Page 35 of Dark Notes, Volume Two

Jake barks out a laugh, but there’s no humor behind it. He leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees as he shakes his head.

“Is that what you fucking think? We have been brothers since we were kids. And suddenly we’re supposed to turn it off and pretend we aren’t losing you? It’s supposed to be that fucking easy? Is that what you would do, if it were one of us?”

I don’t bother responding because we both know the answer, so it’s pointless, but he continues, anyway.

“No, you wouldn’t. Remember when that dickhead had McKinley, and Jagger went on his own to rescue her? Did you tell him he was on his own? No, you risked your fucking life to save him and his girl. Why? Because we are fucking brothers and we don’t ever abandon each other. Under any circumstances. So what do you have to live for? Us. We are your goddamn family, Jett. Not those fuckers that brought you into this world. Not your mom that let that asshole beat the shit out of you. Not your dad that only wants you for what you can buy him. Us. Me, Jagger, Hendrix.”

His voice gets louder, and he’s nearly screaming as he tries to drive home his point.

“And fucking Mia. You don’t deserve it, but she’s worried about you. She thinks you’re going to crash and burn. I can’t say I disagree with her.”

I chuckle, knowing I’ll piss Jake off.

“Live fast, die young.”

Leaning forward, he stares at me with an intensity I’ve never witnessed from him. He’s silent, for a long time. The room is quiet other than his heavy breathing, and I know he’s ready to hit me. I’m not worried about it, I welcome it. Physical pain is always better than the heavy emotional bullshit I carry with me every day.

“I can see this conversation was a waste of time.”

He rises from the chair and puts his hands in his pockets, hanging his head in defeat.

“I’m sorry for what they did to you. A little kid doesn’t deserve that. We should’ve intervened earlier, but we were kids, too. You can get help Jett. Man, your story doesn’t have to end like this. You are more than your suffering.”

He turns around and leaves without looking back. Once again, I’m alone with the demons that don’t just haunt me, but control me. This is why I shot myself up with heroin the very first fucking time. It’s the only escape.

I sit in the backseat of my step-father’s car with a small red suitcase beside me. I don’t know where we are going. When I asked, I was told to shut the fuck up and I’ve learned the hard way to listen.

“Get the fuck out of the car.” He yells and I do as I stumble over my suitcase.

I stand up,brush the dirt off of my jeans, and look around. I’m not sure what’s going on, but we’re in the desert. There are Cacti and dirt. Nothing more. Where could we possibly be going?

He moves to the backseat and grabs my suitcase and throws it at me, hitting me in the stomach. I grunt in pain from the impact and lean over as I try to catch my breath.

“Bye, shit stain.”

I run toward the car as he gets in.

“Where are you going? You can’t leave me here. I’m only eight.”

I charge for the backdoor to get in before he leaves. I’d rather die than be left out here alone. The animals are scary enough, but I’m afraid of the dark.

He grabs me by the back of my shirt and pulls me out and slams my head against the side of the car. It hurts so bad I can barely see. I want to be strong like he says. Be a man, but I can’t. Instead, I cry.

“I want my mommy.”

The wind is blowing hard, causing dust devils to get in my eye. When I rub my eyes trying to see again, I look down at my hand and see blood. So much blood, and it reminds me of what he did to my mom that one time, when I came home to find her bloody from him beating her.

“You’ll never see her again. She asked me to drop you off here so she never has to see you again.”

My phone rings, bringing me back to the present, and I groan when I see Jagger flash across the screen. More lectures, I assume, but I answer anyway.

“We need to talk. I’m not happy about what happened on stage, but we’re brothers.”

I chuckle as I raise an eyebrow he can’t see over the phone.

“You know where my dressing room is. Why are you being so formal? Want an appointment?”

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t with Samantha,” he huffs loudly.