Prologue

I opened my eyes the room was dim, and the bed uncomfortable, but I was to tired to complain about it. Mikey was sitting in a leather chare to my right, his head on his chest, snoring softly.

I slept most of the time, but slowly I was getting better, I could feel it. The doctor said I'd had banged my head, gotten a concussion, broken ribs, two of them, and as a result of that some internal bleeding, that probably would have killed me if they hadn't done emergency surgery. Mikey almost cried when I spoke to him the first time. The rest of the guys came to visit, all smiling and happy. Something was wrong though. Frank wasn't spazzing out, trying to mess with the machines or anything stupid like that.

"Where's Bert?" I asked, finally. He'd been with me I remembered. All off them looked at each other, confused.

"Gee…" Ray began.

I don't remember much about the crash. It was all so fast, I was drunk, and I couldn't barely see anything as it was because of the rain. Bert was driving, to fast for the weather, and he too was a bit smashed, me more than him.

He leaned over toward me, with that weird look on his face, the one where he looks like he's about to tell you a secret. I think he kissed me, but it was so light, I wasn't sure. He yelled something about someone in the road. We were swerving, the tires screeching on the asphalt, as they lost traction.

Everything was so still after that, still and quiet. I remember looking over and seeing him, eyes glazed and empty, his blood poring onto the open road, mixing with the rain puddles.

I wanted to touch him, hold him close, just one more time. That was what I thought about as I lay there, unable to move. I just wanted to be close to him, even if it meant I had to smell him. Bert always smelled bad, not that I could say anything. Neither of us showered regularly. But he was special. I'd know him anywhere, just by how he smelled. The perfect combination of sweat and cigarettes. He matched it too, with his long greasy black hair, unshaved stubble, and filthy clothes. But his eyes, Bert had some of the prettiest eyes I'd ever seen. These big baby blues, that looked like they could see into your soul. I told him everything, did everything he wanted me to. How could I refuse.

It wasn't long after the wreck that I blacked out, sinking into an abyss, that surrounded me up like a blanket. I wasn't afraid, I just thought maybe this was all a strange dream, and that when I woke up in the morning, he'd be there, hugging me to his chest, just like he always did. Then he'd get up to leave before anyone woke up. He said he wanted to keep it quiet for a while. I don't know why I said yes.

Waking up in the hospital scared me to death. I was laying flat on my back, it was so bright and people were running around screaming orders. Someone took my hand and told me everything was going to be okay, it was probably Mikey, but he was ripped away from me just as quickly as Bert had been. I blacked out again after that.

"Gee," Ray sat down next to the bed. "What are you talking about?"

"What do you mean?" I asked. He was either alive or dead, right? My heart was pounding, my breath coming in short gasps. "Where is he?"

"You were drunk driving…" Ray glanced back at the others for help.

"You crashed," Frankie said bitterly, folding his arms across his chest.

"No I wasn't! Bert was driving! I know he was!" I insisted. I knew I was right. "I swear to God he was there! Laying in the road!"

"Gee, calm down," Ray placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. Mikey was at my other side, holding my hand in his.

"Breath," he reminded me. "It'll be okay, I'm sure he's fine…"

Frankie made a noise, like he was trying to stifle a sarcastic laugh. Matt growled at him, and pulled him toward the door.

"Don't upset him more!" The drummer hissed into Frankie's ear.

"Matt," Frankie said, as if he were shocked. "Bert got Gee all smashed, took him for a midnight drive, and when he crashed Gee's car, he bailed on him! This is Bert we're talking about, the guy who's been encouraging Gee to drink more for years, and introduced him to cocaine! It would be better if he were dead…"

"Frank!" Matt's voice was a warning.

"Fuck you, man," Frankie said, running his hands through his hair, before marching out of the room.

I hated this tension between everyone. Frankie was genuinely sweet, never raising his voice at anyone, not even Bert! But now he was saying he wished the front man of The Used was dead? Bert hadn't been the one to introduce me to cocaine, I figured that out on my own.

I lay back on the pillows closing my eyes, and trying to collect my thoughts, while Mikey and Ray spoke in low voices, their tones worried. I caught Brian's name in the midst of their conversation. I wasn't surprised that he'd be around. We caused a lot of trouble for our Tour Manager.

Bert had wrecked and ran because of the alcohol, maybe. That was Ray's sound opinion. My band never liked Bert much, said he was a bad influence on me and they were probably right. I didn't listen to them, not even to Mikey. Bert lived the way I wanted to live. He and I did all the same things, we both drank, smoked, and did drugs. But it invigorated him, and dragged me down. I didn't want to believe it did, but it was obvious that Bert and I didn't belong in the same world.

They couldn't find him. They tried, for three months, but they couldn't. It was a missing person's case, then a murder case. He was presumed dead.

I wanted answers, I didn't care if the police helped me or not, I wanted to know why. Why they didn't even know he was in the car with me. Sure, they humored my story, my story was the only one they had, but weather they believed it or not… that was something else!