"Just enough time to plan an escape route
I put my map on the wall in the basement
Not quite a victory to run from your problems
But it's the only plan that I've got." -Escape Route
"I heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord, but you don't really care for music, do you? It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift. The baffled king composing Hallelujah. Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah." On the last hallelujah, my voice cracked, sending the magic of the music sinking back into the ground where it came from.
Laying sprawled on the kitchen floor, I numbly traced a circle in the dust surrounding me as I continued humming the tune to the solemn song by Jeff Buckley. Early morning light streamed through the broken windows, casting a glow over the floor. I had been awake since the early twilight, waiting for that bit of golden hue to shine over the horizon. It was a symbol of a new day, a symbol that things would get better.
I needed things to get better.
In my back pocket, I felt vibrations stirring my still body, which came from the cell phone tucked safely into its folds. I ignored once it again. The annoying device had been buzzing incessently since yesterday, but I never bothered to pick up. I had only checked the caller ID once, only to find that each missed call and text came from Blake. Guessing that he had heard about the news, I didn't want to drown myself in his pity, so I didn't bother.
There were no messages from Chasing Avenues.
Perhaps the band was over and done with, now that there was nothing to gain. Undoubtedly, the original trio minus me and Xander would stick together and perhaps find a new goal, maybe keep trying to achieve their dreams about becoming a famous rock band one day, touring the world in all their glory. I wouldn't stop them; they deserved it. I didn't.
I would be stuck straggling behind in their dust, much like I am right now. Events from last night cascaded into my thoughts, making me bring shaky hands up to the sides of my head and squeezing hard to block out the thoughts. Marco had been brutal and relentless; though I was numb and couldn't feel the impact during his strikes, by the time it was over and the numbness had faded, I was left in pain on the ground. I stayed on the ground, covered in dust and bruises, until now.
It took much more effort than usual to drag myself off the floor. There was pain everywhere, from my shins to my face, which skyrocketed as I stretched and drew to my full length. Feeling the bones crack in my spine as I took an unsteady step forward, my foot slipped out from underneath and sent me crashing back to the ground.
I emitted a pained groan, finding myself back in the same situation as before. Exhaling deeply, I prepared to hoist myself up again when the slamming of a door made me freeze.
My breath caught in my throat, I turned my head ever so slightly just in time to see Marco exiting his bedroom. He had changed into a ragged grey shirt that clung onto his beer belly, and shorts that looked like a corset squeezing around him. Having not shaved for a few days, his chin was spattered with dots of stubble and his beady amber eyes roamed the apartment. I started to panic because he usually gave me time to recover before another 'session,' and let out a small whimper as he neared.
Instead of raising his fist when he stopped at where I lay, Marco stared down at my broken form with a dead expression. I flinched, unable to meet his gaze. "You look like shit." He noted.
No shit, sherlock. I wanted to scream, to gain back my cold exterior from before. But everything was changing and I had begun to thaw. Instead, I just didn't reply at all.
"Here," Marco growled. The sound of loose coins had me looking at where the sound came from, only to find crumpled bills and change by my face. "Buy some more beer. The good kind. And get yourself something to fix your face. I don't want my daughter looking like a piece of shit."
The scuff of his boots walking away drew dust into my face and I coughed. Reaching forward slowly, I took the money in a shaky fist and gripped it tightly. The sound of the door opening was enough to indicate that Marco was leaving.
"Where are you going?" I choked out.
"Out." said my step-father ambiguously, and then he was gone.
I ran my free hand through my hair, before once again trying to pull myself to my feet. It took multiple tries but soon I was standing and getting used to how sore everything felt. I tested out my hands first, making sure they were still working. I did my best to shield them from Marco's kicks, and luckily they came out with minimal damage. I thanked God that I could still drum.
I wouldn't even wish that feeling of never being able to do something you love ever again on my worst enemy.
Slowly, I floated to the bathroom, kicking at garbage blocking the entryway and pushing the creaking door open. Flicking on the lights, I was immediately met with my reflection in the broken mirror. Sucking in a breath, I surveyed the damage.
My left eye was blackened and swollen and patches of purple lined my cheek to my jawline. I lifted the hem of my shirt only to find similar patterns on my ribcage and winced. Hoping the damage wasn't too bad on my legs, I just turned on the faucet and tried my best to wash the grime and blood off my face. Once I was done, I applied heavy layers of concealer and foundation, hoping to mask the bruising. It worked a little better with the bruise on my cheek, but nothing could hide the black eye, no matter what I did. It would have to do.
I quickly darted into my room and changed into a clean Pink Floyd shirt and skinny jeans. Grabbing a sweat jacket off the edge of my bed, I scooped the money into the pockets and pulled the hood tightly over my head.
Shoving my feet into my combat boots, I checked to see if Rev was inside before opening the door and slipping out into the early morning sunlight.
There was no point in going to school today; after all, I wasn't mentally prepared nor was I physically. It was a friday anyway. Besides, I didn't feel up for seeing any one of my bandmates in the hallways or classes. Especially since Xander was in three of them; and I knew how he got. He reminded me of how Marco used to be, back when Mom was alive. Sweet, protective... I felt like punching myself for even trying to compare them.
Instead, here I was going to buy more drinks for my father. I was trying to escape hell, but instead I was fueling the fire.
My steps slowed down enough until I finally stopped. In the middle of the sidewalk, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the crumpled bills, staring at the creases in the folds. What was I doing?
I let out a strangled noise of protest and shoved the money back in my pockets, doing a 180 and spinning back around to where I came from. The action confused me. I was always so lenient, that at every beck and call I was at Marco's side. But why?
The answer wasn't as difficult to conjure up as I thought: I was scared. Scared? I scoffed at myself, puffing out my chest. I wasn't scared. But even I knew that was a lie.
It's always been about that. From the very beginning. I was scared when my mom died. I was scared when Marco first hit me, and every time he's done it since. I was scared when I joined Chasing Avenues, when I learned about the competition, about losing, about the deal. I was scared of myself.
And I was just a huge coward because what I did all my life was run. I'm still running. The deal with Mike proved that.
It's not quite a victory to run from my problems, but it's the only plan that I've got.
I reached back into my pocket, feeling the edges of Marco's alcohol money, and sighed. I took out my phone and pressed two on speed dial. Pressing the phone to my ear, it dialed twice before he picked up.
"Hello?"
"Mike, it's Lacey."
"Lacey? What have you got for me?"
"Can you bump up our meeting a little earlier?"
"To when?"
Taking a look around, I watched as the trees swayed in the breeze, as winter approached slowly. I shivered against the sudden chill, though I wasn't sure entirely if it was the cold or something else. In my pockets, my brushed against the money. I turned my attention back to the phone call.
"Now?"
The walk to the small cafe on Northampton street took only about ten minutes, and soon I was pushing against the metal doors and feeling the heat slap against my face. Pulling my hood lower so that it covered the top of my face, I scanned the perimeter before spotting Mike situated in a booth towards the back of the cafe.
I made my way towards him, hands shoved deep in my pockets, head turned towards the ground. He glanced up as I took the seat in front of him, sliding into the booth and not meeting his gaze.
"Lacey." Mike greeted with a tip of the head.
"Mike."
He folded his hands across from him in a professional manner. "So what do you have for me?"
"I spent the night at Blake's apartment," I started, ignoring his little smile from the sentence. "And yes, you heard me right: apartment. Apparently, he usually doesn't chill at Tilted Reality's mansion. He's usually secluded and prefers being alone in this ratty apartment that he bought under Tom's nose."
"What does this have to pertain to?"
I spread my hands out onto the table, using gestures to insinuate where I was trying to get at. "When I first met Blake, he acted like an ass. I never understood why because social media always depicted him as a fluffy teddy bear who wouldn't hurt a fly. Two nights ago, he explained that it was a form of rebellion against his manager. Because Tom was practically controlling their lives, their actions, their personas. There's something definitely going on, something deeper to Tom's ploy than you thought originally."
"What do you mean?" Mike furrowed his eyebrows, leaning in closer.
"You told me at the start, that this," I waved to myself and then back to him. "was all for revenge. You wanted to get back at Tom for running you out of the business. You even said that you weren't the only one who Tom ruined."
"I still don't follow."
"At Blake's apartment, I was pretending to be asleep when Tom was over." I raised my hand to stop Mike from interrupting. "They were yelling and arguing; I had never Blake sound that angry. He was furious. And then Tom said something along the lines of, 'if we're going to dominate the business industry, you have to listen to what I say.' He has a plan, Mike. And maybe your part in this is just a smaller part of the bigger picture."
Mike sat in stunned silence for a few moments, before leaning back in his spot and running a hand through his hair. "So what you're saying is..."
"I have a feeling that Tilted Reality, Infinite Records, and this Battle of the Bands play a major part in Tom's plan. And that his plan might jeopardize the music industry, the label, and possibly many other managers or producers like you."
We were quiet for a long moment of time, only broken by when my cell phone rang once again in my pocket. I took out the device and scowled at it, before declining the call.
Mike arched a curious eyebrow. "Not going to answer that?"
"Nope." I replied, my hood sliding back slightly as I glanced up.
Without warning, Mike reached over as quick as a flash, his hand pulling my hood back to reveal my bruised face. I winced at the sudden revelation, slapping his hand away with so much force that he immediately hid it and rubbed the soreness.
"What the fuck did you do that for?" I whispered fiercely, glaring at him as best I could with a swollen eye.
"Did he do this to you?" Mike asked, and I was confused. His usual smug exterior seemed to have completely disappeared as he looked at me with concern.
I scoffed, an airy snort that was combined with a roll of the eyes. "I thought you knew about my predicament at home."
"I didn't think it was this bad." said Mike, though his voice was low and I didn't think he expected me to hear. So I brushed it off. "Look, Lacey, this deal we have going on is great and all but I think if you really want to escape your father-"
"Step-father." I corrected lamely.
"Then maybe you should just go to the police."
"No!" I almost yelled, slamming my hand onto the table. Curious patrons in the cafe shot me looks for disturbing their peace but I ignored them.
"But why?" Mike insisted, frowning at my injuries.
"No one understands why." I sighed out, pulling my hands across the table until they slid back into my lap. "I barely understand myself. This plan can help me get away from my past, Mike. From Marco. But as much as he hurts me, I don't hate him. Deep down, I know he can get better, I swear. When I leave for England, it can give him time to cope. I'll send money to him. I can help him get better. I don't want to see him rot in jail. If this plan backfires, I don't want to be sent away from the only person I have left."
With my explanation finished, I leaned back in my chair and frowned at myself in the reflection in the window. I had never let this much information slip out before, especially to a nuisance such as Mike. He was quiet for a moment; the only sound was the gentle whirring of the coffee machines and the indistinct chatter of the cafe's customers.
"Why are you choosing to tell me all of this now?" Mike asked quietly.
"You mean you didn't hear?" I sneered, turning my hard gaze back to him.
He looked genuinely confused, and began to open his mouth to speak when a dainty voice interrupted him.
"Lacey?"
I froze in my spot, unable to turn around as soon as I recognized the voice.
"Lacey." The voice pleaded, and I managed to tilt my head ever so slightly so that I could somewhat meet Olivia's eyes. As soon as I turned my face, I heard her sharp intake of breath and flinched. "What happened to you?" She gasped out.
"What are you doing here, Olivia?" I muttered.
"Carter wanted a latte so-"
"Carter's here too?" I deflated even further into my seat. I didn't have the energy for another confrontation with my rival.
"She's in the car." Olivia explained. Her gaze darted to Mike and she blushed slightly from embarassment. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"
"No, no." Mike waved her off with a smile, casting me a quizzical look. "Pretend I'm not even here."
I shot him the bird before turning back to Olivia warily. Her face was closer than I expected and she prodded my bruise gently. It still hurt so I shoved her away. "You didn't answer me. What exactly do you want?"
"I-" Olivia stammered, glancing out the window before looking back at me. "I heard about the competition. I just wanted to say I'm sorry. You guys deserved to go on, you really did."
That wasn't what I expected, and I guess my expression showed it because Olivia quickly explained, "I've been watching NBB. That's what they're calling it: it's short for National Battle of the Bands. Original, I know. And Chasing Avenues.. man you guys are great. Like I can't even explain it." She babbled.
"You... you payed attention to my band?" I said softly, a little bit touched.
"Not just me." Olivia admitted. "Amber and Caden too. Lacey, I that... I know that you might not consider us friends anymore, but the Twins and I don't believe that you never enjoyed spending some time with us. We want to apologize because we ditched you; we were just hurt, you know."
I took her words in silence, unable to form a coherent answer. Olivia took it the wrong way and added, "Can we start over? Please."
Shaking my head, I accused, "But you've always been at Carter's side since the fight, Olivia. You never bothered to show me kindness until now. At least explain to me why."
"Because... because." Olivia blushed at the mention of her friend. Realization clicked in my brain and I whispered, "Liv, do you like her?"
Olivia paled but didn't deny it, merely hanging her head in shame. "Please don't tell anyone. And I won't tell anyone about seeing you like this..." She frowned at my appearance, patting my shoulder. I didn't flinch back this, feeling just as dejected as she felt now that both of our secrets were floating in the open.
"You should go," I said, removing her hand gently. "Before Carter realizes something's up."
Olivia drew her hands back to her sides before asking once more, "Lacey, I don't want to spend the rest of high school knowing that we never settled this. Can we please start over? You stopped being our friend, Lace, but we never stopped being yours."
After a minute, I felt a small smile slip onto my lips and Olivia's answering grin was blinding. She reached forward and pulled me into a hug, and I froze before awkwardly returning it. We drew away and she was still smiling. "It's great to have you back, Lace." Olivia said genuinely. She squeezed my shoulder and then left to pick up her coffee, before leaving and shooting me one more smile.
I gave her a wave as she left, watching through the window as she opened the door of her car, spotting Carter in the passenger's seat. Liv gave the guitarist her coffee before closing the door and backing out of the parking lot.
"That was sweet." Mike's voice had me turning back to him. I forgot he was there. Snorting, I drummed my fingers along the table. He smirked, holding a hand against his heart. Mike's expression turned serious as he added, "By the way, what did she mean by 'I'm sorry. You guys should have gone on'?"
"That's where I was getting at." My expression turned sour again. "I thought being the judges' righthand man would at least inforn you of the results."
"What are you talking about?"
"We got kicked out, dumbass! We didn't make it, and you," I poked his chest hard, accusingly. "never bothered to tell me. And so now you're my only hope in getting to England and away from here."
"Kicked out? What are you saying?" Mike asked incredulously. "Lacey, you guys ranked number seven. Why would you have gotten kicked out?"
"There's no need to lie to me." I blurted out, feeling angry.
"I'm not lying. The only people who have access to the scores are the judges, the CEO of Infinite, and band managers or talent scouts." Mike explained, seeming as confused as I was.
"We checked the list yesterday, Mike." I hissed out. "We weren't on it. Look." Taking out my phone and ignoring another text from Blake, I opened up the internet browser and quickly brought up the NBB website, skimming until I got to the list of remaining contestants. "Here." I shoved the phone in his direction.
Mike took it and read through the contents, his confused frown growing deeper. "This is wrong. Sinsational didn't make it. You guys should be listed here instead of them."
"Then why-" I stopped, taking my phone back and looking back at Mike. "Wait. Did you just say band managers got hold of the scores?"
"Yeah."
"And who has control over maintaining the website?"
"Infinite's advertising executive." Mike said, still not understanding.
"Who's the executive?" I hissed through gritted teeth.
Mike's eyes widened and he breathed, "Tom."
We gaped at each other, silently trying to comprehend the situation. My phone rang shrilly in my hand once again.
Groaning, Mike pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed out, "Just pick up the damn phone already."
Shooting him a glare, I finally accepted the call and pressed the device against my ear. "Harnage?"
"Oh, thank God you finally picked up." Blake's irritated voice echoed in my ears, filled with static.
"Sorry-"
"There's no time for that." Blake said breathlessly, cutting me off. His voice sounded less annoyed and more excited, as if he couldn't wait to tell me something. "Yesterday, Tom called the band into his office. He wanted to talk to us about the competition, right? And I was looking around because I didn't feel like listening to his shit. I caught sight of the scores on his desk. You probably already saw them online, but don't listen to the scores."
"Harnage-"
"You guys ranked seven in the original scores; I have no idea why the website was wrong." I began to smile, a small curve of the lips. Mike wasn't lying then. That meant that-
Blake spoke quickly into the phone, his voice excited and happy. "I questioned Tom about it and stole the sheets to show to the judges. They said they'll fix the ranking on the website. You know what this means, Sturm? You guys are still in! Chasing Avenues are still in the competition!"
"Harnage." I was breathless, just as excited as he was. "Thank you." I meant it.
And with that, I hung up the call and looked up at Mike. He seemed surprised to see me with so much emotion, and positive at that. Matching my grin with one of his, he waved a hand at me and shook his head, "You're dismissed."
I hesitated, sticking my hand into my pocket and pulling out the money Marco had given me. With a smirk, I threw it on the table. Mike could use it to pay for his drink; one that wasn't filled with alcohol. With only a nod at the talent scout, I was soon dashing out the cafe's door.
Checking my phone, the time read ten in the morning. Around this time, I would be in Music Theory. I share that class with Xander, so it would have to do. I made a dash down the sidewalks, my combat boots hitting the pavements with loud thuds. My heart was tight in my throat, my breaths coming in ragged gasps. I propelled mtself forward, running towards the direction of the school.
We were in. We were still in.
Soon Weston was in sight. I pushed myself to go faster until I was speeding up the stairs to the entrance of the building. Panting, I latched onto the door and pulled as hard as I could, only to find it locked from the inside. Moving to the window, I pounded on the door, screaming, "Jack! Jack, let me in!"
The door buzzed open, and I flew inside.
"Miss Carson!" Jack yelled, jumping up from his spot at the security desk. I ignored his cries about standard procedure, deciding suspension wouldn't matter if I would be touring anyway. Because Chasing Avenues made it. We made it.
The thought made me grin harder and sprint to my Music Theory. At the door, I peered through the glass, looking for the familiar blonde. He sat towards the back, eyes glued to the music sheet in his hands. His eyebrows curved downwards in a frown and I saw him glance up in exasperation from the assignment. When Xander's eyes caught mine at the door, I jumped up and down, gesturing for him to get out of class.
His eyes widened upon seeing me, and he instantly got up to talk to the teacher. Judging by the hall pass given, he had asked to go to the bathroom. Soon, Xander was opening the door, only to find me leaning against a row of lockers with a smug expression.
"Lacey? Oh my God, what happened to your face?" He gasped out, reaching out and cupping my cheek. I shooed his hand away and muttered some lame excuse, to which he didn't accept.
"Look, Xander. This isn't about me, okay? It's about the band!"
"What about the band?" Xander asked skeptically, still not wanting to leave the topic of my injuries.
"We're still in the competition, Xander! It was a misprint. A misprint, you hear? Chasing Avenues is still in the competition!"
{warning: long but important author's note ahead}
So, as some of you might know, I had posted a short little author's note regarding something important. And that important thing is... Drumroll, Lacey, please.
-drumroll-
A My Little Decoy one-shot competition! :D
I got some positive comments and votes on the a/n, which I hoped meant that a good chunk of you faithful readers are interested in taking part. So I decided that yes, I will go through with it, and I'm really excited for it!
There are prizes in store for first, second, and third place. Maybe even a little something for an honorable mention. For first place, the winner will recieve a free graphic by me, comment/critique on any story of their choosing, a dedication in My Little Decoy, and a grand prize of a million dollars and a trip to record in Engl- Haha, no. But you do get a surprise that might have to do with a new story of mine coming out after My Little Decoy. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.
For second place, you will a free graphic, comment or critique, and a dedication. Whoever's in third will get a free graphic and a dedication. And an honorable mention will have their choice of a free graphic or comments.
Now here's the prompt: Create a one-shot -the amount of pages or words don't matter- in POV of any character of your choosing or create an alternate ending the way you see My Little Decoy ending. You can submit it by private messaging me the document you wrote it in, or maybe even publish it on wattpad if you're really proud of it. Just make sure to dedicate the chapter to me so I can see. There are no strict rules rather than hand it in before the deadline on January 30th, 2014.
Winners will be decided either after the deadline or when My Little Decoy is finished.
Hope to see you all participate, and I can't wait to read your one-shots! :D If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask.
Also, have a merry, merry Christmas and a happy new year! I just freaking love Christmas. Hope your holidays are fantastic!
Comment, vote, promote!
Stay lovely,
Isabelle