Author Notes: My new series that I've started. Eventually all the main 8 characters will be written.
I haven't forgotten about 'All I Have is You' it still lives.
Until then, enjoy!
My Name is...
Bright lights, screaming girls, the smell of ciggerets and alcohol fill the room as I scream out my songs to the moshing
crowd. My mind only hears my lyrics and I only feel the heat of my body and the strings of my gutair. This goes on for
hours and hours until finally the adrenalline dies and the lights go out. The room empties and I'm left with my gutair.
Another concert. Another day.
It's the middle of the night when I head back to the loft where I'm postive Mark has fallen asleep on the couch waiting
up for me. The street is dark, dimly lighted but my mind is still fogged from the closed walls of the club where my band
just finished playing. I climbed the stairs and walked through the door, sure enough there was Mark, fast asleep on the
couch. I smiled, he was so loyal. Always had been. Since the day I met him he's never left my side. He stuck with me
when no one else would. Through highschool, through leaving home, through hunger, drugs, April...and withdrawl. He
stuck with me. I fucked up so many times. More than I can count. But Mark...never left. He's my best friend and I don't
give him the credit he deserves.
"Mark? Mark wake up, I'm home." Mark groaned, opening his eyes.
"Oh...hey Rog."
"Think you might be more comfortable in your bed?"
Mark nodded, standing up and stumbling off to his room.
"Night Rog." I heard him mumble. I don't think he's even really awake.
"Night Mark."
I myself, trudge off to my room, my lack of energy finally settling in.
I lay my gutiar case next to my bed and flop down on my poor exsuse for a mattress, not even bothering to change
clothes. Sleep settles in, and another night passes by.
I wake up the next day around noon. I could hear Mark fussing around in the living room, probably working with his
film. I sighed and sat up, my bones cracking and my stiff body restricting my movement a bit. I yawn, running my fingers
through my hair. Finally after a few minutes of "waking up" I manage to stand up. I take off my jacket, braclets and most of my rings, leaving only a few on, leaving myself in jeans and an old worn t-shirt. I stumble out into the living room where the light of day stings my still tired eyes.
"Ah, he lives." Mark comments looking up from the couch.
I roll my eyes.
"Funny." I mumble.
"Good show last night?" he asks.
"Yep." I reply as I walk to the kitchen to make some coffee.
"Another one tonight?"
"Yeah, different place though. You gonna come?" I always invite him but he always declines.
"Not tonight. I promise I will though one day. You know all that screaming and moshing...it just..."
"Isn't your thing." I finish for him. And I'm right, it's not. I've dragged him to a few of my concerts, the good ones but
each time Mark comes back with a bunch of brusies from random moshers who'd shove themselves into him.
"Yeah...well I've got to go...work you know. See you later?"
I nod.
"You know...you don't have to wait up each night."
"I know. But I like too." I roll my eyes as Mark gathers his things.
"Wake me up?"
"I always do." he smiles and walks out. The loft is silent. Moments later though, the phone rings, and we screen.
"Speak."
"Roger it's Mimi. I get of work early tonight so I'll come by your concert ok? We can hang out afterwards ok baby?
I love you! See you later!"
Hours later I'm at another club, with blazing lights, screaming girls, moshers, druggies, and alcoholics. All the usual
people. From the stage I could see Mimi, smiling up at me as she moved her body with the music. I smiled back.
I could also see the junkies. The people I used to associate with. Everytime I see one I can't help but flashback to my
years as an addict. How good the heroin felt but how horrible the price was I paid and am still paying.
The concert ends and after I've packed my stuff, I meet up with Mimi. I knew Mark would have to wait longer tonight. As we walk out of the club I heard some girls talking. Giggling to each other as they looked at me.
"Who is that guy?" one asked.
"Yeah he's so cool!"
My name is Roger Davis. I'm an HIV positive musician. And I'm dying.
Author Notes: This part is done. Next, Marky! Let me know what you think and if you think I should continue!