I am probably behind this week. For some reason, I wasn’t able to get into the venting and the rage Chris felt. It was too raw, too personal, and the only way I could approach it was through another perspective. So it is missing something deep down at the heart of the story, but I just couldn’t do it.
Feel free to write whatever comes to mind, in any format. Vent it all out. Breathe free.
The leave on the trees hung heavy with rain, windows misted with condensation as day dropped into night. As grey and dreary as the day had been, inside was heat and fire and pain blazing hotter than the invisible sun.
Words cried loud and hard. Anger and betrayal and a deep down volcanic hurt which never had, and never would, go away.
For the pain on his friend’s face, the pain radiating from every pore of his body, Jay would never forgive her. Wasn’t marriage supposed to work, at least once? Couldn’t one woman love him for himself and not for the money or the fame? Couldn’t one woman tell the truth from the beginning?
He hadn’t seen Chris this upset since he used to sit in hotel bathrooms on tour, smashing tiny china whatevers with a hammer. Or the mirror if the suicidal thoughts were particularly bad. Since his first wife walked out on him because he wouldn’t leave the band for her.
But he said nothing; nothing was needed right then.
Chris kicked a small table, sending it flying. Let loose a string of curses. Used an arm to sweep everything off the sideboard. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! God-damned fucking bitch!” And more, more, more.
Jay knew the tears would come, but not until the rage and betrayal ran it course. As much as his own heart was breaking, he held still.
Chris smashed a lamp against the wall, kicking and throwing and breaking his away across the room until there was nothing left to break except the walls and so he started pounding on them.
Jay quickly grabbed Chris’ wrists, holding him back. All they needed was for Chris to wake out of his rage with broken hands, unable to play. That would mean 24 hours watch, just in case. Away from mirrors and knives and anything else sharp and able to slice skin.
When Chris pulled away, Jay let him go. Back to the wall, curled in on himself, broken. So broken. So god-damned, fucking, broken.
And then the tears.