Page 51 of Declan

His tempo slows, his band cutting out, and a steel guitar whining almost poetically as he once again sings.

You may not like these uneven edges I usually hide so well

But know they were re-honed to you shortly after I fell

I’ll follow you into the depths of hell, serve you and service you

Get on my goddamn knees and crawl to you

Every crazy thing you feel I may have done to you was only done

Because I’m completely, utterly, irrevocably, possessed by you

He plays a few more notes then stops, and I find my words and breath are caught in my throat, and my eyes burn from the sheer level of intent and feeling behind his words.

The audience doesn’t fucking care.

Up until now, they’ve quietly listened to every declaration, their intermittent shouts and cheers punctuating the pressure in my chest and twisting in my guts as he confesses his long-term obsession with me. How he actively stalked me, but that means none of our interactions were fake because they were all engineered by him and his desire to be near me.

I scoff, now completely annoyed that I am actively making excuses for his completely obsessive and insane behavior.

The lights go out again, and I scan the darkness for him. A draft hits me, misty dampness enveloping me, and I realize something strange is brewing.

The crowd is chanting my name now, and the spotlight comes on again, this time several lights illuminating one section of the stage showing a sea of flowers. The spotlights shifts again, cutting a path of light through the middle of the flowers, and Declan is there, on the far side of them, smiling at me almost nervously.

He takes one step toward me, and water falls from above in a downpour, and he walks through it, becoming completely drenched, and I can’t help but laugh at what he has done.

That sneaky son of a bitch.

He’s no longer talking as he stops in the middle of the flowers, his eyes never leaving mine, as the screaming crowd creates a din that makes my ears ring just as he has made my heart pound in my chest.

I stand there, a foot from the edge of my cage, shaking my head at him, almost unsure what the hell I’m supposed to do now. So, finally, I yell, “Let me out!”

He quickly closes the distance between us and presses his face against the metal bars, and I meet him there, grabbing onto him wherever I can reach. “The door isn’t locked, doll face,” he whispers. “You never even tried to leave me.”

Then he pushes away from the cage, and I’m shocked into silence by his confession, seemingly incapable of a response as I watch his retreating back walking slowly through the flowers.

A sob erupts from inside me, suddenly irrationally terrified that he’s literally walking away from me.

Away from us.

I push on the metal door, and sure enough, it swings open easily, and I don’t think. I race to the mic stand that’s still on the corner stage where he used it not too long ago, and I yank it free, speaking into it with no sound filling the arena.

I curse, checking that the microphone is turned on, then I look around, noting Declan is almost to the end of the stage, and my gaze scans that back wall, hoping the sound people see me.

Then the spotlight is on me, and the mic screeches briefly before I yell, “Hey. You.”

19

A Rap Battle, of Sorts

Declan

Whenmyfansaskedfor an encore, they got a motherfucking encore.

And I’ll be giving bonuses to everyone that made this whole production come together on such short notice. Sure, my production lead is currently backstage losing his mind over some of the equipment that will inevitably be ruined by the rain, but I don’t give a fuck.

This was glorious.

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