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She scratches the back of my hand. Her nails are long and thin. I can smell the copper of my own blood before the pain hits me. I try to push her away with my shoulder, but I barely manage to. Everyone around me is engaged in a physical fight, people are throwing punches. From the corner of my eye, I can see that Alana has taken a cymbal as a shield and she’s trying to fight someone off with a drumstick, hitting them hard on the cheekbone over and over again.
I shouldn’t really crack a smile, since this is terrible, but it’s also absurd. This whole thing is absolutely fucking ridiculous. The guys–Rei, Luke, Misha, Malon–are doing their best to fight the people who are coming for the band.
But there’s no fucking way.
The guys are tall and strong, but there are so many people in the audience that are attacking us that there’s absolutely no way we’re going to be able to escape this. Undercut grabs my arm and I have no option but to snap the strap off the bass and try to swing it at her.
The bass strings sound thick and dissonant when they hit against her body. She grimaces as I push her back. I take a step toward her, yanking the cable out of the bass. The amp squeals when I do, so I don’t think it likes this, but it doesn’t matter.
I spar with this woman as if this was something I did, using the bass both as a shield and as a sword, stretching out my free arm so I can try to scratch at Undercut’s eyeballs. It doesn’t work, she puts her arms up in front of her face to stop me from hurting her, but I’m not going to fucking let her.
I continue to walk toward her, as fast as I can, until I practically push her in the pool.
She stumbles backward, looking up at me with wide eyes. For a second, they go back to the same color they were before, a deep dark brown.
I’m tempted to reach out and extend my hand toward her, to stop her from falling. But I do no such thing.
Her eyes flash red again, completely red, and my own eyes widen as I take a step back. I’m about to turn back and run to help the rest of the girls when a huge guy approaches me from behind. I can feel him breathing over my shoulder.
I try to duck when he swings at me, but there’s no way. He’s too fast. I’m too small. He’s too strong.
It’s the perfect way to make sure the punch connects with my skin. It sends me to my feet immediately. Barely managing to land on my knees, I can immediately feel the scrape on my knees. I’m vaguely aware that the bass lands in front of me, that it makes a crunching sound.
Or maybe that’s one of my fucking bones.
I don’t know.
Someone grabs me by the armpits, dragging me away from the pool. I look up to see a man I’ve never seen before, his eyes dark red, and I try to flail out of his grip.
It’s hard. He won’t let go of me, and his fingertips are digging hard into my skin. He’s really hurting me.
It doesn’t happen for long. Someone tackles him, which makes him let go of me. I turn back to see what’s going on, and see Misha kneeling over the man who just let go of me.
He’s punching him so hard, I think this has to be hurting him, too. Behind her, everyone seems to be sprawling and fighting. Misha stops punching the large man, tilting his head up to look me in the eyes. “Trine, you need to take the rest of the band and run,” he says.
“But…”
“Go upstairs. Lock yourselves in a room,” he says.
“What about you?”
“We’ll be fine,” he says breathlessly. He does not look like he’s going to be fine. There is a streak of blood on his face, falling from his lip down to his chin. The rest of his hair is stuck to his forehead, which is slick with sweat.
I keep watching him, glued to my spot on the floor. “Trine, now!”
He doesn’t have to tell me again.
I get to my feet, just barely. I’m extremely weak and I feel like I’m going to pass out, but I know I need to get the girls out of here.
It’s something I have to do.
I run into the chaos of the makeshift stage and grab Alana by the hand, pulling her away from the weird fight she’s having. Alana seems to get my meaning, since she grabs Sierra, and Sierra grabs Kelly, and Kelly grabs Bryony.
We run.
I don’t know how fast we’re running, but it has to be fast.
Behind us, I know that the boys are trying to fight the crowd who has approached us, all of them sharp and angry and with sharp teeth.
