You're the Only One (Max Green) That Died
Chapter 1
Piercing screams entered her ears as the loud guitar riffs echoed across the crowded venue. The room was filled with sweat, tears, and desperation. Though, Amy couldn't come to a valid conclusion as to why there would be desperation in the first place. The belting adolescent females around her cried with hysterical evidence, shoving and grabbing the person closest to them in the mosh pit. All around Amy, they all seemed to be determined to reach one objective: the stage.
"Move it!"
Amy turned slowly to her right to examine the victim of the angered voice. She wasn't surprised or shocked to see a young girl, probably around the age of fifteen, wearing a loose Iron Maiden shirt and vivid yellow skinny jeans. The makeup on her face was smeared drastically due to the perspiration in the room. Her hair, teased and colored a bright purple, was outstretched crazily around her pale face. Amy could never fully distinguish this peculiar style. Why so many girls wore childish colors and admired such characters as Hello Kitty, could be brought up to wear anything Iron Maiden; one of the most brutal heavy metal bands of the century. She wondered if they even knew anything song of theirs; disregarding Number of the Beast, of course.
Amy snapped her head away from the Iron Maiden girl, not wanting to appear as if she was staring creepily. The last thing she wanted was to get into a fight at a concert in which she didn't even appreciate the main act. A few days earlier, her friend Sara had introduced gleefully that she wanted to take Amy to a concert. Amy, being pessimistic and dreadful towards any form of rock appreciation, automatically denied Sara's offer. But, soon feeling guilt and regret, she soon agreed to accompany Sara at this now hectic party that was formally called a "concert."
Amy groaned uncomfortably around the chaotic teenagers. She awkwardly pulled her new satin skirt down, so it fit strict under her knees. She regretted wearing her most formal wear. Sara knew Amy had never been to a concert, let alone a rock concert, and failed to tell her that the attire should be causal, not like you're going to a job interview. Which is sadly what Amy was dressed similar to.
Her straight black skirt fit tightly around her thighs, leaving no room for any inappropriate exposure. She wore a loose-fitting white blouse, covered by a black shrug. Low heels rested under her sore feet. Her sinister dark brown hair was pulled loosely into a ponytail, leaving strands falling on her olive shoulder. Oh how she could murder Sara at this very moment.
Sara on the other hand, was in a more ecstatic mood than Amy was in. Her platinum blonde hair fell limply and wet around her shoulders, her excited blue eyes were rimmed with thick eyeliner, making her scarily resemble a raccoon. She wore a loose fitting band-tee with an unfamiliar name bearing on the front. Of course, in the darkness of the venue, Amy couldn't make it out. She noticed Sara wearing bright skinny jeans like the Iron Maiden girl, but hers were red. Sara was jumping around animatedly, throwing her arms in numerous directions.
Amy swiftly nudged Sara in the waist.
"What? What is it?" asked Sara with a loud voice. Amy knew she was too distracted in the musicians on stage to be showing her any regard. She hadn't even looked in Amy's direction.
"When is this thing over? My body feels like it's going to collapse soon." Amy shook her throbbing leg out to prove her point.
Sara snorted amusingly beside her. "Welcome to a mosh pit, tool."
Amy shot her friend a dirty glance, only to be returned an innocent smirk. "You didn't tell me this was going to be an animal house!"
Sara shrugged angelically, causing a few strands of her hair to fall in front of her shoulders. "Forgot."
Amy huffed impatiently and focused her hard glare onto the close stage. "Who are these guys anyway?"
Sara turned to her with a raised eyebrow. "I already told you; Escape the Fate."
Now it was Amy's turn to snort. "What an original name."
A guy next to her who was sporting a long red fringe glared at her with icy eyes.
Sara noticed this and nudged her. "Shut the hell up; do you want to find yourself in a hospital gurney?"
Any shook her head. "Spare me."
Throughout the rest of the droning concert, Amy stood as still as a statue while bodies danced around her. By the time the hour had passed, her hair was matted to her rosy cheeks, and she could feel sweat under her clothed arms. Her feet burned with intense pain and she wanted nothing more but to take her shoes off. But Amy didn't want to discover the disgusting trash and other unknown horrors found on the cement floor.
"Thank you, Chicago! You guys fucking rocked the show!" the lead man belted into the microphone, as more girls screamed in response.
Amy breathed with relief so immense, she felt as if she would cry with joy at any given moment.
"Finally," she murmured under her breath as people all around her moved tiredly to leave the venue.
"Aw come on, it wasn't that bad," Sara said smiling from beside her.
Amy gave her a look which caused the smile on her face to evaporate.
Sara rolled her eyes and grabbed Amy's arm hurriedly, dragging her towards the exit doors. Amy tried loosening her friend's grip, but she gave no avail. She was forcefully dragged through the lobby of the venue, and through the front doors which finally lead to freedom. She breathed with pleasure as her burning face was met with a dash of cold air.
"Where are we going, Sar?"
Sara smiled mischievously as she dragged Amy along to the deserted alley beside the venue. Amy could easily distinguish the smell of burning pot, and the sound of cracked laughter.
"What are we doing here?" Amy whispered harshly to her friend.
Sara easily ignored her question like the previous time, and only resorted into dragging her even deeper into the alley. Amy with weakness gave up struggle and decided to follow Sara. How bad could the situation end up anyway? No, she shouldn't mentally ask that question; she had asked it before the concert as well, and was met with sheer disappointment.
Amy heard Sara squeal with horrific delight, and she looked at her with curiosity. She was about to ask Sara why she was so excited when she came about the answer herself.
Against the wall lamp –lighted brick wall, was a huddled group of young men. They looked roughly around the age of twenty, and they all held similar cigars in between two shaking fingers. Amy recognized them immediately; the musicians of Escape the Fate. She inwardly groaned. Now she understood why Sara had dragged her all the way to this dreadful area.
"I knew they came here after gigs to smoke. Heard it from a friend," said Sara quietly, answering Amy's mental question.
The five guys slowly turned to the sound of Sarah's and Amy's approaching footsteps. Amy silently cursed herself for wearing high heels. Some of them smirked with slyness, the rest of them either raised an eye-brow or gave them a blank stare. Amy wished at this point to crawl into some black void and disappear from mortality.
"Fans..." the guy Amy recognized as the singer, said. His messy brown hair stood crazily on ends as his eyeliner crinkled as he grinned. His damp red shirt fit tightly around his slim finger, and Amy noticed he too was sporting skinny jeans; his were black.
The guy on his right smiled impishly; his eyes swarmed with excitement. Amy realized his nature unfortunately resembled the one of Sara. And also like her, he had a head thick of platinum blonde hair. In a weird way it suited him; in a weird way it didn't. He was wearing a tight sleeveless black shirt and black skinny jeans as well.
Amy automatically recognized the tall male beside him; he was of course the drummer of the band. He stood fairly above all the other members in height. He also carried a more original look, Amy noted. His hair was wildly curly, and fell long past his shoulders. And though it was pitch dark outside, dim sunglasses were perched on his face. She noticed with great shock, he looked almost identical to Slash, minus the top hat and platform boots. He was one of the guys that had raised an eyebrow at Amy's and Sara's entrance.
The next guy stood isolated against the wall, looking at the cigar between his lips as his fingers cupped the white stick. Amy thought he appeared the oldest and most mature out of the band. His face showed little youth, and she realized with relief that his style was tamer than the rest of the members. He wore a simple striped sweater and dark blue jeans. His face was stern and somewhat round, and she noticed his hair was short and light brown. She would rather associate with this guy, than the other members surrounding him.
The last guy Amy's eyes landed on caused her stomach to gorge. She despised him automatically. His eyes, green and harsh, were staring directly into her pupils. She forced herself to not gasp out loud. His pale face seemed to be made of pasty stone. His midnight hair hung limply around his face. His lips, pierced, were set into a strict straight line; they were so tight together they barely appeared visible. She noticed he too was wearing an Iron Maiden shirt like the girl back at the venue. And without surprise, his legs were surrounded by black skinny jeans. His stare remained blank.
"Welcome to the party," welcomed the singer, though Amy could make out the sarcasm from his every word.
Sara did a short squeal as she clapped her hands together in reflex. The guys noticed her excitement and quickly shared an amused glance with each other. Sara noticed this, and her smiled grew wider; she now resembled the Cheshire cat.
"You guys were unbelievable! I mean, Ronnie, your voice was just incredible!" Sara said with thrill as she looked directly at the lead.
But before Ronnie could reply with gratitude, Sara quickly moved her compliments over to the Slash look-alike. "Robert, your beats were epic! You didn't go off-beat once!"
But as before, she quickly turned on the platinum boy. "Bryan, your riffs are pure fucking ecstasy!"
She turned to the mature guy against the wall. "Oh Omar! Your chords sound as if they're being played in the studio!"
Amy mentally slapped her fore-head. She knew Sara was making a complete fool of herself, but of course, nothing could be done. Amy knew her friend worshipped this band like pregnant teens did to Maury Povich. She knew her mental analogy was scarily accurate.
"Max, Max, Max! You fucking own at bass!" Sara said resembling a kid experiencing serious sugar rush.
Max gave her a crooked smirk and nodded his head. "Thanks, doll."
Sara's face grew red at the pet name given to her by her favorite bassist. She quickly went to Amy's side and whispered in her ear. "He called me doll! Did you fucking hear that, did you?!"
Amy rolled her eyes with disbelief. "Calm yourself. You sound like you're high."
Sara squeezed her arm enthusiastically. "Oh, I am darling! High with love!"
Amy slapped Sara's arm firmly. "Get a hold of yourself, Trent." She knew using Sara's last name would calm her down.
Sara acted in accordance and ceased her highness. "Sorry."
Without one moment's hesitation, Sara turned back to the men that made up Escape the Fate.
"This is my friend, Amy," Sara said, pointing shortly to Amy beside her. Amy felt her face grow warm.
She quickly nodded at them, her eyes never leaving her heeled feet. "Heya."
Sara quickly chopped into the thick awkward silence. "She's not really familiar with your music. I dragged her to this concert."
The glances of the five guys quickly turned to amusement and interest.
"She hasn't, eh?" the guy known as Ronnie said with an egotistical smirk.
"I'm not one that takes a liking to music," Amy mumbled under her low breath.
"You don't like…music?" Bryan asked with wide brown eyes; he looked like a child who realized the non-existence of Santa Claus.
"I don't have time for it, really…" said Amy, droning off with hopelessness.
"That's bull-shit, honey. Everyone has time for music. It's what keeps us sane," explained Robert, his head staring at her direction. She knew that if she would see his eyes behind his dark lenses they would be filled with seriousness.
Sane? Never had Amy encountered such [in]sane people before. They were barbaric, lunatic, and wild. In no way, would she ever categorize them as "sane."
"Look. I just don't appreciate music, alright?" retorted Amy through her gritted teeth; she was finally becoming aggravated.
Sara laughed lightly beside her. "She doesn't necessarily mean that…she's not having a good night tonight," her friend said in her defense.
"Why, is it that time of the month currently?" the guy known as Max said with an insensitive smirk.
Amy whipped her direction quickly to that of Max's. Her brown eyes darkly and intently met his green eyes.
"That was uncalled for," Amy said with danger hidden in her voice.
The guy put his hands up sarcastically and rolled his eyes. "Sorry. Didn't know you women were so sensitive."
Amy snarled, her lips pulled back in a grimace. "I didn't know you egotistical pricks were so insensitive."
Max's sarcastic grin quickly transformed into her identical snare. "What the fucks up your ass, sweetheart?"
"You are, you unsympathetic person." Amy quickly felt a warm rush of frustrated tears surrounding the lids of her eyes. She rapidly snatched her stare from his, turning her back on the male group. "I'll wait in the front, Sar."
Without hesitation, or a wait for her friend's response, Amy ruthlessly marched off to the front of the venue, and away from the imbeciles. As she grew farther away from the crowd, she could still clearly hear their voices.
"Aw, now why'd you have to do that, Green? You got her upset and shit," Bryan's voice exclaimed from a distance.
"Not my fault she's a control-freak," Max's voice said harshly in his defense.
The voices grew more mumbled and unrecognizable as Amy drifted toward the front of the venue. Amy's eyes grew wet with angry emotion. Her stomach was knotted with frustration, and her cold hands were balled into tight fists.
"The nerve of him..." she mumbled, feeling her throat getting clogged up with sentiment.
A few moments later, Amy heard the closing of scuffling feet. She slowly looked up, prepared to see the eyes of the villain, but was only met with the sympathetic irises of her close friend.
"He was rude Amy, I know," Sara said as she wrapped an arm around Amy's stiff shoulders. Amy felt a rush of relief and appreciation as she felt her friend's love melt the fury from her chest.
"He was," Amy said shortly, looking at her dark shoes.
"Ronnie gave me his number," Sara said with slight happiness, giving Amy's shoulders a quick squeeze.
Amy simply nodded. "Nice."
Amy looked up to meet Sara's knowing eyes. "If it makes you feel better, Omar and Bryan scolded Max for being such a git."
Amy smiled slightly with her currently chapped lips. "They did, eh?"
Sara chuckled and nodded. "Yeah."
And in silence, the two friends walked toward a parked and isolated taxi cab, eager to crawl into their own welcoming beds.