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Hate, fear, pain, love
Don’t you know what you’ve done?
Sparrow.”
A guy attempted to grab me when I carved a space out for myself against the front rail in front of the stage, but a single look from me had him movingfaraway.
What now?An angry voice asked in my head, and the whisper of my darkness coming alive in the pit of my stomach warmed the chilled blood in my veins. I wanted to jump this fucking railing, climb up on stage and get my fist super acquainted with his jaw, but, I also didn’t want him to stop singing.
Caught between warring desires, I stood there, smushed against the rail, sandwiched on both sides by screaming girls whose worst day probably looked something like a busted heel and a declined credit card, unable to do a damn thing as he sang of his Sparrow.
Me.
In that voice.
The one I should have recognized the very first moment he spoke. And maybe I had, but I’d denied just like I was trying to convince myself still that it wasn’t true. Except, there was a part of me, however small, that wanted it to be true now, too.
However impossible it seemed.
It also felt right, in a way that was so so fucking wrong.
Confusing didn’t even begin to cover this.
Maybe it was my lack of enthusiasm. Or my lack of movement that set me apart from the others, but something drew his eye to mine, and I saw the moment he recognized me.
A muscle in my jaw ticked at the shock on his face, and my anger fizzled out when some emotion much stronger flashed in his white eyes.
He sang the last line, his eyes never leaving mine.
“She’s the spark,
I’m drenched in gasoline
…I can’t wait…
….I can’t fucking wait to burn.”
He stepped back from the mic, back from the black light to a raucous jeering of applause, until he vanished into the darkness backstage.
He wouldn’t get away that easily.
Not a fucking chance.
I hopped the rail and kept low, racing across the base of the stage to the narrow corridor leading around to where I assumed the dressing rooms were.
“Hey!” A security guard bellowed somewhere behind me but I didn’t stop, ducking below a velvet rope barrier.
Another guard ahead moved to mid-hallway, blocking my path.
“Now turn around, you don’t want to get yourself arrest—”
I ran the last three steps, faking to the right so that I could clock him on his left temple, sending him down in a useless heap of overpaid muscle.
Nothing was going to stop me.
CorvusmotherfuckingJames had some explaining to do.
My phone screenblared with missed texts and calls, dropped off in the private dressing room by Maxine sometime during the show. She was fucking lucky she wasn’t here or I might have had to murder someone tonight.
