The last of the singer's voice rang out from the massive speakers that dominated either side of the stage. The lights flashed overhead in time with drums as it beat out the last of the song's rhythm. One last strum of the electric guitar and the lights faded out, plunging the stage into darkness. The nightclub erupted into applause, whistles ripping through the midnight air and the occasional call for an encore was shouted out.
Meanwhile the band temporarily abandoned their beloved instruments and climbed down from the stage with ease that could only come from practice. They slipped away from the noise, reconvening backstage where bottle water waited for them – courtesy of the club's manager – so they had something to drink while they waited for the roadies to collect their instruments.
All of the band were female and it was commonly believed among the four of them that at least half of their regular audience could care less what they played or how well they played it; they were simply there for the eye-candy. It was a fair assumption. Even from the distance between the band and their audience, the girls' beauty was still obvious. Although they'd only been playing for a year and they were only a local band, without a contract and without an agent, they'd had their fair share of stalkers and groupies. It was a good thing none of them used their real names.
The drummer slumped on the chair, feeling her heart beat with the leftover adrenaline from playing. Her name was Mina but she was called Ebony when among those of a musical profession. The name came from her black hair that stuck up in short tuffs; it gave her a boyish appearance so her fellow band members had opted for a more feminine name to avoid any confusion. Out of the girls, she was the shortest, only coming up to their bass guitarist's shoulder. Her dark, muddy green eyes peered out from vaguely almond-shaped eyes, framed by long dark eyelashes. She was not well curved but her long sleeved black top removed any doubt about her gender. However, the effect partly was ruined by the white dress-shirt – adorned by a red Chinese dragon emblazoned on the back – which she'd worn over it, leaving the buttons undone. To complete the outfit, she'd worn a pair of black cargo-pants and a pair of white flip-flops. Ebony's style was usually mismatched and rarely feminine.
"Were they there?" Ebony asked, then seeing the vaguely confused looks of her comrades, she continued. "The psychos."
A look of understanding passed over the faces of her friends. The 'psychos' was the nickname given to a particular pair of fans noted for their strange appearances. Although they were never close enough to see properly, their fashion sense resembled something close to 'The Nightmare Before Christmas'. Not that this bothered the band, the nickname 'psychos' was considered affectionate by the group of girls whose childhoods had taught them to value 'weird' and 'disturbed' as compliments.
"Yup," the lead guitarist confirmed. "In the corner, furthest from the door."
"Have they talked to anyone?" the bass guitarist asked, only to receive a negative in the form of shaking heads.
The guitarists were sisters, only a year apart in age and an inch apart in height. They held a striking resemblance to one another, so people were forced guess which one they were talking to by their haircut and fashion sense. They bore the same oval faces, containing the same feminine features and the same deep chocolate eyes staring soulfully out at the world. They were tall with well-rounded figures, slightly top heavy but that was nothing they would complain about. Between the two of them, they wrote just over half of the band's songs.
The elder, christened Rebecca but referred to as Athame, had light brown hair that fell in natural curls just past her shoulders, differing from her sister's pin-straight hair of the same length and colour. She wore a bright purple top that fell off her shoulders to contrast her layered crimson miniskirt. Scarlet high heels lifted her up even higher although she was already the tallest of the band and finishing the ensemble were a pair of fishnet tights and heavy black eyeliner. Her bass guitar was purely black, gleaming from good treatment and a perfect match to her younger sister's.
Going by the alias Bane, Natalie appeared to have much more simple and subtle tastes than her elder sibling. She wore skinny black jeans and a white top, decorated with a pattern that resembled splattered blood. Her footwear was the ever-classic black converses and she wore the same amount of black eyeliner as Athame. However, up close you could see three necklaces of varying lengths, two studded belts and a ring on each finger which were partially hidden by her fingerless gloves.
"I don't think they've even come within shouting distance," the band's singer commented quietly.
Despite being the singer, Jessabel was the quietest of the group. Usually preferring not to socialise with the others outside of practice, the singer stood a little distance from the others and normally stayed perfectly silent. It had been her who suggested stage names in the first place, choosing Marred for herself in an attempt to keep her band career separate from the rest of her life. She wore entirely tight black clothing, no accessories but heavy black eyeliner and eye-shadow to make people focus on her hair rather than her face. This part of her was hard to ignore, in bright sunlight or under the glow of stage lights, the red strands seemed to catch on fire; when wet, they held a frightening resemblance to blood. It rolled down her neck and then her back in unruly layers eventually ending at the base of her spine.
The door opened, jogging each of the girls from their own thoughts, revealing the roadies who brought their instrument carefully to them. They accepted them gratefully, though not quite as gratefully as the money for the gig from the club manager.
"Everyone good for practice on Monday?" Ebony asked. "Four pm?"
"Sounds good," Athame agreed, her sister Bane nodding also.
They turn to their final member who remained silent as she accepted her share of the money. Though they didn't speak of it, Marred was only fifteen and therefore it was actually illegal for her to be doing gigs so late or so often. School started on Monday but she too nodded, remaining silent as usual because she saw no complications – such as large amounts of homework – coming with the first day. That decided, the group split up and each went their own way, taking care not to get spotted by any of their fans and followed home.
Marred was particularly careful, taking the long route to avoid anyone she knew. She walked home by herself; knowing the streets and having her house close by soothed any fears she might have about being alone at night. She walked to the edge of town where built up housing estates gave way to individual homes and, finally, the little thatched cottages that were part of the original nineteenth century town.
The singer approached one of these cottages. Ivy covered the front of the building, twining over the stones and mingling with the thatch of the roof. None of the lights were on but Marred advanced on it anyway, passing through the front garden which had become nothing more than a tangle of weeds and thorns before reaching the front door. Out of her pocket, Marred fished out an ancient bronze key and fit it into the house's lock. It turned and the door swung open, bringing the inside of the cottage to light.
Though the outside appearance of the cottage gave an air of abandonment, the inside was free of dust, cobwebs and anything else that might indicate a lack of inhabitancy. Instead, the surfaces were clean, the rooms were freshly decorated, paintings hung on the walls and a pot of flowers was set in each of the downstairs rooms.
Marred discarded the keys on a small table by the front door, closing the wooden barrier behind her as she ventured in. She trudged upstairs to the attic, her fatigue evident in all that she did; everything from her posture to the look on her face. The attic had been converted into a long hallway with two rooms on each side and one at the very end. It was this room that Marred entered without even a glance at any of the close doors she passed.
The room was not painted or decorated, the stone walls were bare and the wooden floor was its natural colour. A bed was situated in the middle of the room covered in black silk sheets with scarlet trimming. A window near the floor let in moonlight and a wardrobe stood ever vigilant against the wall at the far end from the door. A desk waited in one corner covered in paper and make-up. Marred stood before it, taking out her contacts before and collapsing on the bed. She didn't even bother to undress or crawl under the covers; she would deal with the consequences in the morning when she had the energy.
Sun leaked into the room from the tiny window and Marred tossed in her bed, trying to avoid it. When the sun seemed to pursue her, she gave up and hauled herself into a sitting position with a groan. Her back ached from sleeping in an awkward position and her black attire was crinkled to the extreme. She silently thanked herself for having the foresight not to fall asleep with her contacts in again. That tended to be painful. Marred had very poor eyesight, she was so short sighted that all of she could see of her feet was a black blur.
A sardonic smile crossed her face and a weary laugh passed from her lips.
"I left my shoes on," she muttered to herself, getting off the bed. "No more Sunday gigs… god, it's like a hangover."
Marred staggered out of the room and into the bathroom down the hall. She peeled off her clothes before getting into the shower and turning on the water. It was ice cold at first, crashing down on her back and causing her to gasp even though she knew it was coming. After washing quickly, she braced herself to face the mirror, opening her eyes to see a panda. Her black makeup from the night before had run down her pale cheeks and her eyes appeared to be a dull gray when surrounded by the marks. Sighing, Marred brushed her wet hair into a tight plait as the beginning of her transformation.
Half an hour later, Marred became Jessabel and she left the cottage carrying a bag. Her outfit was not black but a light cream jumper, blue jeans and a pair of white trainers. Jessabel, as rule, wore no makeup and so looked almost completely different from her singing alter-ego. Her eyes were blue, a bright colour when not dampened by the effects of black makeup, and her eyelashes were blonde making them almost invisible behind her large, round glasses.
The beginning of the school year was unimportant to Jessabel. She arrived, found her homeroom and copied down her schedule. She didn't bother looking for anyone or trying to find out who she shared classes with; to Jessabel, school was a necessary evil that she bore with on her own. Living virtually on her own had made Jessabel scathingly independent and solitary. Most of her classmates had never heard her speak and even some of her teachers were under the impression she was mute.
She sat on her own in the corner and got her work done, she was never late, never disrespectful and always handed her homework in on time, therefore the teachers were happy with her. She wasn't smart enough for anyone to pressure her into doing their homework, she wasn't ugly or weird enough to bully in any other way, she didn't steal anyone's boyfriend and the popular crowd showed no interest in her so therefore… the students just ignored her. That was the way Jessabel liked it, she got enough attention as Marred and so long as she got to sing, she could put up with that.
Jessabel sat in the corner, eyes focused on a blank piece of paper as a new melody came to life in her mind. She scribbled down some notes and the beat in shorthand before noticing that the room had become suspiciously quiet. Jessabel looked up briefly to see that a teacher had walked in. She dismissed his appearance and continued to write until unfamiliar voices sounded.
"I'm Debitto," one voice introduced himself.
"And I'm Jasdero," the other chimed, ending it with a short burst of laughter.
"And we're known as Jasdevi," they said in perfect unison.
Jessabel's interest peaked at the last comment. Most people didn't join schools together, let alone have a collective name for themselves. Lazily, she raised her head to view the new pair only to have her mouth open slightly from the shock.
"The psychos," she whispered.