Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Makeup
There was a quiet knock on the door. Ashley stirred in her sleep but didn't quite awaken. Her mom cautiously stepped into her room and nudged her shoulder until she opened her eyes.
"Ashley? Are you awake?" she asked, voice sounding strained. Ashley slowly sat up, glancing at her nearby clock.
"Mom, it's three in the morning. What's up?"
"It's your friends, Liz and Kyle. There was a car crash, and..." She couldn't finish. Ashley's eyes started tearing up instantly, and before she knew it she was crying hysterically. How could this have happened to her? Just a few hours ago they were driving down the road, talking and laughing. But now they were both gone.
Ashley didn't know how long she cried. She woke up around seven as usual, not even aware that she had fallen asleep. For a moment she lay still in a mental fog, until the memory of last night's events hit her like a train wreck. She was too exhausted to start crying, but felt the sadness weighing her down like lead. She rose from her bed and went into the bathroom, cleaning the tear-streaked makeup off of her face. In its place she wore plain black eyeliner and a deep shade of eye shadow to hide the redness around her eyes. No fancy makeup today.
She dressed for work, going through her routine as though nothing had happened. She felt empty, like a part of her heart had been ripped away from her.
Ashley slowly proceeded downstairs, unwilling to face the day ahead but knowing she had to anyway.
"Ashley, why don't you go back to bed? You don't have to go to work today," said her mom, rising from her place at the table.
"It's okay, mom. I need a distraction," she said morosely, grabbing a piece of bread and tossing it in the toaster. Her parents exchanged glances. Most of the time she just grabbed an energy bar. She ate halfheartedly and asked if her mom would drive her to work. She didn't think she could face that kind of stress just yet.
She entered the store, seeing Brian, a co-worker, already stocking the shelves.
"Hey, Ash. Here's the new Killers CD you reserved," he said, showing it to her and setting it on the counter. She sat at her place behind the counter and shoved it back toward him.
"Keep it," she muttered. He looked at her with wide eyes.
"Are you kidding? You worked overtime to get enough to reserve that! What's wrong with you?" Ashley looked away, stung by his words.
"Kyle and Liz died in a car accident early this morning." Brian's face turned to shock.
"Why haven't I heard about this yet?" Ashley shook her head, still in disbelief.
"You should take the day off. You won't be doing yourself any good by staying here," he offered. She refused.
Ashley turned the music down so that she could barely hear it, and left the TV off all day. There were no customers until around noon, and the one that did show up didn't really qualify.
The bell at the front of the store rang, and Frank entered, looking over his shoulder nervously before removing his dark sunglasses. He approached Ashley with a worried look.
"Ashley, we need your help."
"Why?"
"Come with me; I'll explain on the way." She glanced at Brian, who was in disbelief that one of his favorite band members was standing five feet away from him. He regained consciousness and nodded, and she smiled gratefully, following Frank out to his car as he put his sunglasses back on. Better to not be recognized at a time like this.
"What's going on here? And why did you end up being the one to come get me?" she asked after a few minutes.
"We're being sued. Seems your boyfriend's parents blame us for the accident. Gerard's dealing with the press, as usual. And I'm the only one of us who hasn't been arrested for DUI. Well, recently at least." Ashley was too worried to smile.
They reached the stadium in a few minutes, and Frank parked behind it where the tour bus was. A large crowd of cameraman-wielding reporters assaulted the car, giving Gerard just enough time to breathe before the two of them stepped out of the car. Frank removed his sunglasses, revealing a glare. Ashley was nervous; she had never been in the spotlight before, and definitely had never had to answer thirty questions at once. Frank helped her to the safety of the tour bus, where the rest of the band members were sitting around. None of them were talking, and all stared blankly at her when she entered.
"It's probably safest to wait in here until the press decides they want to talk to you," said Frank. Ashley slowly climbed the three steps and found a spot on the sofa. The others seemed to be on edge, awaiting the outcome. No one in the bus could see how it was the band's fault, Ashley included.
"How could an accident be considered your fault?" she asked as the front door of the bus opened and Gerard entered.
"Apparently we ended our concert a little later than usual, and meeting you guys took up even more time. He fell asleep at the wheel," said a now-sober Ray.
"It's not just that," added Gerard, glad to be temporarily rid of the press. "Some people can't accept tragedy. They think someone has to be at fault. And the Stalkerazzi wants to talk to you, Ashley." He went to the back of the bus and collapsed on his bed, thankful for the break. Ashley gulped and nervously opened the door to the large crowd of reporters. Camera flashes blinded her vision momentarily, and she cautiously stepped down the stairs.
"Ms. Taylor, do you believe this accident is the band's fault?" asked one man, shoving a microphone in her face.
"No, it was an accident. They didn't have anything to do with it," she said, saying the first thing that came to mind.
"But isn't it true that if you hadn't gone to the concert, you and your friends wouldn't have been out that late and the crash would not have occurred?" asked another.
"I don't think that's necessarily true. I've been out that late before."
"Do you believe the driver made a poor decision?" Ashley's hand curled into an angry fist.
"It was an accident. Kyle didn't do anything wrong. It was just an accident." She asked for no further questions before the tears started to fall once again, and went back inside the bus. She sat on the sofa next to Bob and fell apart. This was too much for her to handle.
The band members exchanged glances. What were they supposed to do?
"It's not your fault the press is stupid. They have absolutely no emotions," said Bob, handing her a box of Kleenex Ray threw to him.
"What if they were right?" she asked between sobs. "What if Kyle did do something stupid, and it might not have happened if we hadn't gone to the concert?" She blew her nose and tried to calm down. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."
"Don't worry about it. We know there's people out there who don't like us," said Frank. A small plastic cylinder went flying through the air and landed with a rattling sound next to her. She picked it up, and Bob caught the bottle of water following soon after before it did any damage.
"What's this?" she asked, her vision too watery and blurred to read clearly.
"Gerard's pills," muttered Bob with a frown. He glanced at the singer, who was already heading back down the hallway.
"Pills for what?"
"He's a mental case," called Mikey, receiving a shoe to the head courtesy of his brother. Bob sighed.
"It's lithium orotate. While Mikey was correct in that it's usually used to treat bipolar or depressed people, this is a weaker concentration. Gerard gets really nasty migraines from time to time." Ashley dried the rest of her tears and picked up the bottle, frowning slightly.
"Isn't it a bad idea to take other people's prescription medicines?"
"Do you want to feel better or not?" called Gerard. She turned the bottle over in her hands thoughtfully, reading the name again and again.
"It's your choice," he said with a shrug. Ashley sighed.
"One couldn't hurt," she said decidedly, unscrewing the lid and drawing out one white pill. It was half the size of her thumb.
"Half," said Bob, taking the pill over to the counter and slicing it in half. He handed half to her and watched as she took it. She seemed nervous about it, but relieved at the same time.
"Keep the rest of it; it won't kill you," said Gerard. Ashley wrapped the pill in a Kleenex and placed it in her pocket. She wasn't entirely sure about that.
---
Note: Something similar to this happened to my friend Stephanie. Her older sister died in a car crash in June of last year. Be careful out there, guys. Stuff like this actually DOES happen.
"Ashley? Are you awake?" she asked, voice sounding strained. Ashley slowly sat up, glancing at her nearby clock.
"Mom, it's three in the morning. What's up?"
"It's your friends, Liz and Kyle. There was a car crash, and..." She couldn't finish. Ashley's eyes started tearing up instantly, and before she knew it she was crying hysterically. How could this have happened to her? Just a few hours ago they were driving down the road, talking and laughing. But now they were both gone.
Ashley didn't know how long she cried. She woke up around seven as usual, not even aware that she had fallen asleep. For a moment she lay still in a mental fog, until the memory of last night's events hit her like a train wreck. She was too exhausted to start crying, but felt the sadness weighing her down like lead. She rose from her bed and went into the bathroom, cleaning the tear-streaked makeup off of her face. In its place she wore plain black eyeliner and a deep shade of eye shadow to hide the redness around her eyes. No fancy makeup today.
She dressed for work, going through her routine as though nothing had happened. She felt empty, like a part of her heart had been ripped away from her.
Ashley slowly proceeded downstairs, unwilling to face the day ahead but knowing she had to anyway.
"Ashley, why don't you go back to bed? You don't have to go to work today," said her mom, rising from her place at the table.
"It's okay, mom. I need a distraction," she said morosely, grabbing a piece of bread and tossing it in the toaster. Her parents exchanged glances. Most of the time she just grabbed an energy bar. She ate halfheartedly and asked if her mom would drive her to work. She didn't think she could face that kind of stress just yet.
She entered the store, seeing Brian, a co-worker, already stocking the shelves.
"Hey, Ash. Here's the new Killers CD you reserved," he said, showing it to her and setting it on the counter. She sat at her place behind the counter and shoved it back toward him.
"Keep it," she muttered. He looked at her with wide eyes.
"Are you kidding? You worked overtime to get enough to reserve that! What's wrong with you?" Ashley looked away, stung by his words.
"Kyle and Liz died in a car accident early this morning." Brian's face turned to shock.
"Why haven't I heard about this yet?" Ashley shook her head, still in disbelief.
"You should take the day off. You won't be doing yourself any good by staying here," he offered. She refused.
Ashley turned the music down so that she could barely hear it, and left the TV off all day. There were no customers until around noon, and the one that did show up didn't really qualify.
The bell at the front of the store rang, and Frank entered, looking over his shoulder nervously before removing his dark sunglasses. He approached Ashley with a worried look.
"Ashley, we need your help."
"Why?"
"Come with me; I'll explain on the way." She glanced at Brian, who was in disbelief that one of his favorite band members was standing five feet away from him. He regained consciousness and nodded, and she smiled gratefully, following Frank out to his car as he put his sunglasses back on. Better to not be recognized at a time like this.
"What's going on here? And why did you end up being the one to come get me?" she asked after a few minutes.
"We're being sued. Seems your boyfriend's parents blame us for the accident. Gerard's dealing with the press, as usual. And I'm the only one of us who hasn't been arrested for DUI. Well, recently at least." Ashley was too worried to smile.
They reached the stadium in a few minutes, and Frank parked behind it where the tour bus was. A large crowd of cameraman-wielding reporters assaulted the car, giving Gerard just enough time to breathe before the two of them stepped out of the car. Frank removed his sunglasses, revealing a glare. Ashley was nervous; she had never been in the spotlight before, and definitely had never had to answer thirty questions at once. Frank helped her to the safety of the tour bus, where the rest of the band members were sitting around. None of them were talking, and all stared blankly at her when she entered.
"It's probably safest to wait in here until the press decides they want to talk to you," said Frank. Ashley slowly climbed the three steps and found a spot on the sofa. The others seemed to be on edge, awaiting the outcome. No one in the bus could see how it was the band's fault, Ashley included.
"How could an accident be considered your fault?" she asked as the front door of the bus opened and Gerard entered.
"Apparently we ended our concert a little later than usual, and meeting you guys took up even more time. He fell asleep at the wheel," said a now-sober Ray.
"It's not just that," added Gerard, glad to be temporarily rid of the press. "Some people can't accept tragedy. They think someone has to be at fault. And the Stalkerazzi wants to talk to you, Ashley." He went to the back of the bus and collapsed on his bed, thankful for the break. Ashley gulped and nervously opened the door to the large crowd of reporters. Camera flashes blinded her vision momentarily, and she cautiously stepped down the stairs.
"Ms. Taylor, do you believe this accident is the band's fault?" asked one man, shoving a microphone in her face.
"No, it was an accident. They didn't have anything to do with it," she said, saying the first thing that came to mind.
"But isn't it true that if you hadn't gone to the concert, you and your friends wouldn't have been out that late and the crash would not have occurred?" asked another.
"I don't think that's necessarily true. I've been out that late before."
"Do you believe the driver made a poor decision?" Ashley's hand curled into an angry fist.
"It was an accident. Kyle didn't do anything wrong. It was just an accident." She asked for no further questions before the tears started to fall once again, and went back inside the bus. She sat on the sofa next to Bob and fell apart. This was too much for her to handle.
The band members exchanged glances. What were they supposed to do?
"It's not your fault the press is stupid. They have absolutely no emotions," said Bob, handing her a box of Kleenex Ray threw to him.
"What if they were right?" she asked between sobs. "What if Kyle did do something stupid, and it might not have happened if we hadn't gone to the concert?" She blew her nose and tried to calm down. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."
"Don't worry about it. We know there's people out there who don't like us," said Frank. A small plastic cylinder went flying through the air and landed with a rattling sound next to her. She picked it up, and Bob caught the bottle of water following soon after before it did any damage.
"What's this?" she asked, her vision too watery and blurred to read clearly.
"Gerard's pills," muttered Bob with a frown. He glanced at the singer, who was already heading back down the hallway.
"Pills for what?"
"He's a mental case," called Mikey, receiving a shoe to the head courtesy of his brother. Bob sighed.
"It's lithium orotate. While Mikey was correct in that it's usually used to treat bipolar or depressed people, this is a weaker concentration. Gerard gets really nasty migraines from time to time." Ashley dried the rest of her tears and picked up the bottle, frowning slightly.
"Isn't it a bad idea to take other people's prescription medicines?"
"Do you want to feel better or not?" called Gerard. She turned the bottle over in her hands thoughtfully, reading the name again and again.
"It's your choice," he said with a shrug. Ashley sighed.
"One couldn't hurt," she said decidedly, unscrewing the lid and drawing out one white pill. It was half the size of her thumb.
"Half," said Bob, taking the pill over to the counter and slicing it in half. He handed half to her and watched as she took it. She seemed nervous about it, but relieved at the same time.
"Keep the rest of it; it won't kill you," said Gerard. Ashley wrapped the pill in a Kleenex and placed it in her pocket. She wasn't entirely sure about that.
---
Note: Something similar to this happened to my friend Stephanie. Her older sister died in a car crash in June of last year. Be careful out there, guys. Stuff like this actually DOES happen.
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