New Life: Chapter One

Sam and Cat

Pied Piper

I'm supposed to be the soldier who never blows his composure
Even though I hold the weight of the whole world on my shoulders
I am never supposed to show it, my crew ain't supposed to know it
Even if it means goin' toe to toe with a Benzino it don't matter

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I keep staring at the piece of paper in my hand. It's too dark to read it now, but I've been like this for hours. I had all night, but I couldn't write anything. I keep telling myself I can do this: I can make it. I can write this song. That's what I do. I don't tell anyone about it…not since Carly. I never gave up, though. I've been in the game since I was a kid. I don't know anything else. How the hell am I supposed to keep going if I can't write, though? Every hour passes by so slow, but I waste every minute. It's like I'm afraid. That doesn't make sense, though; my rhymes are the only way I've ever been able to express myself. It gets the poison out of my system. What's wrong with me?

The sun's rising over the water. Everything's still cold from night, but I like that feeling. It's like I'm coming alive. I don't know how long I've been here. Suddenly, I feel a warm hand on my shoulder. I look away from my writing and turn around to see Cat smiling at me. "Hey, Kitten," I say, putting my work away. "How'd you sleep?"

"Good. You?" Cat replied, her voice sweet and gentle. She'd been looking for me; she always looks for me when she wakes up alone in our bedroom.

"I slept okay," I lied effortlessly. "Thanks."

"I've got breakfast waiting for you back home," the redheaded girl promised me, taking my hand and gently pulling me towards the apartment. "Come on, it's cold out here."

With a smile, I gave in. "Okay," I agreed, going where Cat was taking me. I couldn't let go of what I'd been writing, though. I was tore up.

Hailie, I know you miss your mom
And I know you miss your dad when I'm gone
But I'm tryin' to give you the life that I never had
I can see you're sad
Even when you smile
Even when you laugh
I can see it in your eyes
Deep inside you wanna cry
Cuz you're scared
I ain't there,
Daddy's with you in your prayers

"Hey, Cat," I groan into my phone, the night-shaded world spinning around me. "Hey, I think I need you to give me a ride home…I'm sorry. Yeah, I'm there. Okay. See you in a few. Love you." Hanging up, I feel a dizzy spell flash through my body, forcing me to grab the wall beside me as my legs started to give out. It was like staying awake long past midnight; too tired and too torn up to do anything. It felt like I was broken; that I'd never get over this. Finally, the car drove up to the club, Cat threw open the passenger door, I staggered inside, closed and locked the door, and turned to my friend, then watched it all disappear as she drove through the city. "Thank you," I sighed, already beating myself up.

"You shouldn't be drinking like this, Sam," Cat replied, not taking her eyes off the road. Her voice was sweet but forceful and concerned. "Why do you keep doing this to yourself? You know how miserable you make yourself."

"I don't wanna talk about it," I shot back, resting my head against the chilled glass of the door.

"But we have to," Cat shouted. "I'm not always going to be there, and one day you're going to kill yourself. I don't want that to happen, but you're not doing anything to help yourself. Why won't you let me help you? Why do you always have to keep everything pent up? I'm your friend. You can trust me."

"Cat, please," I beg, clenching my forehead and resting my aching eyes. With that, the car became silent. The next morning, I woke up sick and hung over in my bed. "Thanks, Cat," I whispered, struggling to sit up.

Have you ever loved someone so much, you'd give an arm for?
Not the expression, no, literally give an arm for?
When they know they're your heart
And you know you were their armor
And you will destroy anyone who would try to harm her
But what happens when karma, turns right around and bites you?
And everything you stand for turns on you, despite you?

I spend almost the entire day alone in our room. Once I got the strength to get myself out of bed, I hobbled into the bathroom and threw up. Hours passed until I was able to make it into the living room. But Cat wasn't there. I had to wait. I fell asleep a couple of times, but I finally woke up on the couch to her sitting on the chair. "Hey, Kitten," I croaked out. Smiling, the red haired girl helped me up and into our room. I fell asleep at about nine, woke up around midnight, then closed my eyes until six a.m. Cat helped me; got me through the night. She always does. Making my way into the kitchen, I started making breakfast. This time, I didn't pour any vodka into my orange juice. This would be a normal morning for Cat and I.

That same night, I'm at the club again, trying to finish what I'm writing. It's cold outside even with my jacket on. I can't tell if Cat's mad at me or not from here. I'm not trying to hurt her. I never do. I'm just trying to make this happen. We can do better than just get by. I can still make my dream happen. I couldn't do any of this if not for her, though. Then, I make my decision; my first song would be dedicated to Cat. That's not gonna mean anything if I can't finish it, though. I've gotta make all this up to her: she's always been there for me.

And I'm so caught in it I almost feel I'm the one who caused it
This ain't what I'm in hip-hop for, it's not why I got in it

That was never my object for someone to get killed
Why would I wanna destroy something I help build?

I've been out walking all night, trying to get home. It's the dead of night, but the street lights let me see everything. I'm in shadow, though. I don't look like myself: I'm another person: Another woman. Taking another corner, I lean my hand against the cool brick wall, staggering my way on.

His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy
There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti
He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready to drop bombs

I remember the town, but I can't get close to home. I haven't been walking in circles: I've been making my way through the city all night, but I'm never getting any closer. I'd call Cat to give me a ride home, but she's been through enough. She won't have to worry, this way. Feeling my stomach turn onto its side within me, I feel my wobbling legs fill with weakness and an icy overflow of helplessness. Bending over into a filthy alley, I choke and gag as the bile pours out of my mouth and splashes on the cement. Forcing myself to cough harder, just to get all the filth out of me, I finally hear myself retching and suffering…All my fault. My throat washes over with throbbing, burning waste, I fall onto my knees, dumping more and more filth out of my body. In that instant, I start to die. That really doesn't bother me, though. Dying wouldn't be that bad. Maybe I'd be doing okay again if I just passed on. Cat would be happy: no one left to worry about. She could finally surround herself with decent people again, and she'd be happy. My arms tightly wrapped around my stomach, I force my eyes shut and let the rest come out. Too weak and sick to raise myself, I throw my body down on its side, just trying to avoid the vomit. There was alcohol in that. I don't want any alcohol inside of me. The ground is so cold and slimy. I cough, spitting out drops of thick bile, and start to let myself fall asleep.

"Son of a bitch," someone says in my dream. Fighting an agonizing, pounding headache, I tighten my eyes, then open them, turning towards whoever was bothering me. Three faces: two male, one female with scars and piercings all over her face. They're a gang. One of them has a chain partially wrapped around his arm, which he was going to use as a whip, the other has a wooden baseball bat, and the girl's hands are shaking. "Hey, babe. You waiting for us? Begging for it."

Forcing myself onto my feet, I spit to the side, and stared them down. "You motherfuckers looking to start something big?" I ask, my voice still cracking from the ordeal. One of the boys laughs while chain-boy scowls. The girl looks legitimately pissed off. I'd met their kind before, and I was sick and tired of them. Clenching my fists, I drive my knuckles into chain-boy's left cheek in a hook punch. He nearly falls on his ass, but he gets back in place. "Fuck do you want?" I scream at the others, running at them. I throw my open hand into the girl's face in a slap-backhand move, and then I ram my body against the idiot with the bat. Suddenly, something hits me hard on the back, striking a nerve and knocking me onto my knees. It was chain-boy. The wuss smacks me in the left cheek with the bat, starting an unbearable fire on that side of my face, and knocking me onto the ground. I vaguely feel the vomit starting to soak my hair. Suddenly, the girl grabs my shirt at the collar, tearing it, and forcing me upward as she began slapping me, her nails cutting into my face, punching me in the eyes, nose, mouth, and stomach, and then assaulting me in a way I can't make out.

When I finally come to, I'm sore, bruised, aching, hungover, cold, weak, tired, and alone in a place I've never been and do not remember. I smell my own blood and vomit in the damp, muggy air of the slowly birthing dawn. The worst pain's in my stomach, making it five minutes of hell just trying to stand up. Finally, I give up and fall to the ground. I didn't have any money left on me, so I wasn't robbed. All I had was my phone, which I feel digging into my hip. It's probably broken, but I can't even open my eyes through the pain to see it right now. I cough up blood in small spurts and then try to fall asleep on the ground. Maybe I'll wake up in a better place. Somehow, I see Cat standing in front of the sunrise. She's terrified and trying not to cry. "Hey Cat," my weak, coarse whisper of a voice cracks out under my heavy breath. She helps me up, lets me hang my arm around her shoulder, and carefully walks me up to the car. She sets me in the shotgun seat, locks the doors, then gets in the driver's seat. All the windows are up, and she starts the car down the road. Letting my head fall onto my left shoulder, closer to Cat, I wince, trying to move my stomach into a position that doesn't hurt. "I am so sorry," I cough, unable to keep my eyes open or my words from slurring in exhaustion. "Thank you…for picking me up." I cough again, only managing to cover my mouth once the fit was over.

Cat doesn't talk. We keep driving. I think I'm on my way to our apartment: My eyes were closed, so all I could do was assume. It's so hot. I'm so cold. I open my eyes after a minute, and there's a blanket over me. There are some small blood stains on the yellow fabric. "Thanks, Cat," I choke out. "You got anything to drink?" Slamming on the brakes, Cat turns to me, and slaps me harder than I've ever felt before on my red, swollen left cheek. I scream in pain, and she cries.

Once I wake up, I feel clean again. Everything's aching, my left eye won't open, my head's wrapped in something tight, my body's weak and nearly unable to move, my finger's clamped in a greenish-blue device that kind of looks like a paper-holding magnet on Cat and my fridge, I can't breathe through my nose because there's two thick plastic tubes shoved deep inside them, my head only hurts when I try to move, my stomach's sick, and I finally feel warm. I glance down to see I'm in a white hospital gown and covered with white sheets. Coughing, I try to call someone. Then, I black out again.

What happens when you become the main source of her pain?

When I come to again, Cat's sitting next to my bed. She's calmed down alot. She's even smiling at me. "Hey, Sam," she says, her voice so sweet it's almost upsetting.

"Hey, angel," I croak, unable to get up from my lying position. "Where am I? Am I okay?"

"You're at Eternal Mercy Hospital," the redheaded girl answers. "You're gonna be alright."

"…Are you alright?" I reply, jerking my head up slightly. I don't think she answered. "I'm so sorry, Cat. I don't wanna hurt you…especially not like this. I tried tonight…I tried to make something happen. But I didn't do it…I just fucked up." I never want to swear in front of Cat.

"Ssh," my friend whispers, moving my covers up so they covered my tender chest. "You got mugged…they didn't think you would last the night. I knew, though. I prayed." I tried my hardest to smile. "But Sam, you have to stop. Stop drinking, stop going out, stop…hurting yourself. I love you, and you're killing us both. Please…you said we'd have one of our old mornings…but you went out and got drunk again."

"I'm so sorry," I gasp, laying down and closing my eyes. "I don't want it anymore…I don't want to put that stuff inside of me anymore. I'm so sorry." Coughing, I hear something beep louder. "I've gotta know…are we still friends?"

"We'll always be friends, Sam," Cat promises me, kissing my uncovered hand. "I'm not leaving you alone again." And she stayed by my side the whole time. Once I was completely clean, they let me go home. Cat drove me, helped me inside, and set up the hideaway in the living room, tucking the two of us in. We must've stayed there for about three days. Three Days Grace. Two friends standing in the sun for three days. "I love you, Cat," I whispered, finally able to see out of both eyes again.

All I know is you came to me when I was at my lowest

You picked me up, breathing life in me; I owe my life to you

Like whatever they say has no bearing, it's so scary in a house that allows
no swearing
To see him walking around with his headphones blaring
Alone in his own zone, cold and he don't care
He's a problem child
And what bothers him all comes out, when he talks about…

I've been clean since that night. Cat and I are healing all the old wounds and starting to build a new life together; a real life. But my work's not done yet. I've got to make things better. We can do better than just getting by. "I promise," I told Cat, gently parting the red locks blocking her face. "I'm gonna make all this worth it…I'm never gonna drink again. But I've got to finish this song."

"…Okay," she replies, gently but tightly wrapping her arms around me. "Follow your dreams. Just don't forget about me, please."

"Never," I answer. "Everything I'm doing is for you, Kitten." She looks me in the eyes, and smiles the most innocent, loving smile I've ever seen in my entire life. "This song's for you," I promise.

No more games, I'ma change what you call rage
Tear this motherfucking roof off like two dogs caged
I was playing in the beginning, the mood all changed
I've been chewed up and spat out and booed off stage
But I kept rhyming and stepped right into the next cypher
Best believe somebody's paying the pied piper
All the pain inside amplified by the fact
That I can't get by with my 9 to 5

And I can't provide the right type of life for my family

I never thought I'd be able to move on. Never thought I'd be able to use my friendship to build something more. I never thought I wouldn't go it alone. But here I am. I love Cat like my own sister, and this is all for her…maybe it's about me, too. I finished the song because of her. I learned what it really meant because of what happened with my mom, Carly, Freddie, and Spencer, Cat, Melanie, growing up, and finding something better. I don't have to stay in that dark place anymore.

Bending over into a filthy alley, I choke and gag as the bile pours out of my mouth and splashes on the cement. Forcing myself to cough harder, just to get all the filth out of me, I finally hear myself retching and suffering…All my fault.

I had all night, but I couldn't write anything. I keep telling myself I can do this: I can make it. I can write this song. That's what I do. I don't tell anyone about it…not since Carly.

"I am so sorry," I cough, unable to keep my eyes open or my words from slurring in exhaustion. "Thank you…for picking me up."

"This one's for you, Cat," I proudly say before walking out onto the stage. Cat stands backstage, watching me from the safety of the curtains. My eyes are dark and bloodshot, my hair's grizzly and thrown hard in different directions, my pulse is like a lightning storm, my heart's floating and fluttering like I'm in love, and for the first time in my life, I'm ready to make a difference again. Grabbing the mike, I look out at the audience and see them all. "This one's for Cat," I cry out, letting the blazing spotlights swallow everything. The room turns into a warzone, but all I hear is what I'm reading: the words I spent so long putting together: the friendships I'd lost and the new ones I've forged. I'm ready.

In the end, they're all screaming and cheering. They say I'm the answer to their prayers. They say they've never seen or heard anything like this, and they can't live without it now. They say I'm a miracle. They say I've started something. They say I've finished something. They say they'll always know my name. "This is all for you, Cat," I cry out with strength and pride. Cat runs out from backstage and hugs me while I hold the mike into the air. All around us, the crowd roars.