"Now we can follow you back home but we won't.
Is this what you had waited for?
Just to be alone?" -All We Know
I stood in front of the mirror with a grim expression, biting the inner part of my lip nervously. My hair was pulled up into a high ponytail minus the few tendrils that escaped onto my face. I flicked the bangs out of my eyes in order to see the crystal blue. I was dressed in a white polo with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows; a cotton, black vest was placed on top of it, complete with a clashing red tie. My pants were just a simple pair of dark skinny jeans I managed to find in the depths of my closet, and as always I had on my trusty combat boots.
Yesterday after we met up with Tilted Reality, Gabriel discussed our attire and how we all had to deck out on casual formal- a way to intimidate opponents while gain respect from the judges and television viewers. He specifically said no other colors besides black and white, so I decided to be a prick and add some color into my outfit.
I pulled at the hem of the polo, rembering fondly who it used to belong to. I found it at the bottom of my dresser, and immediately decided to wear it. Today was a big day, and mental support from Mom brought a huge wave of calm onto my shoulders. Wearing her blouse, I blinked at my reflection, cracking a small smile as I whispered to myself, "You look just like her."
Memories of my mother getting ready for work in the morning overcame me as I envisioned her wearing the same exact shirt and flashing her warm smile. Quickly, I shook my head. I didn't want to work myself up before the round started. I grabbed my drumsticks from the nightstand, gripping them tightly before walking across my room to the bed.
Taking several pillows, I stuffed them under the comforter, trying to recreate a sleeping figure under the blankets. It was better safe than sorry. Feeling satisfied, I straightened my back and cracked my knuckles, trying to psych myself up for the competition. Who knows how many people will tune in to watch the broadcast? Just imagining the large crowd at the arena added with the viewers at home made me feel queasy. I didn't like people or attention.
Quietly, I began to walk the remaining few inches from the bed to the window. I smirked, cracking it open and immediately being hit with the cool, Seattle breeze. Just as I managed to lift one leg over the windowsill, the door to my room slammed open, making me jump and crack my neck as I instantly turned towards the noise.
Mentally slapping myself for forgetting to lock the door, I felt my grip on the sill tighten as I gritted my teeth at being caught. My eyes squeezed shut as his hands found the collar of my vest, forcibly hauling me back into the room and throwing me onto the floor.
Not even managing a groan, I put both hands on the floor and started to pull myself up when he stopped me. Grabbing me again, he forced me to my feet and glared as I attempted to push him away. My struggles were futile as he demanded, "And where do you think you're going, Lacey?"
I said nothing, feeling my cold exterior beginning to frost. Suddenly, I was back to my old self, without the warmth my band provided for me by my side. My eyes narrowed as I gripped his fists which were still holding me up.
"Answer me." Marco ground out, his jaw clenching. I spit in his face, which was a major mistake as his expression contorted instantly from disgust to anger. He forced me backwards until my back hit the coolness of the wall, making me grunt.
"What are you doing in my room, Marco? I told you never to come in here." I said instead, keeping my voice low and steady despite the erratic beating of my heart.
"I wanted to check up on you, and I'm glad I did. Just because I lack sobrierty most of the time doesn't mean I don't notice you constantly leaving the house or coming back in the dead of night. Where do you go, Lacey? Why are you keeping secrets from your father?"
"My father's dead." I pointed out the fact, and it was true. My biological father dropped off the face of the planet since before I was three, and I would never admit to Marco being my father. Desperately in the back of my mind, I tried to conjure up the happy memories with the man in front of me- trying to force myself to remember that people can change, and once my deal with Mike was finished, everything would change for the better.
But it was a tad hard when he was constricting my airpipes.
I clenched my own jaw, staring him right in his dark eyes. His face was ragged, with hints of a five o' clock shadow around his chin and dark circles under his eyes. He looked horrible and for a split-second I felt pity. But it was gone as quick as it came. He slammed me against the wall, and I felt pain blossom in the back of my head.
"Don't tell me you're sneaking out to deal. Are you that kind of girl, Lacey? Or do you sell your body for a few, quick bucks? Huh, you little slut?"
"Aw, Marco. I didn't know you kept up with my sex life. How sweet of you. As long as we're having this wonderful bonding moment, I should tell you that I'm fucking George Clooney tonight. Don't wait up for me." I hissed back, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Don't talk back to me!" Marco growled, slamming me against the walls again.
Stars. That's all I could see as my head swam in a sea of darkness. Lights flickered in and out of my vision, making me dizzy, but the stars were most noticeable. Hands gripped the collar of my shirt, holding me in place against the wall. A small trace of sweat trailed down my temples as I focused my apathetic gaze at my step-father.
"I'm asking you again, Lacey. Where are you going?" He growled, his breath rancid and hot on my face. A drunk Marco I could handle, but when he was sober. . .
"It's none-," He pushed me against the wall forcefully and I flinched, swallowing hard. "None of your business, Marco."
"Damn it, why are you so stubborn now? You're off doing who-knows-what, who-knows-where, and you never tell me anything. I'm only trying to look out for you, but you just push me away. Amelia and I didn't raise you to be this way!" Marco snapped, stumbling a little as I attempted to push myself out of his grasp.
"You didn't raise me at all!" I yelled back, finally freeing myself from his hold. The stars swam alongside my sightline, making me lose my footing too. My head ached as I stumbled across the room, desperate to reach the door. The competition was at Camelot Arena, and it was a forty-five minute walk. If I didn't leave now, I would never make it. This was the last round to be held in Seattle, and I wanted to make it last.
"What... what did you say?" Marco asked, and the tone of his voice made me halt my movement. Whirling around slowly, I frowned at how calm and low his voice was. He met my gaze head-on, confusion in his eyes.
"You were never there for me, Marco. Sure, you were the first few months, but after Mom-" I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat. "What happened to you?"
For that brief moment, my question seemed to hit him hard, and I saw the rage wipe clean off his expression. It was pure confusion in his eyes, as if a spell had snapped, and he was no longer a monster. But I knew him better than that. Pretty soon, this Marco would disppear after a shot of whiskey, and I would be left wishing for him to regain himself like he did just now. I always wondered when his bipolar moodswings began but I knew the root cause had to be the alcohol consumption.
Marco opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off quickly, "Anyway, I have a plane to catch. I'm off to Vegas to get hitched to a marijuana dealer and then get fucked all night. Don't worry, I won't be using any condoms. Adios." Without waiting for a reply, I staggered forwards and out the door, with only the stars in my head to keep me company.
By the time I reached the stadium, I was already twenty minutes late for the band's desired meeting time. I ignored all their incessant calls, because the ringing brought new levels of pain to my migraines, though I knew that they were all irritated at me- especially Gabriel.
I had taken a detour into a local gas station to clean up before I continued the last half-mile to Camelot. There had been blood in my hair that was a bitch to clean out, and my make-up had gotten smudged, but at that point I didn't care. The brawl with Marco left me exhausted on both a physical and mental level. I may have stayed in that bathroom longer than necessary just to get the room to stop spinning and to get a hold of myself.
Hoping the bruises on my collarbones were hidden by the polo and that the head wound was finished bleeding, I took a deep breath and entered the arena, feeling a blast of warmth from the heating.
I swayed slightly as I tried to read the blurry signs over vending shops, looking for the meeting place Gabriel had told us: Joe's Shack. People were everywhere, either buying snacks or hurrying to their seats since the competition had already started. A few bumped into me, and each time I jumped, still disorientated from before. The arena was a mess of noise and lights and I winced, trying to block everything out.
"Lacey!" A familiar voice shouted through the crowd, and I almost cheered in relief.
"Xander." I greeted him hoarsely as soon as the blonde reached my side. A smile was on his face, happy that I finally made my grand appearance. I tried to conjure up a smile back but it came out as a grimace.
"Why weren't you answering our calls?" He asked, grabbing my wrist and steering me through the crowd, past the remaining feet to Joe's Shack.
"No signal. Lots of traffic." I gritted out in terse, choppy sentences. My head was still swimming but I choked down any complaints.
"Ohh, well I'm sure the others will understand." He nodded, glancing back at me. "Hey... are you alright?"
"Overslept." I mumbled, shooing my free hand at him.
Before he could reply, I heard a chorus of groans and "Lacey"s as we reached the vending area. Drake and Zac immediately came to my side as Gabriel continued leaning against the countertop with his arms crossed.
"What happened to you?" Zac asked, concerned, and for a second I thought he meant something else. But my heart rate slowed back down as Xander answered for me, "She had no signal in traffic. I can't blame her though. Seems like a lot of people are showing up for this."
"Aw, Lacey. It's cool, we were just worried you wouldn't show. But you're here so it doesn't matter!" Drake cheered, extending his had for a high-five. I weakly slapped his palm and shook my head.
"Gabriel still seems pretty upset." I murmured.
"Gabriel is quite upset." The devil's voice spoke as he finally joined our group huddle. Gabriel shot me a glare before scolding, "What part of 'don't be late' did you not understand? Now we have no time to practice."
"Look, I'm sorry-"
"Sorry won't keep us in this competition. If you mess us up, you're out of here, you got it?" Gabriel stared me down and I glared back tensely.
"Gabe, she said she was sorry." Xander came to my defense, holding his hands up in a surrendering gesture. Gabriel shot him a glare too and Xander visibly gulped, rubbing the back of his head.
"Yeah, man. Let it go. We all make mistakes. Remember Pact Rule Numero Uno: we're all family here. So no hard feelings, okay? We have a round to get past." Zac placed a hand on Gabriel's shoulder, giving his friend a soft look.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Gabriel merely sighed and shrugged off his friend's hold. "We're one of the last contestants again, and band number eighty something just finished. That's all you missed." He told me, trying to regain his cool.
"So we'll be up soon?" I asked, bending down to take Rev out of my boot.
"Yeah, there are five more bands before us and then it's our time to shine." Xander answered my question, shooting me a smile. I nodded weakly in his direction, grabbing one of the chairs tucked underneath a table by the Shack and sitting down. I placed my head in my hands, feeling the pounding in my skull and I squeezed my eyes shut for a few minutes. The sound of footsteps behind me brought a curiosity to myself and I listened to see who had joined our band.
"Hey, Blake." I heard Drake's voice from behind me, sounding surprised. "Back again?"
"Er, yeah." Blake's voice replied, sounding worried. "Is she here yet?"
"She's right over there, smart one." Xander snorted, and I frowned at his shift in mood. I heard Blake mumble back a muted thanks before hearing him shuffle into the seat beside me.
"Sturm?" Swallowing, I put my hands down and looked up, meeting his emerald gaze. He looked concerned, but I could see him trying to force it away. He knew how I felt about pity.
"Hey, Harnage." I smirked back unconvincingly, my voice shaky. "Are you here to ask me if I'm fine again?"
"No," Blake quirked an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat. "I wanted to wish you good luck out there."
"I don't need luck." I teased tauntingly, already feeling a little better as we fell into our usual banter.
"Oh, that's right. Because you're Miss Prodigy on the drumset, huh?" He grinned the familiar lopsided grin, looking at me.
"And don't forget it." I slurred, pointing a finger at him. The concerned expression flitted once across his face, almost too quick for me to notice. Coughing discreetly, I added, "Did you guys go yet?"
"Nah, they're saving us for last again." Blake sighed, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Tom said that'll be our line-up for all five rounds."
"Why do you guys always have to agree with Tom?" I frowned, cocking my head to one side.
Blake glanced over our shoulders, making sure my band wasn't in earshot as he leaned in close and whispered, "He's my dad, Sturm."
"But still-"
"He's my dad." Blake reiterated, a soft look on his face. His tone radiated that his statement was final and I fell silent, knowing exactly what he meant.
The two of us lapsed into a comfortable silence and he was the first to break it when he stated, "When we make it to the third round-"
"Cocky, much?" I smirked and he rolled his eyes at me.
"Like, I was saying. When we make it to the third round, you know things will only get tougher from there, right?"
I frowned. "Well, I mean I was expecting that but..."
"I'm just saying. It might seem great to leave this place," I tensed but he didn't notice as he continued. "Or you can't wait to travel around the nation from coast to coast. But sometimes... being a rockstar isn't all that it's thought up to be." His voice sounded tired, worn out. "I just-"
Blake sighed before running a hand through his messy, black hair. "But it's all about the music, that's all there is. So I guess it isn't too bad. And you meet some great people along the way." He turned to glance at me, smiling slightly. I half-smiled back, his grin was contagious.
But I couldn't help that feeling of guilt returning to the depths of my gut, making me squirm in my seat. If only Blake knew the truth about why I was really in this. He would hate me forever, and he would especially hate what I was doing to him.
"Lacey, come on." Drake's head popped into my view, casting glances between me and Blake. "Ahh, sorry to interrupt, but we're up next. We have to get to the stage, Lace."
"I'll be there in a sec." I assured him, nodding. He patted me on the shoulder before nodding at Blake and departing. I glanced behind me, and sure enough the rest of Chasing Avenues was nowhere to be found.
"I guess you should head up there." Blake said. He stood from his chair and I copied, but instantly staggered back as a wave of vertigo washed over me.
"Sturm?"
"I'm fine." I ground out, gripping the edge of the table as the world slowed back down. Unconvinced, Blake shot me a look but didn't press the issue. He continued staring and soon I was feeling a bit ucomfortable.
"What?" I snapped, irritated.
He shrugged, smiling softly. "Nothing."
I felt the irritation ebb away as I quirked an eyebrow at him in confusion. He stared again and I squirmed uneasily. His gaze wasn't intimidating, it was soft and curious. As if he were looking at me from a new perspective.
Blake hesitantly took a few steps in my direction and my breath caught in my throat, eyes widening. He stopped a few inches away, and his face was close. So close.
With a smile, he bent down and planted a soft kiss on my forehead before pulling away. "Good luck, Sturm." He breathed, smirking at my dumbfounded expression.
"Lacey!" I heard Xander shout at me, and I whirled around to see him just around the corner, waving his arms frantically.
"Coming!" I yelled back, turning back to give Blake my goodbyes. But I was met with empty space; he was gone. I blinked and spun around, looking for any sign of him, but he had completely disappeared. Letting out a huff, I felt a wide smile forming on my face as I lifted a hand slowly to my forehead.
Touching the spot he kissed, I felt warmth spread through me before I recomposed myself and started off towards the stage and my future.
——
God, I hated this chapter. It just poured out, but I'm no satisfied. My writing totally sucked, haha. Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to ScarredHeart because she made me fanart! o: Can you believe it? If any of you guys want to make me something, I would be glad to see them. ;)
Comment. Vote. Promote. x
—Isabelle