Page 27 of Never To Suffer

The words siton the screen, waiting for me to press the button and send it off to the atmosphere or wherever those things go. The words stare at me like they have for the last three hours, and that after I spent two hours trying to think of what to say, deleting messages, and retyping them.

Skylar, we miss you. Come home?

My stomach knots, but I’m not sure if I’m more scared of them answering, or terrified that theywon’t. It’s why I haven’t tried to contact them before today; I’m not sure I could handle rejection from them. The simple act of not contacting them gave me permission to let my imagination run wild with possibilities. Anything I dreamed for them. But also, any nightmare. But even the nightmares weren’t as hard to process as rejection.

They didn’t altogether reject us; they never gave us a chance to see what would happen. For Skylar Beck, the term ‘complicated relationship’doesn’t even come close to scratching the surface of their situation. But deep down, Xander and I always knew we would come back to them, even if it took time. But do they feel the same way?

That’s the deciding factor in my back-and-forth game of send or don’t send. They’re worth more than a shot. I press send, turn off my phone, and try to take a nap. Skylar’s skills would elevate the band and bring out the best in all of us; they might do even more for Xander and I.

Every bone in my body snaps and groans as we climb out of the van and get slapped in the face with a level of humidity none of us are used to. I can feel my scalp cringing, so I grab my beanie and tug it down over my ears. I’m from Los Angeles, we don’t handle rain and wet conditions well. I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder before helping Noah get her gear out of the back. Once we have it all stacked by the side of the van, we all stand around and take in the motel.

We’re going to die before this stupid contest even starts.

The ominous glow of the vacancy sign reminds me of Psycho, and the no in front of it has a persistent flash that sends either the right message or the wrong, depending on how ready you are to meet your maker. All the windows have a film to them so thick it turns my stomach. And some doors sport dents large enough to see from the parking lot.

“Shit, we’re going to end up dismembered in a bathtub here tonight, gang. Good knowing you all.” Connor echoes the thoughts in my head as he swallows the lump in his throat. He self-soothes by twirling his drumsticks between his fingers, and I’m jealous that he at least has a method. “Well, no point in waiting around. Shall we?”

“I go to my forefathers—” I whisper, but he only stares at me. “Lord of the—never mind. Read a book, Connor.”

I dig my phone out of my pocket, turn it on, and find only two bars of reception—nothing from Sky.

“I don’t think we can check into the death resort until—” Noah’s cut off by tires crunching on the blacktop. We all spin around to see the shiny new Lexus pull up with its dark, tinted windows. I’ve seen this movie before and I’m not ready for the chase scene through the cornfield. Masked men with chainsaws are only fun on screen. The door opens and my heart races while I glance between us, trying to decide which of us has the chops to make the cut as the final girl.

The collective sigh of relief we all breathe when Todd, the new bassist, climbs out, turns to groans once we recognize him. I’m not sure which one of us will swing on him first, but it’s going to happen. Connor said he’s betting on me, but it might be a joint effort if he keeps this up.

“Hey, kids! We ready to rock?” He smirks, leaning against the car. “Did you guys fight a bear? And lose? Also, why the hell are you staying at the Bates Motel?”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad! It’s… charming. Quaint!” Connor tries, but can’t even convince himself. “This isn’t what they showed on the website, bro.”

“Whatever, man, we’re only sleeping here.” Noah says, watching Connor jog to the office before narrowing her eyes at Todd. “Wait, what do you mean when you said why arewestaying here? That implies you’re not.”

“I got a room in a less sketchy part of town. I’m not planning on dying here.”

“Uhm, guys?” Connor mumbles as he walks back to the group. “Problem. Only one room left. I booked three!”

“What, and I mean this with the absolute least amount of respect humanly possible, the hell?” Noah’s arms fold as she rips Todd into a thousand pieces in her mind.

“Oh, yeah. I figured the band needed to save money and Connor can stay with me. Leaves you two ladies with a love nest to yourselves,” Todd winks.

“I’ll hang with you two, don’t worry. Everything’s gonna be fine,” Connor tries to convince us with his upbeat tone, and nudges my arm. “Think of it as your old apartment; we can handle that!”

“If the serial killer comes to my room, I’m giving him directions to wherever you’re sleeping tonight so I can hear you scream first, Todd.” I reply, sticking my tongue out.

I am ready to redirect all my rage and aggravated energy into rocking this stage to the ground. Until Todd walked into the green room fifteen minutes before our set. No apology, no explanation, not even a boatload of bullshit excuses because, according to him, this is acceptable. Just when I don’t believe it can get worse, it continues getting worse.

“Oh, cool, you’re here. Where were you, man?” Connor claps the guy on the back—all smiles and happiness. I’m convinced he’s high until he leans in and gives Todd a kiss that borders on pornographic, complete with Connor’s soft whimper as Todd pulls away with a crooked smirk.

“Get a room—oh wait, you already have one, don’t you?” I quip. “So, what do I call you on stage?”

He searches the room, only to realize I’m talking to him. “Uhm, Todd?”

“Just Todd? Like I’m going on stage in front of a crowd ready to rock, and I’m supposed to say ‘and on bass,Todd’ like it’s all fine and we’re cool with it?”

“I mean, itismy name,” he scoffs, putting in a fake nose ring and eyebrow piercings before slurping down more of his iced coffee. “Rory said you guys would be dicks. I should have listened to her.”

That’s when I snap. Every rational, calm, fun part of me has taken shelter in the shadows, letting the other, darker emotions slither in and take control. My nails dig into the palm of my hand until I feel a warmth drip down my finger, and the heat coming off me could start a fire, I’m sure of it. I storm across the room and smack the cup out of his hand. It hits the floor, causing the top to come off and ice to fly everywhere. The cold, milky drink drips down my boots, which only adds to the raging sun burning in me.

“What the hell is your problem?” he has the audacity to ask.

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