Page 3 of A Dark Melody

“Maybe avoid the booze before the show,” She says instead, “Haunting Memoriesis about to take the stage, so you haveabout ninety minutes until show time.” Her voice is flippant as she takes a step toward the door, her business casual shoes clapping on the floor. “Might want to come out of hiding and mingle a little. Have some fun.”

“Yeah. Okay.” I say, still watching her reflection in the mirror.

“See you out there.” She says, clearing up any confusion I could have that she meant that as a recommendation. She meant her words as a direct order.

Running my fingers under my eyes, I remove any last-minute eyeliner smudges. I picked up my lipstick and put on one last coat of the beautiful matte red color before picking up the vial Sue left on the table.

The best part about getting my drugs from my manager was I could always count on them being pure. Plus, the vials she had always came with a little spoon attached to the top, saving me from needing a straw or a key.

I sniff two small spoonfuls before sliding the rest of the vial into the pocket of my skirt.

I stand up to use the full-length mirror to do one final check before going out.

I’m wearing a black miniskirt. I adjust it slightly. The black halter top I’m wearing barely restrains my tits and shows off most of my pale, flat stomach. The whole look is topped off with fishnet stockings and black heel boots.

My dyed, jet-black hair is straightened and hangs just past my shoulders, held in place with a ton of hair spray so not a strand will go out of place.

My eye shadow is done smokey. Normally pink lips are painted a bright ruby red.

The girl in the mirror certainly looks the part of a rock star. Now it’s time to go out there and play the part.

Time to be charming, flirty, and eccentric. Time to be the life of the party. To smile, laugh, and get along with everyone.

My chest tightens, and my lungs constrict too fast. I ball my hands into a fist. I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this.

My breathing comes in ragged gasps. Heart pounding in my chest, a mixture of the coke and panic.

I would take a heart attack right now, joyfully. But I’ve never been that lucky.

I hold my breath and count to ten, letting it out in a slow, steady exhale, as the therapist told me to.

I don’t have a choice. I have to go out there. I have to play the part. It is expected of me, required of me.

I’ve done this hundreds of times before. I can do this.

I look in the mirror one last time, forcing my lips to curl into a smile. I let out a deep breath. I can survive this.

I walk to the door and open it, stepping out into the hallway. Marching down the hall with my head held high, I steadfastly ignore the bathroom behind me. Sue would surely know if I went in there and scold me.

I wander around the backstage area, mingling with some of the people I sort-of-know. I make small talk over the sound of the second band playing. I smile. I laugh at their jokes. I play the part well. No one can tell I don’t want to be here.

Bottles of liquor get passed around, and I take sips to avoid adding fuel to the pregnancy rumors. Everything starts getting fuzzy, and I realize that somehow, I have lost track of how much alcohol has been consumed. My stomach starts doing somersaults, the alcohol and bile doing some kind of waltz in it. The lack of food wasn’t helping. I should’ve listened to Sue about staying away from the booze, but it was too late now.

I’m buzzed to all hell and in desperate need of another bump of coke.

It’s almost time for me to take the stage anyway, asHaunting Memorieshas just finished up their set. So, I wander away from the pack of people and head to my dressing room. I don’t bother checking my makeup. It’s probably slightly smudged, but I don’t have time to fix it. Plus, no one will be able to tell from the distance of the crowd.

I pull out the vial and quickly do another spoonful of coke.

I know I’m expected to be at the side of the stage right now, getting ready to go on, but I’m stalling. I don’t know why getting in front of the crowd lately has been so hard. I used to really love going out there and singing to the fans. I used to look forward to taking the stage, but lately, it’s filled me with dread. Of course, once I get out there, I feel better, but that doesn’t make getting there any easier.

I remind myself I love it. The stage is the only place I feel safe, the only place I feel confident. It’s the only reason I put up with the rumors, and the tabloids. It makes the drama worth it. It’s the reason I agreed to the arrangement with Sue. Because I couldn’t risk losing my contract, couldn’t give up the stage.

Despite it all, the ball in the pit of my stomach tightens. My lungs constrict again. The air in my lungs burns as my throat tightens, forming a knot. I swallow the lump in my throat, and a small sob escapes my mouth as my heart pounds in my chest. Water burns my eyelids as I fight back tears. I feel the alcohol and bile creeping up my throat as I fight the urge to throw up. I grip my stomach and double over in agony.

It shouldn’t be this hard.

Sue barges into my dressing room, without knocking, again.

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