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“Are you okay?”
I nod, unable to form the words.
But I don’t have to because she knows. Her fingers run up and down my arm. Her soft touch makes my heartbeat and breathing slow down.
“I’m so sorry for waking you up,” I finally whisper, breaking the silence.
“It’s fine. You were thrashing, and I was worried about you, so I figured I’d wake you up.”
“You did the right thing.” I sit upright and lean against the headboard, pulling Penelope along with me. She doesn’t protest the change. Instead, she settles in my lap, her head resting against my chest.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks gently, placing her palm over my heart.
I run my hand over my sweaty forehead, pushing the strands back.
No, I didn’t want to talk about it.
“You never asked me why I was here,” I say instead of answering her question.
“We’re all entitled to our secrets Sebastian. Whatever it was, it must have been pretty bad if you’ve decided to leave all you know and come here, and I’m so sorry for that.” She tilts her head back, the moonlight peeking through the curtains illuminating her face and making her eyes seem darker than usual. “If and when you want to share it with me, I’ll be here to listen.”
I just stare at her as her words echo in the quiet room. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by her answer. After all, she is one of the rare people who doesn’t seem the least bit interested in Bash Black, the bad boy rockstar. She barely ever mentions my career. My music, yes, but not my career. And yet, a part of me is surprised because I’d never been given something so simple as time to make my own choice.
Maybe that was the reason why when I opened my mouth, the truth spilled from my lips.
“Last spring during the tour…” The lump forms in my throat, the nightmare still vivid in my mind. I clear my throat, pushing the emotions back before confessing quietly, “One of my best friends died.”
I always thought that saying it out loud would make the guilt feel stronger, more suffocating, but it was the complete opposite. It’s as if the weight has been lifted off my shoulders by admitting the truth.
“Oh, Sebastian. I didn’t know…”
“Nobody knows,” I admit, the memories pulling me back into that room.
“Was that Christian?”
My body goes stiff at the sound of his name coming from her lips. “How did you—”
“You called out his name in your sleep.”
I nod absentmindedly, willing my body to relax.
“It happened just before the concert. We were backstage, preparing to go out.” My mouth goes dry as the memories come back in a rush. A lump forms in my throat, but I force it down. “It was just a normal day at work for us until it wasn’t.”
Penelope’s hand grips me tighter, pulling me back to the present. My lifeline.
“The fucked up part is, it’s not the first time something like that happened. My dad died of an overdose when I was a kid. I remember seeing his body in his studio before the paramedics took him out. I should have known better,” I spit out, the words leaving a bitter taste on my tongue. “I did know better, but I thought I was invincible. That I had it under control.”
“Sebastian, it’s not your fau—”
“But it is. There were women, alcohol, and drugs. So much alcohol and drugs. Looking back with a clear head, I realized how twisted it all was. It started off pretty innocent, just some weed to take the edge off. There were so many people who depended on me. The people at the label, my mom, the fans, the fucking legacy I had to uphold.
“The longer I was in that world, the harder it became to stay myself. Before I knew what was happening, weed was replaced by ecstasy, LSD, and on the hard days, when you’re months into the tour and don’t know which city you’re waking up in because it all becomes a blur, heroine. I knew it was wrong, but I thought I had it under control. Besides, everybody was doing it, and they seemed fine. It was just something to take the edge off. At least, that’s what I thought. It was what I was trying to convince myself of.”
I could still see it in my head. The images were blurry from all the alcohol and drugs, but I couldn’t erase them from my mind.
“What happened with Christian?” Penelope asks gently. If she had an opinion on what I was telling her, she didn’t let it show on her face. There was no judgment, just sorrow.
“Chris went to the bathroom. Nothing unusual, really, until there was a loud bang. I went to see what was happening, but when I found him…”
