Chapter Text
I finish the set with the last few strums of the guitar, letting it hum the rest of the song away. Once again fleeting from what once was, my eyes closed and face raised up as the guitar bellows out its last vibration.
I slowly lower my face and open my eyes… to, once again, the patrons of this shitty pizza place to not bat a single eye once more.
I silently sigh to myself and lean into the mic, “Thank you all once again for listening to Silver Lining. I play Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays.”
I pause and grimace as I courage up the next set of words I’m forced to say, “...and you can come by the owner to get a 2-for-1 free meat lovers pizza if you buy one with extra toppings every Friday evening, Thank you for coming to Mark’s pizza.”
I quickly step away from the mic and go backstage; I sit in the chair, setting my guitar down from my shoulder and into my case. Fuck me, another night with not one fucking person even bothering to listen to me again. Every week, each day, coming here knowing how much I’ve made a goddamn idiot of myself.
I walk into the dingy restroom and turn on the sink. Cold water bursts out for a split second before calming to a normal stream. I lean down and cup the water into my hands before splashing my face in it; the cold gave me a slight shiver and a rustle in my wings.
I look into the dirty mirror and stare at myself. Tattered clothes from a thrift shop, tattoos adorning my arms, a shaved head from a time that I wish never came. A body that doesn’t eat properly and is nearly skeletal, wings that are half missing their once bright feathers after years of preening has done a number on them, and skin that is scarred on multiple sides from the constant digging from my nails. I stare into my eyes that were once bright and felt full of life, only to have it stare back with hollow emptiness and sorrow. My face scowls just thinking about the man who turned me this way…
Look at me sounding like some writer.
I shut off the faucet and wiped my face down with a brown paper towel before leaving the restroom.
I come out from backstage and slide into one of the barstool seats, which catches the bartender's attention behind the counter. A tall, dark green Abrictosaurus walks over and folds his arms.
“Hey Fang, another one of those days, huh?” he says with a soft smirk.
“Shut up, Mark. You know I hate your snide fucking remarks, and today is not a good day for me.” I growl at his comment.
His smirk fades, and he shakes his head. “I know, Fang, and I know you hate playing like this, and I know you think it’s your best bet, but-”
“Shut the fuck up, Mark. Don’t say another word. I don’t want to hear a lecture from you about my past or any of that bullshit, alright? Now, please, just hand me a beer and my payment for today.”
I hold out my hand and stare daggers into him. I really couldn’t care less about anything right now. I just want the damn money. He sighs and shrugs as he walks to and from the end of the bar to me and hands me a wad of wrapped cash into my hands.
“I’ll go get your beer, the usual?”
“Yeah, whatever.” I start counting the money as Mark walks away. Wait… 200 bucks ? That’s it? Barely enough to get me through a few days, let alone a week. What the hell is up with this prick?
“Hey, Mark what the fuck man?” I raise the stack over my head and wave it to him. “This isn’t what we agreed to.”
Mark walks over, opening a beer while a slice of pizza gets reheated in the oven.
“We did, and I remember telling you that if you can get customers to actually pay for your music, I’d give you a reasonable amount, and it seems not one person even came to look at your show.”
My hands grip the bar table hard to the point my nails make slight marks.
“YOU TOLD ME IT’D BE FINE AS LONG AS I PROVIDE ENTERTAINMENT, I DID AS YOU FUCKING ASKED, NOW PAY UP!”
Mark looks down at me with a scowl and folds his arms. “ You better lower your fucking voice . You’ll scare away my customers. You still got this Saturday to play; as long as you can make up that day to play and get people in, I’ll pay you your fair amount, but until then, this is what you get.”
He smacks down the bottle next to me and slides me a slice of the pizza that he reheated. “Don’t waste this gift, Fang. Because I don’t think anyone else in Skin Row would be sane enough to take you.”
My left hand starts to shake as my grip on the table finally gets free… I have to calm down.
He’s right… With the number of bars and places I’ve been kicked out of after many drunk-filled fights, being booed off stage, and property damage I’ve caused around town, I didn’t need another place kicking me out to leave me on the streets…
I feel my stomach growl as he hands me the meat lover's slice on a paper plate, and he even double-stuffed it with pepperoni this time… Fuck
As he started walking away, I called out to him. “Hey Mark, wait.”
He turns around with a raised eyebrow. “Look I… I’m sorry. I just… I really need the money. My rent is soon due and I don’t know if I’ll make it by this weekend… Please just an extra hundred… I’ll wash the floors or something, just… please.”
A tear tries to escape from my eye as the shaking worsens. Mark seems to take notice as he sighs and bridges his snout with his hand.
“Alright Fang, I’ll lend you another hundred. But that’s all. If you don’t get people to come see you play soon, I’ll have to kick you out.”
I finally bellow out a choked sigh and weakly smile at Mark. “Thank you, Mark… Thank you so much; I promise I’ll do my best… Thank you.” I clasp my hands together above my head.
He just smiles and nods. “No problem, Fang.” And like that, he tends to someone else across the bar.
I bite into the pizza and take in the flavor. It's not the best, but out here, it’s what I could get. As much as I’d love to go to Moe’s… I can’t let him see me like this. It’d break his heart, and he’d always been a good man to me… I can’t show my face to anyone.
I take a sip of my beer and glance at the TV hanging at the far end of the bar, the TV being quiet with subtitles on for a news channel talking about the bombing of some kind of… USS Liberty…? Whatever that is.
I look back at the pizza and slowly munch away in silence as the other patrons talk about whatever. The noise just gets whiter and whiter the more I’m here, and at this point, no one’s conversations surprise me anymore. I’ve heard talk of murders, kidnappings, rape, all sorts of heinous things that either they’ve done or have seen being done; it’s all relative.
After a while, I finished the pizza and beer, pushing the empty platter away from me as I leaned my shoulders on the table and pondered. The food doesn’t fill me up, considering I can’t stomach most of anything anymore. I just feel sick after barely eating a slice. Even now, I’m thinking of rushing to the bathroom and pushing it all out. I sit briefly to ease my mind, letting the white noise around me soothe my aching mind.
Suddenly, I get a cold shiver down my body, and I take it as a sign to finally go. I get up from the chair and say goodbye to Mark. I lift the guitar onto my shoulder and make my way to the door. As I leave the establishment, a cold breeze rushes past me.
“Brrr, fuck, it really seems like summer is gone, huh.” I say to myself as I shift my wings closer to me, albeit how tattered they are. I take out a pack of cigs and a lighter as I tap one out onto my beak and place the pack back into my pocket.
Before I lit the cig, I noticed my left hand was still slightly shaking. I put my hand into a fist and focus on my breathing.
In. Out. In. Out. Fuck.
I grab the lighter again.
Flick once, nothing. Fuck.
Flick twice, nada. Shit, come on.
Flick a third time, and the sparks get a bit brighter. Come the fuck on, you stupid shit.
Fourth time, the lighter comes to life, and I quickly hover my other hand over it to shield it from the wind. I inhale the first bit of smoke and feel the relief rush through me. Fuck I can’t believe this is the substitute I use now…
I put the lighter away and started walking toward home, pocket knife in hand in one of my pockets. Well, rather than walking, it’s more like speed walking; the cold and the darkness of Skin Row can make you on edge with the retards lying on the curb with knives and weapons that could kill you in one swipe.
Walking down the sidewalk, I let my mind wander. Mark’s words finally hit me. I need to do something about myself, and my music is not even making people look my way anymore. What the hell am I gonna do? Ending up homeless again will just send me over the edge, and I’ll be right back where I started. Walking down the dimly lit street, I puff on the cig, making sure I’m not followed, my stomach still churning from the pizza and beer slop combination. Gone are the days of mom's superb cooking. Don’t think I’ll ever get to taste it again…
After a good few minutes, I smoke up the rest of the cigarette and throw the butt to the side of the road. I reach my building, walk into the lobby, take out my electronic key, and hold it up to the inner lobby door to unlock it. The weak smell of lingering weed hits my nose immediately. Luckily, no creep was around the lobby to try to flirt with me or sell me some shitty laced Carfentynal.
With a heavy click, the door unlocks, and I head up the stairs to my apartment. I walk past all the garbage, puke on the floor from someone’s earlier lunch, and head up the stairs. Walking down the catwalk, I reach the third floor and finally get to my door.
Apartment 3F.
As soon as I reach the door, my phone starts to vibrate. I pull it out of my right pocket and look at who’d be calling me. It’s Naser.
God… dear baby brother still kept contact with me after all these years despite me treating him like shit in those high school years all the way up until the night I fled home.
…Yet he still talks to me, cares to this day, and calls me every day to ensure I’m alright. He’s part of why I’m not still dead in a ditch somewhere in the city.
I swipe up on the screen to pick up the call and raise the phone to my head. “Hey, Naser.”
“Heeey, sis, good to hear you. You doin' alright? How was your day?” God, his voice was a saving grace every night he called. It made me know he still cared, and gave me a reason to still wake up every day.
“I’m doing alright, Naser, thanks. I just got back home from another gig. Y’know… The usual stuff.” I lean against the wall next to my door. Can’t tell him about what Mark said to me. I can’t have him worrying…
“Alright, that’s good to hear.” He pauses slightly before continuing. “Is…uh, are the shakes getting any better?”
Ah, that. “Yeah Naser, it’s getting better day by day. I’m trying my best to stay clean, baby brother don’t worry.” I giggle.
A good year ago, I hit my lowest… Fell into some hard shit, followed the wrong people. Something I thought I ran away from after high school. Funny how it all comes around.
“Okay sis. I just… I wanna make sure you’re doing alright.” He sighs into the phone.
I audibly sigh and nod to myself. “Yeah… yeah, I know, I know. I just… I don’t want to worry you is all.”
“You know I’ll always worry about you sis. Mom and Dad do, too.” He pauses a bit longer before asking, “I know that I’ve asked you this before, but are you sure you don’t want me telling them anything?”
God, not this again. “Naser, you know I don’t… They resent me, and I was a horrible daughter… I still am. I fucked up so much, I look like shit, and I’ve gotten nowhere in life. If they found out now, I’d be as good as dead.” I slightly raise my voice at him as my legs start shaking.
Fuck not now…
“Well… what about that other thing we walked about? About getting the help you need from the w-”
“ NASER .” I nearly yell into the phone. “Cut. It. Out. I DON’T NEED HELP. I can handle this on my own. Why can't you just trust me?” My voice raised to the point I was on the verge of a breakdown. Another long moment of silence fills the tension in the air. I hear him sigh and shuffle around. My foot is now tapping the concrete underneath.
“Alright, alright. Look, just… Keep yourself safe. Alright? I-I don’t know where you are, and I know we haven’t seen each other in years, but I just want to help you in any way I can, whether it be finances or a place to stay. But… know I’m always a phone call away.”
“I know, little brother. I’ll be safe. I’m sorry. And…Thank you. I know you’re just trying to help. I love you.”
“I love you too, sis. Goodnight, and stay safe.”
“I will. Goodnight.
And with that, three audible beeps ring in my ear, signaling that the call has ended. I look down at the phone as the screen goes to sleep and stare at my reflection. My legs still shake from the call as I let out a sigh and unlock the door to the apartment. I need another cig…
I close the door and flick on the light switch.
Welcome to my humble home. It ain’t much, but it’s honest living… I guess.
The light flickers on slowly, revealing a studio apartment with the worst popcorn ceiling tiles, a couch in the very back of the room I found outside the building with a hole in the side of it, the only kitchen-like thing is a mini fridge, a few small cabinets, and a microwave. Dirty clothes are piled on a shitty chair, and everything else is stuffed into a shitty large bag as storage.
I set my guitar down by the door and kick off my boots. I throw myself onto the couch and lay on my face.
Naser gets me thinking every time he calls… Do I try to call my parents? Should they know their daughter is alive? How will they act if they find out Naser knew all along? How would they react to everything I’ve done up to this point? What will Dad do if he finds out that he was the one that caused all this? I don’t want to drag Naser down…
My mind dumps a million questions and bounces them around my head like it’s made of rubber. I tightly close my eyes as my head starts to hurt. Fuck, I can’t be having this after another shit night… I gotta distract myself.
As I get up, I notice the slight shakes in my hand start up again. I luckily have them under control, but sometimes it feels too much to bear. Cigarettes helped me calm them, but I usually manage to go through a whole pack within a day if it gets real bad. Naser’s idea of getting help would involve someone notifying my parents, and I can’t have that happen. I have to do this on my own.
I check the time on my phone. 10 pm. I’ll probably just sit on my phone for a bit before I go to-
*VVVVRRRT*
FUCK.
I slightly jump and drop the phone onto the floor before quickly picking it up again. It continues to vibrate as I look at the screen. Someone’s calling me?
The only people I have as contacts are Naser and Mark. Who’d be calling me at this hour? Especially from an unknown number?
I swipe up on the screen and slowly raise the phone to my head. “Hello?”
“Hello, my name is Angela. I’m calling from Volcaldera General Hospital. Am I speaking with a… Fang Aaron?”
I immediately get up from the couch. Oh no… nononono, did something happen to Naser? Mom? Dad? Blood rushes to my head as I feel the adrenaline coursing through me. This time, both of my hands start to shake, “Y-yes, T-this… This is her.” I managed to spit out.
“Hi, Miss Aaron; I am calling on behalf of a patient named Anon Y. Mous. He had you listed as an emergency contact.”