. He knew it very well. He most likely knew it better than anyone of them. That there was more shows to play. But no, it wasn't like he was irreplaceable. Quite the opposite, really.

"Yeah.. I think I will just rest it today", he mumbled when they arrived to the garage.

"The drive is super short, but the driver said that he'd rather leave now and sleep then night well there", Dave was telling the others when they caught them.

"Surprisingly the forecast says that there should be no rain now. Terrible wind though", Joe waved in front of his lap top when they got inside the bus. Rob shivered. He hated the cold weather.

"So... Are we going to sleep in the bus today", he asked pointing his words to Mike.

"No. But, the hotel was really booked so I'm sorry you and Brad share a room", he answered knowing that the drummer wouldn't like the answer.

"Oh. Okay", he nodded and sat down to the couch they had back in the bus. Nice. Just perfect day for that, he thought.

Brad glanced at the drummer and felt awkward. It was like the other man was hit hard. Totally defeated. And only cause he had to sleep in the same room with him. And it wasn't like they would share a bed or anything. Which though still wouldn't be enough to cause that kind of a reaction. He sighed and decided he would ask was was this all about. He had to know why the drummer had changed so much.

------1