"What are you doing here?" Sesha dropped her house key to the floor at the person standing in front of her face.
"I haven't seen you in two years. I just figured I should see how you were doing," Tom said nervously. Standing in the same room with his dead brother's girlfriend wasn't exactly the answer to the 'Where do you see yourself...?' question he had answered earlier in life.
"I'm fine," Sesha said coldly. Tom wasn't the first person she wasn't to see. It just brought back all the memories and made her realize even more that what had happened wasn't her imagination.
"How can you be fine? Have you talked to anyone about it?" he stepped closer to her.
"I have."
"How many people?"
"Two," she dropped her bag and headed toward her room, Tom following helplessly.
"Have you cried?"
"Of course I've cried. What are you? Some kind of idiot?" she was becoming angry. Why did everyone decide they wanted to mess with her today...all at once. There was Nadia, Matt, Palmer, and now Tom was following her around like he was a lost puppy, "I just cried today."
"You don't look like you're fine. You look like you're on drugs," he raised his voice at her.
A cold, hard knot formed in Tom's throat when Sesha turned around, eyeing him suspiciously. "Oh my, God. You are on drugs. --Aren't you?" He dreaded the answer, though she didn't respond, "Sesha, don't do this to yourself. What would Bill think?"
"Do you honestly think I haven't asked myself that, Tom?!" Sesha screamed, "do you honestly think that every single time I put one of those little, white pills in my mouth I don't think about what Bill would think? He'd be disappointed, I know, but guess what? --Bill's dead. There's really nothing he can do about it. Is there?"
Tom stepped back, giving Sesha the satisfaction of knowing her words had impacted him. -No response, "I didn't think so. So why don't you just get back to your stupid, little, worthless band and leave me alone."
"There's no band, Sesha. Georg moved, Gustav's living here in the U.S., and I sold all of my guitars. Tokio Hotel's done," Tom announced. Sesha ran her fist over her eyes. Her face was numb to the tears stinging her cheeks.
"Good, you guys are nothing without Bill anyway," she whispered.
"I know you loved him, but-," Tom began.
"No, I didn't. I didn't love him," she interrupted.
"BUT...that doesn't mean you have to take your anger out on me. I haven't done anything to you."
"I don't care what you've done, Tom," Sesha clicked play on her computer.
"Who is this?" Tom was trying desperately to understand why Sesha wouldn't just talk to him.
"A band," she replied.
"Who?"
"3OH!3," she murmured.
He listened closely to the lyrics, only able to understand the four lines that made up the chorus and a few chunks before.
Go ahead ... burn...down
I'm drunk...everyone else
...devil town
They won't let me turn around,
...one last look at my baby,
Well, she's still around.
Well, she's still around.
Well, she's still around.
Well, she's still around.
"Sounds kind of depressing," he noted.
"Yeah, well, I'm kind of depressed," she stated solemnly.
"I can stick around, if you want," he offered. Apparently, she was in need of someone to care. -And since she wasn't living with her parents anymore, they couldn't stop her.
"Why would I want that?" she kicked a shirt across the floor and into her baby blue dirty clothes hamper.
"Because you need help. I know this isn't what Bill would've wanted," he glanced at her open closet. Black, black, black, with the occasional touch of white or orange.
"I don't care...what Bill would've wanted. Bill...is...dead. And there's nothing you, or I, or anyone else can do to change that, Tom," Sesha was trying not to cry, but she was also failing...miserably.