Page 44 of A Tragic Melody

A few tears roll down my face, and I wipe at them, hoping he doesn’t notice. I don’t need his pity again. Or worse, his kindness. All I need is him to disappear so I can fall apart in peace, but hearing him play my music soothes me.

It reminds me why I put up with all the other bullshit. If only he could be my permanent guitarist. He makes my songs sound even better, and I could use that touch of magic. He could really make me stand out.

I lean back, letting myself just enjoy the sound for a moment. He moves onto another song, then another. The bus begins to move, and I feel myself sober up slightly.

The pain begins to slowly dull, fading away as Wyatt reminds me what I love about all this, shows me the light in the darkness. I hate that it’s him that is doing it. With everything going on between us, it's bittersweet that he is able to both hurt me and heal me.

But I can’t forget we are at war. And right now, I might be losing.

“You must think I’m so terrible,” I whisper. “I bet you think I’m just some giant whore with nothing of value. Bet it’s nice knowing that I only got here by spreading my legs, huh? I’m willing to sell my body for fame, and you don’t have to feel so bad about being mean to me, right? Because I deserve it. Act like a cheap whore, get treated like a cheap whore, huh?”

I’m not sure why I’m even talking to him right now, other than my need to spiral. I want to egg him on, break him, even the playing field. He doesn’t get the upper hand just because he knows what goes on behind closed doors. I still saved him. I still hold his future in my hands.

He doesn’t respond, continuing to strum on the guitar. I don’t know why that breaks me, but it does. More tears roll down my face.

“I do deserve it,” I whisper, my voice cracking, as I hug my knees to my chest. “I’m awful. Disgusting. Worthless.” I bury my head in my knees, openly crying now.

“Silent Rage is one of my favorite songs,” he finally says. “I didn’t make a deal with a crossroad’s demon, or whatever you said. I just love the song.”

I lift my head, wiping at my face before turning to look at him.

“I like how you changed it a little. Slowing it down really made it better. The slight speed change really added to the rhythm.”

“I was worried you might call it a mistake.” He chuckles. “Kind of surprised you didn’t.”

“How could I call anything you play a mistake? You’re an amazing guitarist.”

“You’re an amazing singer.” He looks up from his guitar to meet my eyes. “You command a stage in a way very few will ever be able to achieve.”

“Because of the drugs.”

“No, not because of the drugs. I mean, they may help you push aside the bad shit, but up there, it’s a different kind of high. I bet you’d enjoy it more without the drugs, but regardless, you are great out there.”

“But I only got this chance because I⁠—”

“Don’t,” he cuts me off. “Don’t cheapen it. Whatever that is, whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is what you do with it.”

“You want a secret, right?” I lower my legs, shifting closer to him.

“You don’t have to tell me a secret tonight.”

“But I want to.” I move to kneel beside him, resting my head on his shoulder. “I don’t mind sucking his dick. That part isn’t so bad. In fact, I kind of enjoy that. It makes me feel good to have a cock in my mouth. Like there is some value to me. Watching a man get off because of me makes me feel better about myself. I’m sure it comes from the years of abuse I suffered, but when life gives you lemons, you make men come. It gets me wet to watch their face twist in pl—” His hand slams over my mouth.

“Shut up. God, just shut up,” he groans, yanking his hand away and setting the guitar to the side. “I don’t want to hear about it, okay, Tuesday? Just stop talking.”

His reaction hurts, but I can make it hurt worse for him. Smiling, I sit back.

“What’s wrong, Wyatt? Does the idea of me having a cock in my mouth turn you on? Do you picture it being your dick next?”

“No. It really doesn’t. It’s not hot. It’s fucking sick.”

I laugh. “Look around, Wyatt. I’m fucking sick. This whole fucking world is sick. Did you think it would be fucking Candyland? It’s fucking hell, and we are all going to burn in it unless we find a way to enjoy it. So either get with the program or you’re going to die.”

“I’ll take death if the alternative is having you suck my cock to feel better about yourself.”

“Oh, you’d be so lucky. Nothing about your dick could make me feel better about myself. Everything about you just makes me feel like killing myself. You are a fucking thorn in my side, trying to get under my skin. Trying to convince me to get better, but it isn’t going to happen, Wyatt. This is as good as it gets for me. Stop trying to fix me. Nothing can fix me.”

“Admitting it is the first step.”