Page 107 of Dirty Chorus

“She had left when I woke up this morning. I tried texting her, calling her. I can’t get a hold of her. Maybe I should just act like a fucking guy and not give a shit because she drained my ball sack, but fuck, I love the shit out of her.” I dig into my pockets pulling out the sheet of paper with the lyrics written on it. “Look, she gave me this.”

Omen takes the paper unfolding it, sitting on the amp in front of me. His brows scrunching together. “Did you write this?”

“No, she did.”

Omen gets up taking the paper with him, kicking the door open. “Yo, Tony! Come check this out!” The doors seals shut.

Chapter 50

Charlie

Iwalk across the parking lot and the venue looms in front of me. My nails dig into my palms so hard I think it will break the skin. Everyone here is in their gothic black clothes. Girls wearing their dog collars. Mini skirts and fishnets. Me, I’m a fuckin mess with my jean shorts, and a tank top. I didn’t even try to put on makeup. Not even an ounce of foundation. Just me, raw and naked, but if I’m being forced to break it off with Noah, am I really going to give a shit about how I look at this point?

My knuckles turn white as I show security my ticket, and they search through my purse and let me step into the madhouse. The walls are black with metal wall sconce lights, glowing a dull orange throughout the entire place. The stage is larger than the typical bar concerts Noah’s played at. There has to be several hundred people here.

My phone vibrates in my purse, and my knuckles turn white. Brody’s name flashes across the screen, and so does Noah's.

Brody: You’re making the right choice, baby.

Charlie: Fuck you

Noah: Hey your friend is here. Did you still plan on coming? I really want to see you. I’m sorry if I did anything. Please talk to me.

I can’t even muster up the courage to message Noah back. I shove the phone into my purse. Everything hurts. My legs tremble, and my bones might break any moment. I bite my fingernails watching people stroll past me with their friends.

Brody stands out in the crowd. It’s not hard to pick out an asshole jock amongst all the gothic punks wandering around. Some were wearing beanies with the crown of thorns. The same beanie I have in my dorm.

Brody’s predatory smirk meets my gaze. There’s no soul within his eyes, just black empty sockets watching me as he leans against the wall with a red pentagram above him. He lifts a chin, using two fingers to bait me in.

Chills run all over my skin, my hair standing up at the nape of my neck. The cold barrel of the gun is locked in my memory, and if he puts it against Noah’s head and pulls the trigger, it won’t be me with a stupid butter knife in my hand. I will jump off a ten-story high building to find him in hell.

“Come here,” Brody purrs, checking me out as he peeks at my cleavage. I quickly hug myself to cover them up. “You never disappoint, now do you?” He fists up the bottom of my tank top and tugs me in. Every part of me clenches up, my shoulders tightening as he breathes me in, his hot breath at the hollow of my ear. “Come with me.” He snatches my wrist, pulling me with a force I couldn't fight. My feet almost slide across the slick floor, fighting against his pull, but I end up walking behind him with steps that my muscles revolt against.

Music pulses through the venue, heavy cords of guitars and drums beat relentlessly, and the hammering can’t even dull out my own heart. Brody steers me through the throng of people, my palms getting sweaty. Even though my toes are sticky and my clothes are tight around my body.

We pass by two security guards who have no care in the world other than chatting with each other. One has their hands resting on his belt, the other one clenching his vest. They're oblivious as they laugh with each other, one throwing their head back. My pleading eyes are invisible. My soul is screaming for help.

We slip past the bathroom and down a dingy hall where he throws up my arm, and I stumble into a janitor's closet. I trip, getting tangled up with a yellow mop bucket. My body twists in a way that cracks my back as I land on my bottom on the hard cold floor. I use my hands to back up as Brody towers over me, but I’m met with boxes of bleach, toilet paper and random cleaners.

“Stand up,” Brody demands and I crawl to the brick wall, my hands patting it down as I do what I told. My throat is so raw that I can’t even swallow the fear engulfing me.

Brody leans down into his leather captain boots, slipping out a tactical knife. It snaps open, and my lips curl down as I shake my head. Whimpering, “No...no, no, no.” He stalks forward as I merely crumble back to the floor into a puddle.

“Get up!” he snaps. He corners me, there are so many boxes and metal racks I’m wedged in here. I can’t escape without tripping over something. “You haven’t done it yet, have you? You haven’t let go of that little boyfriend of yours. I told you to end that shit with him.”

“Why are you doing this?”

The shimmering blade meets the wedge of my neck, grazing the skin. “Why?” It’s cold on my skin. “You’re supposed to be with me.” A hot, scorching pain appears as he barely nicks me. “This one is nice and sharp,” he bites his lower lip, the tip of the knife going further down and brushing across my collarbone, just gentle enough to not leave a mark. I try to calm my ragged breathing, but I’m hitching nothing but sobs.

“W-why can’t you...you...just leave me alone?” I beg, sucking in a gasp because I’m stuck being a pawn in this twisted little game. “Please...” My breath is uncontrollable hitches, my chest burning hot as I'm face to face with malevolence. This isn’t the Brody I met. He’s possessed by something wicked.

“I...I...” I can’t even talk as I gasp for air. “I...I...I... please don’t make me do this.” My voice falters. He ignores me, his expression going as cold as the glint of the knife following a trail to my shoulder blades, where Noah left love bites.

“We’ve been busy, huh? Letting that poser fuck you,” he sneers, his voice dripping with hate. Brody grips the base of my neck with his thick hand, his thumb pressing on my windpipe and his brown eyes are inches from my face. “What happened to your stupid rule, huh?”

I don't do anything other than swallow. “Now you’re a little slut!” He tightens his grip, and he jostles me, and my back hits the brick wall, scraping my skin. “What did he do? Did you let him come on your stomach? Hmm?” he asks, and all I can do is blink. “Did you let him come in that pretty little cunt of yours?”

“Yeah... I slept with him.” I admit, wrapping my fingers around his wrist, barely able to suck in a breath. “I...I love him.”