Page 127 of Dirty Chorus

I whisper without meaning to. “Noah.” My lips tremble. “It’s... it’s... It’s Noah.”

He’s on the screen now, standing on the field with a guitar, singing into the microphone like the world doesn’t exist around him. His voice is raw, the grunts, the screams, the pain etched into every lyric and it hits something deep inside me.

“I wrote that...” I whisper. “I’ll still find you in three days, burn me at the stake, I’ll make sure you suffocate,” I repeat the lyrics that he sings on the television. “I wrote that... it’s him...” My breath catches, as it starts to flood back, rampaging through every nerve of my being. “That’s Noah,” I say louder. “It’s Noah!”

The old man turns to me with a frown. “What the hell are you yapping about?”

But I’m already halfway out of the room. The IV tugs at my arm as I drag the stand with me and I make it to the hallway, my feet cold from the floor.

“It’s him!” I shout, pointing at the screen. “That’s him! That’s Noah!” Some of the nurses aren’t paying any attention to me. They're just walking around with their charts when I'm about to have a full-blown panic attack. God, they must be used to me having episodes at least twice a day, but this isn’t one.

The old man stares at me like I’ve lost my mind, muttering, “What the hell, why did I get stuck with a crazy woman,” and then he goes back to yelling at the TV. “Where is the football game?”

But I can’t stop. My heart’s racing so fast it feels like it’s going to split in two. I drag my IV further out the doorway, shouting into the hall. “He’s on TV! Noah’s on TV!”

Nurses rush in, their faces all calm and professional, the kind of calm that makes me feel even more frantic. “Okay, we need you to sit down. You’re going to rip out your IV’s again.”

I shake my head. Tears start to form in my eyes as I don’t want them to make me sit back down, or for them to badger me into calming down. Now I’m sobbing, chest heaving. “No, you don’t understand. I know him! No... no...” I backed away from them. “Don’t put me back to sleep please! That’s Noah! The guy singing, that’s someone I know!”

One of the nurses reaches for me, but I keep pointing at the TV through tears. “He’s someone! My chest hurts, I want... I want Noah!”

My voice cracks. Everything inside me feels like it’s snapping loose all at once. The gears in my brain are starting to turn on. Then it hits me. My name. It slams into my chest with the force of a heartbeat.

I scream through the sobs. “My name is Charlotte!”

The nurses freeze for a moment, stunned. One of them grabs a clipboard, fumbling for the call button. “My name is Charlotte!”

Chapter 59

Noah

Istroll up onto a stage under lights so hot they nearly blind me. I never thought I’d see myself as someone who would play on a football field, watching cheerleaders shake their pom-poms. The crowd is decent, with most seats filled up. I’m surprised how full it still is based on the score right now. The Falcons are getting their asses creamed, and I don’t watch football but this game is pretty pathetic it makes me even cringe.

I grasp the microphone, seeing bodies move through the bleachers and others staying in their seats watching. “Most of you probably don’t know us, but we are a local metal rock band in the area. We’re called Wolves in Sheep Skin, recently signed by Metal Blade.”

I hear a cheer in the far distance, and a few people in the crowd throwing up their devil horns. I point over at them. “Hey, someone knows us!” I chuckle, my palms getting sweaty with the mic in hand. “That makes me happy... umm... Well, we wanted to come out and support the Falcons, and we wanted to spread the word about a lovely young lady that went missing on this campus. Her name is Charlotte Henderson. She's my girl, and I miss her. Maybe someone out there knows where she is, because I want nothing more than to see her again. But yeah, I hope you enjoy the show.”

I lick my lips pacing back and forth as the fog machines kick in, and I wait for my cue as Omen hits the first chord. I do something a bit different. I sing a song I used to play a lot when going to bars and just starting off. One of those iconic singles you can do for karaoke. It’s one I was willing to do, even though Omen encouraged me to try to learn other covers. Usually, I’d rather play my own music because I don’t want people discovering us from someone else’s creation, but tonight is all about grabbing attention.

As I’m singing, the large screens circling around the stadium cut to static. It’s grey snow that fills them like a television that lost signal. For a second I think it’s just part of the show, but the screen doesn’t change.

I keep singing while Payton does her thing, and eventually the static swirls into a black screen, with a green cursor and codes running like a countdown. Then there's a blinking loading bar.

The crowd is so invested in the songs, but it starts to die down, and the world around me goes quiet as a video pops up on all the large screens across the stadium. It’s edited footage, and Brody is the main character. A girl, nearly unconscious, is being thrown on a bed. She’s kicking and pushing the guys climbing on top of her around.

I catch glimpses of girls Brody’s drinking with, they are kissing, or even sleeping around with him. The videos on the screen start showing other videos, or messages that seem to be from Brody. I start to block it out, all the other voices I'm hearing.

I slam my eyes shut just focusing on the lyrics, and the sound of the guitar in my grip, but just a faint image of Charlie flickers deep within my brain. The crowd’s energy is shifting. I can sense it. They’re booing and screaming profanities, but not at the music. They’re yelling at Brody.

I dive into another song, just performing like we do in the garage, nothing stopping the rhythm of what we do. This time, it’s the song lyrics I snatched out of Charlie’s journal. We put it all together so shortly, barely even tried to put a good beat to it. Mostly it was angry grunts and roars through the mic, with singing between the chorus. When I'm halfway through the song, I open my eyes.

The football team is strutting out into the field. Brody is in the distance, using his jersey to wipe his bloody nose. He holds up his hands like it’s the best fucking day in the entire world. He's pounding a fist on his chest like this is some sort of victory when all of his sleazy videos are on the screen. I’ve had enough. The mic screeches.

“How does it fucking feel to lose tonight?” My hands clench around the metal pole. “You never lose right?” I point at the screen that keeps showing another video of him, assaulting someone else. “How many people have you sat here and hazed? I’d love to know the answer to that one.”

Brody wipes his lips, stepping over to the stage, holding out his arms with a come at me stance. I can’t make out what he says over the crowd, but I’m sure it’s a smart ass remark.

“Why don’t you tell the crowd what you did to Charlie that night?” I taunt. He stands there, scoffing, just shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head keeping that cocky half-ass smile. “You threatened her, didn't you? You forced her to leave me? Didn’t you? You told her you were going after me if she didn’t! Then you sat there and fucking assaulted her!” I curl the microphone off the stage. The entire mic stand lands on the turf. I’m throwing off the guitar strap, and leaping off the stage. “Where the fuck is she?”