We’re halfway through the set and my hand is on fire. My white guitar is smeared red with blood. The walls are sweating and the crowd in front of us seems endless. It isn’t, I can see the back staircase, but in my mind we’re at the start of something real here.

I finish my solo at the end of the song and step up to the mic. “I know Georgie said he was inviting everyone he knew, but I didn’t think he had this many friends!”

A soft laughter comes from the crowd and Georgie taps the drums behind me in response.

“No but seriously, thanks. It’s all just for fun, you know…” My voice trails off. Am I allowed to tell them that even if two people came, I would still do it? Georgie lets girls sit at his drums after the shows, holding their hands over his sticks. School never made sense to Donny, so he stays hopeful that one day the basement gigs and his bass will give him a ticket out.

“Anyway, we are Chopped Up, and the next song, hopefully everyone knows, so help me out.” I scan the crowd again before playing the first riff, walking up to the mic.

I pause, seeing a familiar figure in the back. My heart starts to thump inside my chest. Donny starts playing because I don’t. I can’t hear him though, the ringing in my ears is too loud. I only feel the vibrations, the floor matching the pounding inside of me. He nudges me closer to the mic and instinct forces the first lyric out.

“I still have your picture on the wall,” I mutter into the mic. I close my eyes and try to remember the lyrics, push her face out of my mind.

Three months ago, we lay on the beach, sun beating down and waves lulling us to sleep. “Our last time down the shore. It will be so cold at school,” she said fiddling with the sand in front of us.

“Don’t worry, babe. Better that it’s cold, so we stay inside and study. Wisconsin snow will be a fun change,” I tried to calm her. She was always so anxious about college. I know why now.

The song is almost over, and the next line is too perfect, I might laugh when I sing it. I strike my guitar with a deeper fierceness, sending more blood along the strings. I find her again, to make sure she can hear me.  

“I saw you dancing at the show tonight, you stood in the back, and I think that we both know why,” my voice comes out angry and desperate. I’ve stirred up of a swell of emotions, mixing poorly with the beer I’ve been drinking throughout the set.

I feel her blue eyes gaze back at me. I wonder if they’re full of tears like they were that night three weeks ago. The Wisconsin cold getting to her, freezing her heart and her love for me.

I can feel Donny and Georgie’s glares, I wonder if they can see her too. I step back from the mic and miss the next few verses. All I can focus on is the blood dripping on to my shoes, hearing the crowd and my bandmates sing the rest of the song.

– Eleanor Phillips