50. Charlie
Charlie
Iwalk across the parking lot and the venue looms in front of me.
My nails dig into my palms so hard I think it will break the skin.
Everyone here is in their gothic black clothes.
Girls wearing their dog collars. Mini skirts and fishnets.
Me, I’m a fuckin mess with my jean shorts, and a tank top.
I didn’t even try to put on makeup. Not even an ounce of foundation.
Just me, raw and naked, but if I’m being forced to break it off with Noah, am I really going to give a shit about how I look at this point?
My knuckles turn white as I show security my ticket, and they search through my purse and let me step into the madhouse.
The walls are black with metal wall sconce lights, glowing a dull orange throughout the entire place.
The stage is larger than the typical bar concerts Noah’s played at.
There has to be several hundred people here.
My phone vibrates in my purse, and my knuckles turn white. Brody’s name flashes across the screen, and so does Noah's.
Brody: You’re making the right choice, baby.
Charlie: Fuck you
Noah: Hey your friend is here. Did you still plan on coming? I really want to see you. I’m sorry if I did anything. Please talk to me.
I can’t even muster up the courage to message Noah back. I shove the phone into my purse. Everything hurts. My legs tremble, and my bones might break any moment. I bite my fingernails watching people stroll past me with their friends.
Brody stands out in the crowd. It’s not hard to pick out an asshole jock amongst all the gothic punks wandering around. Some were wearing beanies with the crown of thorns. The same beanie I have in my dorm.
Brody’s predatory smirk meets my gaze. There’s no soul within his eyes, just black empty sockets watching me as he leans against the wall with a red pentagram above him. He lifts a chin, using two fingers to bait me in.
Chills run all over my skin, my hair standing up at the nape of my neck.
The cold barrel of the gun is locked in my memory, and if he puts it against Noah’s head and pulls the trigger, it won’t be me with a stupid butter knife in my hand.
I will jump off a ten-story high building to find him in hell.
“Come here,” Brody purrs, checking me out as he peeks at my cleavage.
I quickly hug myself to cover them up. “You never disappoint, now do you?” He fists up the bottom of my tank top and tugs me in.
Every part of me clenches up, my shoulders tightening as he breathes me in, his hot breath at the hollow of my ear.
“Come with me.” He snatches my wrist, pulling me with a force I couldn't fight.
My feet almost slide across the slick floor, fighting against his pull, but I end up walking behind him with steps that my muscles revolt against.
Music pulses through the venue, heavy cords of guitars and drums beat relentlessly, and the hammering can’t even dull out my own heart. Brody steers me through the throng of people, my palms getting sweaty. Even though my toes are sticky and my clothes are tight around my body.
We pass by two security guards who have no care in the world other than chatting with each other.
One has their hands resting on his belt, the other one clenching his vest. They're oblivious as they laugh with each other, one throwing their head back.
My pleading eyes are invisible. My soul is screaming for help.
We slip past the bathroom and down a dingy hall where he throws up my arm, and I stumble into a janitor's closet. I trip, getting tangled up with a yellow mop bucket. My body twists in a way that cracks my back as I land on my bottom on the hard cold floor. I use my hands to back up as Brody towers over me, but I’m met with boxes of bleach, toilet paper and random cleaners.
“Stand up,” Brody demands and I crawl to the brick wall, my hands patting it down as I do what I told. My throat is so raw that I can’t even swallow the fear engulfing me.
Brody leans down into his leather captain boots, slipping out a tactical knife. It snaps open, and my lips curl down as I shake my head. Whimpering, “No...no, no, no.” He stalks forward as I merely crumble back to the floor into a puddle.
“Get up!” he snaps. He corners me, there are so many boxes and metal racks I’m wedged in here. I can’t escape without tripping over something. “You haven’t done it yet, have you? You haven’t let go of that little boyfriend of yours. I told you to end that shit with him.”
“Why are you doing this?”
The shimmering blade meets the wedge of my neck, grazing the skin.
“Why?” It’s cold on my skin. “You’re supposed to be with me.
” A hot, scorching pain appears as he barely nicks me.
“This one is nice and sharp,” he bites his lower lip, the tip of the knife going further down and brushing across my collarbone, just gentle enough to not leave a mark.
I try to calm my ragged breathing, but I’m hitching nothing but sobs.
“W-why can’t you...you...just leave me alone?
” I beg, sucking in a gasp because I’m stuck being a pawn in this twisted little game.
“Please...” My breath is uncontrollable hitches, my chest burning hot as I'm face to face with malevolence. This isn’t the Brody I met. He’s possessed by something wicked.
“I...I...” I can’t even talk as I gasp for air. “I...I...I... please don’t make me do this.” My voice falters. He ignores me, his expression going as cold as the glint of the knife following a trail to my shoulder blades, where Noah left love bites.
“We’ve been busy, huh? Letting that poser fuck you,” he sneers, his voice dripping with hate. Brody grips the base of my neck with his thick hand, his thumb pressing on my windpipe and his brown eyes are inches from my face. “What happened to your stupid rule, huh?”
I don't do anything other than swallow. “Now you’re a little slut!” He tightens his grip, and he jostles me, and my back hits the brick wall, scraping my skin.
“What did he do? Did you let him come on your stomach? Hmm?” he asks, and all I can do is blink.
“Did you let him come in that pretty little cunt of yours?”
“Yeah... I slept with him.” I admit, wrapping my fingers around his wrist, barely able to suck in a breath. “I...I love him.”
He leans closer to me, his voice dropping to a whisper, “I guess I’ll have to find him after the show.”
The weight of his words tumbles over me like a cave collapsing. I’m suffocating, both from his firm grip around my neck and the nightmare he tossed me into.
“I’ll leave him alone, but here’s the deal, baby.” He releases the grip around my neck with a shove. My skull hits the brick wall and my eyes go dark for several seconds, as I gasp for air, clutching my lungs and coughing.
“See, you’re going to dump him, and we are going into that pit where I kiss all of you in front of him while he plays.
Now go...” He licks his chapped lips, darting his eyes to the door.
I crawl over boxes, and the cardboard rips and tears as I fall over several, clambering into a run, reaching for the cold metal doorknob and hightailing it out of the closet.
This is my life, the part of a song that repeats again and again.
At some point I figured the bad things would stop repeating – I thought ending a toxic relationship would stop this loop, but he keeps coming back and I can’t escape.
I can’t breathe as I walk down the long hallway and back into the crowded venue.
People swarm into the VIP lounge buying drinks and snacks.
Then, there's the main stage. Merchandise booths are set up in every corner possible.
Finally, I see the red sign hung up on the other side of the stage directing VIP Backstage Passholders.
Clutching my shirt, I climb down the steep steps leading me to the backstage entrance where a group of people line up, waving their tickets in the security guards’ faces. I slip underneath the velvet black rope, cutting several girls in line.
“Hey! Wait your turn!” One of them plants hands on her hips, and her hair is a dingy green from the worn off blue dye that probably looked decent at some point.
“The line starts back there.”
“Ladies.” The security guard holds up his hands. “Only people on the list can get back here, I told ya’ll this.” A hefty security guard crosses his arms, spreading his legs out wide. “You aren’t on the list.”
“I should be on...on the list.” My voice falters as I say it. My mouth is dry and sour as I look at his podium with a clipboard and highlighter.
“What’s your name?” He grabs it, licking his fingers and starts to flip through the pages.
“Charlie Henderson, he might have put me down as Trouble.”
The security guard scoffs as the papers slap around. “He did put you down as Trouble.”
Of course he did, my chin trembles as he unhooks the chain blocking the backstage door.
“Go on in.” He lets me mosey past him as the girls behind me start badgering him.
My heart breaks, being torn to pieces, going through a meat shredder as we speak.
When I walk in, there are several doors with band names printed out and taped on each one.
When I find Wolves in Sheep Skin, Noah’s face is flashing in my head.
The sound of his voice telling me he loved me back.
I don’t want to do this, but I twist the doorknob, stepping in.
The air is stale, riddled with nervous energy as Noah paces back and forth along a red carpet. His band looks defeated as they lounge on the couch talking to him. My heart lurches at the sight of him, and a wave of tears comes flooding back over my raw cheeks.
“N-Noah...” I suck in a deep breath.
His dark-brown eyes gaze up and meet mine, and the color rushes back into his face as he races over towards me. My entire being tells me to let myself crumble into his chest, tell him I’m being threatened, but I take a step back, shaking my head at him.