Always end on a high note.
My throat burns.
This feels like a high.
But I’ll lie down and die before I let it be the end.
After we decompress backstage, swapping bottled water for beer, we sign autographs and mingle with fans in the courtyard before heading back to the hotel.
One more night away from home. Then reality will set in, and I’ll be forced to tackle the brain-eating monster in my head.
Because I promised her.
I swore it.
The air is thick with heat and leftover adrenaline, voices hissing in my ears. I keep moving, smiling, nodding, gripping Sharpies tighter than I should. Annie stays close.
Then the crowd shifts.
And everything stops.
They’re just…there.
I blink, squint, keep blinking, wondering if my vision is fucking with me again.
But no.
I see them.
My parents.
Fredrick and Donna Rhodes.
Not much older than I remember. Not younger either. They look exactly the same, like time’s dared to skip over them but slammed into me at full force. Mom is in a slate-gray blouse and pearls, clutching her purse like a shield. My father’s hands are tucked behind his back as he stares at the son he hasn’t seen in years.
My vision tunnels.
The noise drops out. All I can hear is a funnel cloud in my ears and the hollow hum of memory slamming into my ribs.
I grip a wrought iron fence just to stay upright.
I should move. Say something. Anything.
But I can’t.
Because suddenly I’m standing in a black suit that didn’t fit, watching them bury my sister. I’m packing a bag in silence while my mother cries in the next room and my father tells me to “be strong.”
I’m hearing Stella’s voice, raspy and begging.
“Please don’t make me go. Please. I feel sick. My head is killing me…”
And I’m seeing them wave her off anyway, chasing medals instead of mercy.
My throat closes.
I can’t breathe.
Annie’s hand finds my arm.
