An interesting turn of events...
A brilliant white light flashed under my eyelids before they snapped opened, giving way to a beautiful young brunette hovering over me. A smile brightened her features. Was I dead? Did I really die in an Atreyu pit?
"Can you tell me your name?" She asked softly as she shined a small light into my left eye, then my right.
"Are you an angel?" An airy laugh escaped her lips.
"No. I'm not an angel. Now, can you remember your name?" I nodded.
"Lola Renee Trohman." She grinned.
"And the date?"
"June 21st 2005."
"Very good. Can you sit up for me?" As I did what she asked, I noticed I was lying on a bed-esque contraption. I swung my legs over the side and smiled as they dangled carelessly. A large tent stood over us, sheltering us from the sun.
"This is the first-aid station, huh?" The woman nodded as she set a large bandage, gauze, and some antiseptic down on the bed next to me.
"You've got a pretty nice sized gash on your head. It looks worse than it actually is." She pointed to the corner of my forehead. I brought a hand to the wound, wincing at the vicious pain. A deep red liquid stained my fingertips.
"Will I need some stitches?" She shook her head as she dabbed some of the antiseptic on a piece of gauze.
"It's not deep enough to require any sutures."
"This is gonna kill, isn't it?" I asked as she brought the pungent cloth closer to my lesion.
"Oh yeah." The intense sting radiated throughout my head and down through my fingertips. I drew in a sharp breath.
"How did I get here?" I questioned, trying to keep from thinking about the acid she was pouring into my brain.
"Some little guy carried you here." I grinned. Ha, he's little.
"Where'd he go?"
"He was pretty shaken up. So I told him to go get some Gatorade."
"Gatorade?" She nodded.
"It helps with dehydration," She pulled the gauze away and tossed it in a nearby trashcan. "And he was getting on my nerves. He's adorable, but he hovers." I snickered.
"He hovers?" She nodded.
"Yeah. Ya know, like he was breathing down my neck the entire time I was trying to take your vitals. Asking me if you were going to be brain damaged or whatever." She huffed as she tucked her dark hair behind her ears. Patrick appeared from the crowd, toting an icy bottle of Gatorade.
"You're awake!" He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed tightly.
"What happened?" I asked as I happily accepted the cold beverage. The fruity liquid slid down my throat with ease.
"Some idiot crowd surfer fell on you." I rolled my eyes.
"Are you feeling nauseous, dizzy, or anything?" The woman asked as she opened the bandage and stuck it over my wound. I shook my head.
"I feel fine. I mean, my head hurts. But that's about it." She nodded.
"Well, here's some bandages and you can have the antiseptic. Keep it clean. Maybe pick up some Neosporin or Mederma to prevent scarring. Your pupils look good, you're not feeling nauseous or dizzy. I think you'll be just fine." I smiled and glanced at her nametag. It read 'CeCe' in small, intended letter across the white tag.
"Thanks CeCe." She nodded and grinned.
"If you start to feel sick or dizzy, come find me, OK?"
"Alright." I hopped off the table and said my goodbyes to the nurse.
"I told you the Atreyu pit is hardcore." He smirked down at me as we began walking back to the tour bus.
"And I totally saved your life." I rolled my eyes.
"Thank you for carrying me to the first aid tent."
"No problem. I've been working out, so it's no big deal."
"I can tell." I playfully pinched his chubby face. He, in return, swatted at my hand.
"Be nice to your saver." We made it through security and headed into the bus. We could hear commotion in the lounge. Bridget and Joe were locked in a vicious battle of wits and cunning via the GameCube.
"What happened to your head?" Bridget asked, glancing away from the game briefly. My brother paused and hurried over to inspect the damage.
"I leave you alone for a few hours and this is what happens." Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the mischievous female slowly reaching over to unplug Joe's controller.
"I'm fine. Really. It doesn't even hurt." He narrowed his eyes at me before returning to his spot on the carpet.
"Ready?" Bridget asked, an evil grin playing on her lips.
"If you mean ready to annihilate you, then yes, I'm ready." I shared a concerned look with Patrick as we sat on the couch to watch them resume their game of Mario Kart. Once unpaused, Joe's car, consisting of Donkey Kong, slowed to a stop as Bridget's Wario whizzed by effortlessly.
"Not cool. I demand a re-race!" My brother held up his sabotaged plug.
"You guys are still playing?" Pete asked as he entered the lounge with a frown upon his dark face. He didn't seem to notice nor acknowledge Patrick and me.
"Yeah. Deal with it." Bridget responded, not bothering to look at him.
"You've been hogging the GameCube all day." Her light eyes turned to angry slits.
"I'm sorry. Are you under the impression that I give a fuck? Seriously? Let me clear something up for you: I. Don't. Give. A. Fuck. Kay?" She tilted her head to the side and flashed him a sugary smile.
"Perhaps you're under the impression that you own this fucking bus. We're the band. People come to see us. Not you. So, why don't you go back to the merch tents, kay?" I watched in silence as Bridget's eyes glazed over almost unnoticeably before it was replaced with rage. She stood and approached him slowly.
"You are gonna choke on that ego. And I can't wait to see it." She gave him a sharp shove before making her exit, the slamming of the door signified it. Joe tossed his controller to the side and stood.
"Good job. Awesome. Really." He huffed, chasing after her. The bassist and current dog-house inhabitant threw his hands in the air and headed to his bunk, leaving Patrick and I looking at each other and shrugging.
"What just happened?" I asked, completely confused.
"I'm not entirely sure." There was a brief pause. "Wanna play Mario Kart?" I shook my head and got up from the couch.
"Maybe later. I should find her before she gets hold of a weapon." He chuckled slightly.
"Want company?" A smile crept across my face.
"I think I can handle her by myself. But I'll call if I need backup." I waved and headed out the door after my friend. Once I was outside, it was time to think.
If I were Bridget, where would I go?
A streak of blonde hair rushed by, a screwdriver latched to her hand.
"Hey, O!" That seemed to stop her momentarily as her blue eyes searched for the source of the voice. "Over here!" I waved like a moron, catching her attention.
"What's up?" She asked, obviously in a hurry.
"Have you seen Bridget?" A grin took hold of the sound tech's small features.
"Yeah. She was with that brother of yours. Over by the bleachers." I tilted my head, slightly unsure of her credibility.
"Bleachers?" She nodded.
"By the bathroom. You'll see 'em." And with that she bolted off to her destination, muttering something to herself. With my newfound information, I headed toward the facilities in search for those supposed bleachers. As the blonde had said, a large set of bleachers stood tall, overlooking a field.
Odd place for a concert venue, eh?
Music lovers...or band-intercourse enthusiasts-whichever--were scattered about the structure in groups. I noticed two familiar figures toward the top, sitting rather close together. The male's arm was draped across the female's back in an almost tender manner. I watched in horror, or perhaps it was shock, as my brother placed a small kiss on my new friend's temple before whispering something in her ear that seemed to cheer her up slightly.
What parallel universe did I stumble into?
As they say two's a couple, three's a crowd. I shoved my hands in my jeans pockets and strolled back to the tour bus with a peculiar smile on my face.
Patrick is gonna flip when he hears this.
The ugly wound stared at me from the mirror, challenging me to wash it with CeCe's antiseptic. Dried up blood stuck to the lesion, giving it an especially gruesome appearance.
"You don't scare me." I whispered, bringing the cleanser soaked gauze pad closer to the scab. The familiar sting pulsated once again. In the mirror, I could see the bathroom door open, giving way to a surprised Pete.
"Knock much?" I asked, still dabbing the wound.
"What happened?" He question, cocking his head to the side slightly.
"Atreyu pit." Was all I needed to say. He nodded, his mouth forming an "O"
The male stepped closer and cupped my face, his eyes fixated on the abrasion.
"It looks like it hurts." He whispered, his dark sienna eyes shifted and peered into my slate gray ones.
"Only a little." My voice was low, matching his. He carefully tilted his head downward, bringing his lips close to mine. A nauseous feeling developed into the pit of my stomach as his mouth settled on my lips. Whenever he touched me, I could feel his infidelities, I could taste her, smell her.
I pulled away abruptly, giving him a sharp slap across his face. His surprised expression mimicked mine.
"How dare you!" I spat, angrily pushing him.
"What?" He brought his hand to his face, rubbing the reddening spot where my hand had connected.
"Why are you doing this?" His wide eyes stared for a moment, not sure of how to respond.
"I still love you. And I know you still love me." I shook my head.
"You love yourself. If you loved me, we wouldn't be in this situation. We'd still be together and happy." He shook his head.
"We can be together. We can be happy." Deep down, it was impossible. I think he knew it, but didn't want to admit it.
"What kind of relationship could we possibly salvage? I'll always be wondering where you are, who you're with, if you've fucked her yet. That's no way to live. For either of us." His honeyed eyes darkened as he stepped back.
"The hell with you." He hissed, exiting the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. I plopped down on the toilet lid, allowing a gust of air to escape my lungs.
Of course I still loved him. Turning it off and on wasn't as easy for me as it seemed to be for him. A part of me will always love him. But he just wasn't that man anymore. And he never would be again.