Chapter Fourteen - Logan
Days go by. I can’t get what happened over the weekend out of my mind. Fucking Reese Scott isn’t just a professor here at MSU. Oh, no, the dude is completely off his fucking rocker when it comes to Wren. His grip on his sanity was lost a long time ago, if I have to guess.
I mean, who the fuck does that shit? Who makes mazes like that in their own basement, kidnaps people, and sets them loose in said mazes? I’m lucky as hell I managed to get out alive. It had to be sheer dumb luck or something; don’t ask me to do it again, because I probably wouldn’t be able to.
All to test me. Test me for Wren, like he’s the god controlling the board. It was fucking asinine, and the more I think about it, the more pissed off I get.
At least it stops me from moping. At least it makes me feel alive, reminds me that I’m still kicking, even if that box in my chest is cracked and fucked-up beyond repair. I’ve spent too long moping.
The last thing I want to do is admit Reese is right about anything.
The guy is out of his damn mind, but at the same time, he’s not wrong.
I can’t give Wren up. I can’t step back and let things continue as they are.
I need her. God, I need her so much it’s unreal, to the point where I don’t even feel like myself anymore.
I’m a different person. I’m just different.
I need to do something. I need to show her I’m serious. I’m not good at grand gestures, but that’s what I need to do. Like hell am I going to step back and let Reese have her without a fight. If he thinks I’m going to bow down like a beaten dog, he’s wrong.
Yeah, yeah, I know what he said when I came out of that basement. He wants Wren to be happy, and as long as I don’t hurt her again, he’ll let her have me. What a crock of crap. Someone who’d go to that length, I don’t think they’d be willing to stand back if Wren did choose me.
And if she doesn’t… if she doesn’t pick me, I don’t know what I’ll do. Become as insane as Reese, probably.
What if she doesn’t pick anyone? That thought remains in my head, too.
What if she never wants to choose, and we’re stuck in limbo?
Reese and I, we aren’t like the guys in the band.
My brother, Priest, and Bishop; they’re close.
They’re friends. It’s not that crazy for them to share a girl long-term.
Reese and I? I don’t know if we’d ever be on that level, if things came down to it.
I wouldn’t say I necessarily enjoy the thought of sharing her with Reese, but I wasn’t lying when I told him that it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve shared a girl.
Priest and I would share girls all the time.
He was the only one who could keep up with me when it came to that sort of thing back in the day.
Anyway, after a few days, I venture into my den, where I keep my guitars. I’ve been finding myself in the room more and more lately, although I’m usually accompanied by a pissy attitude, so I don’t really do much other than fuck around with whatever guitar I grab first.
Today, though? Today it’s different. Today I pick up my favorite electric guitar and sit in the bean bag chair.
Today I feel… different. Maybe it’s the rage toward Reese in my heart, or maybe it’s the acceptance of knowing I need to do more for Wren.
Either way, when my fingers strum that guitar, I let old instincts guide me.
And by that, I mean old instincts. As in instincts I haven’t felt in years, way before I got kicked out of Black Sacrament.
Back in the day, when there was less pressure, when it was just me and the guys fucking around in the garage, coming up with riffs and choruses to songs like nobody’s business.
Creativity used to come so easily to me. It was second nature, as it was with all of us. Before we got big, before we started to party it up every night. Before we lost ourselves in our dream to get Black Sacrament’s name out there.
It’s funny. You don’t think you’ve changed until you come face-to-face with the old version of you.
Priest, Bishop and Deacon; they’ve come full-circle now.
They have their Angel, and they seem to really care about her.
Black Sacrament has changed, but not in a bad way; I recognize that now. Not something I could’ve said before.
But I get it. God, I fucking get it. The right girl can change everything.
I strum mindlessly on the guitar for a while, not going for any beat in particular—at least not right away. After a while, I find myself playing the same song Wren and I sang at that karaoke bar, Godsent.
It was one of Black Sacrament’s first hits, something we wrote before we got famous. It has always been one of my favorites, and yet, as I sit there and strum along, it doesn’t sound quite right anymore. I’m not the same person I was, and even the lyrics feel empty to me.
My fingers slow to a halt. I think Godsent needs a makeover. A refresh. I haven’t been in the mood to write jack shit for years, but that mood is in me right now, and I know if I ignore it, I might lose my one and only chance, so I set the guitar aside, get up, and fetch a notebook and a pen.
I write down the old lyrics to Godsent, keeping them on the left side of the page and on the back. The right is where I’ll put the rewrite. I label the top of the page on the left as Godsent, and then I draw a line atop the right side, where a new title should sit.
Titles are always a bitch. They’re best to leave until the end, until you know what you’re working with, otherwise you might end up with a title that doesn’t quite fit the rest.
I get to work. It’s crazy how easily it comes back to me, the flow. Lyrics were always the easier part; it’s fitting them to the right guitar melody that was the hardest for me. Bishop had an ear for that stuff, and my brother was always spot-on when it came to his drum set.
It’s weird to do this by myself. I’m almost tempted to call my brother and see if he and the guys are busy, see if they want to come over for a bit. But, no. This is something I need to do myself.
This means something.
No, not just something. It means everything.
I’m up all night with no help from any sort of caffeine.
I don’t need it. The new lyrics flow out of me like magic, and all the while I keep a vivid picture of Wren in my head.
It’s like I’m the old me, inspired, and I can’t bottle up the inspiration and save it for later. It needs to be used right now.
It’ll take me a while to figure out the right guitar riffs to match with the lyrics, but with the lyrics down, I’ll have a much easier time putting things together. And, what’s more? By the time the sunlight shines in, the lyrics are done and polished, and I even have a title.
Soulfire.