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Default Wolf's Song Challenges - Rated G to PG-13 - 08-25-2012, 10:15 AM

By "Song Challenges" I mean short stories inspired by music. I'm a very aural person - phrases and images get stuck in my head while listening to music and sometimes it gets away from me. I may have to split these into two. A lot.

-----------Seize the Day – Avenged Sevenfold -----------

Her hands shook as she loosened the tourniquet on her arm, the cool drug in her blood running through her veins more freely as she relaxed against the alley’s brick wall. Her head rested against the rusty dumpster to her side as she pressed her hand against it, the nausea going away as the heroin kicked in, and she closed her eyes, exhaling.

“Carin?” The voice was one she hadn’t heard in what felt like ages and she struggled to lift her eyelids, squinting at the figure in front of her. The man’s skin was dark – though that was probably just the sunlight – and his hair seemed to have orange streaks in it. “Holy hell, Carin.” He knelt in front of her and she felt ill again; she never wanted her old band mates to see her like this. Especially not Hani, their drummer; he’d been the youngest when they’d started at seventeen, Carin was twenty at the time and the guitarist and bassist being twins at eighteen. “What are you doing out here?”

“G-Go away,” she mumbled. He ignored her demand and hooked his arms under her armpits, picking her up with little trouble and hugging her tight to him. “Hani, just leave me alone, don’t want you to see me like this…”

“Come on.” He picked her up in his arms and she just rested her head limply against his shoulder, not really feeling like fighting him. F*ck, that must’ve been stronger smack than what she was used to, everything felt like it was going really, really slow. Hani didn’t live too far away, and she felt like an absolute moron for picking the alley right outside his apartment building to shoot up in.

His apartment was small and fairly dull, she noticed in her daze, walls bare except for a handful of pictures in frames. Pictures of the band in their heyday. She smiled dizzily and grabbed his shirt when he put her down on the couch, muttering something he couldn’t hear. “I’ll get you something to eat.” He knelt down in front of her and brushed her dirty, matted hair out of her face. She looked absolutely pathetic: the pink streaks in her hair had grown out and were hardly visible under the grime, her face filthy and smeared with dirt, her clothes tattered and her white boots the only thing that looked as though they’d survived the years. Her glazed blue eyes picked up little random details about him; his eyes were still deep green, he’d finally stopped wearing the yellow contacts. He still had the orange tiger stripe tattoos on his arms (always joking he was black with orange stripes), the same colored streaks were still in his hair, and he still had the d*mn tiger’s tooth earring hanging from his ear. He said he’d gotten it from his grandfather, back when the man had legally hunted tigers. “Maybe you should get a bath first.”

“No, food sounds nice,” she pleaded. “D-Do... do you still remember how to cook that spicy chicken you always made when we were on tour?” He smiled and pushed some of her dirty hair over her ear.

“ ‘Course I do. You’re the one who taught me how.” He made her sit up and took both her hands.

“… yay,” she whispered.

“But first, I want you to wash up. You need any help?” He helped her stand up and she swayed a little on the spot, leaning into him and shutting her eyes. Hani tilted her head back and checked her eyes; she wasn’t overdosing but she was fairly loaded. “Yeah, you do. Come on, my sister left some clothes here you can borrow.” He hooked her arm over his shoulder – wow, he’d gotten tall, she realized – and half carried her into the bathroom, sitting her down on the edge of the low tub. She slumped forward and rested her head on the wall while he grabbed the clean clothes and when he came back, she’d curled up and fallen asleep in the tub. He shook his head and picked her back up, sitting her again and shaking her lightly. “Come on, Carin.” She moaned in displeasure and shook her head, her chin against her chest. He sighed and tilted her head over, turning on the hot and cold water knobs and grabbing the cup he usually used to wash his cat. He dumped some water over her head to wet her hair. She whined and shook her head, just wanting to nap, but as he scrubbed her head with some kind of really nice-smelling shampoo, she stopped fighting it and just went along with it.

“Probably need to get my hair cut,” she said at length, spitting water out as he rinsed her hair, and when his fingers got stuck in some bad knots he grunted an agreement. “I don’t care if it’s uneven, Hani, just chop it.” He nodded.

“I’ll do that later.” He dried his hands off on a towel. “Can you handle washing yourself off?”

“I think so.” She managed to pull her jacket and shirt off and threw them on the floor. He picked them up and tucked them into the garbage.

“There’s soap and body wash on the shelves to your right, a loofah hanging on a hook in front of you and there’s wash rags under the sink.” He tousled her wet hair and left the bathroom, shutting the door most of the way but keeping it cracked open just enough so he could keep an ear on her.

It was hard to see her this way. The band, Id and Ego, had broken up six years ago – Hani had only been twenty three and had been severely disappointed in his band mates for letting things get as bad as they had. The bassist had died in a car wreck while driving drunk and the guitarist was to this day in a coma from a brain injury after pulling a stupid stunt. Carin had seemed to be the only other straight-laced member of the band. At least, until now.

After he put the chicken in the fridge to let it marinate for a little bit, he heard footsteps and Carin walked into the kitchen, absolutely swamped under the bathrobe she’d found hanging on the back of the bathroom door. She’d cut off most of her hair below the ears and she looked tired, now that all the filth was gone. She sniffed weakly and smiled. “That smells f*cking awesome, kid.”

“You know you can’t call me that anymore.” He laughed though and poured some of the hot tea he’d made for her into a mug. “Sugar, milk, anything?”

“Honey if you’ve got it.” She sat down at the little kitchen table, resting her arms on it. She was still shaking, but she’d calmed down a little. “You still have your diabetes or did you try that experimental pump they invented a few years back?”

“It’s called, I eat normal now.” He put the mug of tea in front of her and she quickly chugged it down, gasping and putting it back down when she realized it was scalding her mouth. He chuckled and wiped her mouth off with the back of his hand without thinking about it; he spent much of his time helping the disabled at the hospital his sister worked at. “I still get shakes and I pass out now and then, but I can pretty much eat whatever as long as I don’t eat a lot of it. Don’t really eat chocolate a whole lot anymore, though, that really sc'rews me up.” He sat down across from her with a glass of ice water. They sat in silence for a while, before Carin finally spoke up.



I stare at the girl in the mirror: T-shirt, torn up jeans, no beauty queen.
But the way that you see me, you get underneath me, and all my defenses just fall away, fall away.
I am beautiful with you, even in the darkest part of me. I am beautiful with you;
Make it feel the way it's supposed to be!

You're here with me: Just show me this and I'll believe I am beautiful with you!
Halestorm

Last edited by Silent_Wolf : 08-25-2012 at 10:19 AM.
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