Sigh.

One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day.

"We're opening up the store now, Miss Gates," some unimportant person informed me as I drummed absentmindedly on the table before me. The chanting inside my head continued as I waited for the flood of people to run in and start screaming questions and names at me. All the while expecting me to answer each and every personal question they threw at me, answer every question they had about my warped mind and where I get the ideas for my novels and wrote the correct name on the inside of their books. Anyone else feel the beginning pulsing of a migraine?

"Dess, you look like you're about to commit homicide." I looked up to see my manager was hovering by my side. I shrugged and went back to staring blankly at absolutely nothing. "Dess!" she snapped.

I slowly twisted my head to see that a line of people had formed in front of me. Why hadn't I heard their inane chatter? Oh yeah. Because I was slowly going insane with depression. The first group of people were all smiles and bright eyes. All were female and all wanted to know about Brian. I did what I usually do in these situations; pretended to concentrate on signing their books before the floor manager sent them on their way and kept the line moving. It continued like this until my wrist was actually beginning to swell and my head felt like it was going to explode and cover each of these perfectly dressed people with spatters of brain, bone and blood. Ooh. Mental note; remember what I just thought about my head exploding.

I left the book store in a daze, Lucy's arm gripping my wrist tightly to guide me to the car that would take me back to the hotel. She also had to take me from the car and upstairs. I was fine from there.

I sat on the edge of the bed I called my own for the moment before I fell back and grabbed my cell off the night stand. Six messages. All of them variations of "where are you?" To get the point across, one was even in broken Spanish. All of them from Brian, of course.

I hit the call back button and held the phone to my ear as a shrill ringing filtered from the ear piece. "Where have you been?!"

"I told you," I sighed, " I had a signing today."

"You sound depressed, are you depressed?"

I wondered for a moment if I would actually get away with lying. He'd give me hell if I did. "Yup," I answered, nodding even though he couldn't see me.

"Why are you depressed? You shouldn't be depressed because being depressed is depressing."

"What the fuck have you been smoking?" I asked with a nervous laugh. He was never like this. How many times has he said depressed in the last few minutes?

"I haven't smoked a thing, Dess, you'd be proud. I just want to know. And I want you to know that you shouldn't be depressed. We have one more day, right? So, the way I see it, I'll see you soon and then I'll forget all about being away from you because I won't be away from you, you'll be right there beside me."

He said all of this so quickly, it took me a minute to process his words. There was definitely some sort of narcotic in his body. I was about to speak when I heard the phone being passed, unwillingly, to someone else. The voice that spoke was one I knew very well.

"Brian's been drinking. Heavily."

"Sounds like him," I smiled softly. "Why haven't you been drinking? You're the worst out of all of us." I listened closely as he began to mumble something about a 'designated driver'. "You are the designated driver?" I asked. Shock was not the word for what I was feeling at hearing those words come from Jimmy Sullivan's mouth. "How the hell did that happen?"

"I drew the short straw, Dessy. How's the tour?"

"I'm close to giving up."

"You say that every time this happens. You know you'll be more than fine when we join forces to battle the evil minions known as fans."

I had to laugh at this, it was impossible not to. "See?" I could hear the smile in his voice. "You can't be that depressed if you're laughing after just a few minutes of talking to me." "You've always had that effect on me, though, so it doesn't count." I had a moment where I wanted to stick my tongue out in the empty room. I really was about to lose my last shred of sanity. Though I knew the little Dess inside my head was clinging onto it for dear life.

"It always counts!" he said back to me, outraged. "Anyway. I heard you're depressed?" he had put on his psychiatrist voice, making me laugh softly again.

"However did you get that impression?"

"Hmm… Maybe from the fact that Brian said some variation of the word while he was talking to you? Or it could just be because I know your voice so well and you don't sound like you. Come on, Little Gates, don't be depressing on me. I count on you to be as insane as me!"

"Sweetie, I have no sanity left anymore. You don't need to worry about me not being insane." I reassured him as the little me inside my head lost her grip on sanity. I could almost feel her tiny fists connect with my brain as she bawled, legs and fists thumping whichever surface they could reach.

"Good good. Before I forget! Are you going home at all before you fly out tomorrow?"

"I don't have time to, Jimothy. Why?" "Leana and I can't remember if we asked someone to look after Mr. Bungle while we were gone. I thought that, if you were going home then you could, you know, feed him and make sure he's alive and stuff."

"James, you useless ass. I was in charge of making sure everyone's pets were going to be taken care of while we were out of town. Mr. Bungle is fine, mom's looking after him."

I heard a sigh of relief on the other side. "I honestly thought I was going to be burying my dragon when I got home. But why is mom looking after him? She hates the 'scaly little fucker'." I laughed at him quoting my mom, changing his voice to imitate her. She technically wasn't Jimmy's mother, but he had lived with us since he was fourteen and she was his mother in all the ways that really counted.

"Because dad won't even look at him and I honestly do not trust any of the people you call friends. Except, of course, the guys you have with you. And they obviously cannot feed Mr. Bungle as they are in Europe."

"So everyone's pets are alive?"

"Last time I checked they were. How are you guys anyway?"

"Everyone's drunk except me and Val, of course, because she only ever gets drunk when you're around…." he trailed off, getting quieter and quieter as he spoke.

"Jimmy? Sweetie, you there?"

"Uh, yeah. I am doing this as his best friend and your almost brother; Brian is giving Zacky a lap dance and it looks like Zack is enjoying it." "Always knew there was something going on between those two." I sighed. "How much have they had to drink anyway?"

"Um… that looks like I don't know how many bottles covering the floor. Though it's possible that they're not all theirs. Matt and Johnny have been drinking today as well. Leana and Val tried to tidy up for a while when they first started letting the bottles drop but they gave up a while ago."

"I think you should get them to stop round about now."

"Sounds like a good idea. But they'll pass out eventually. Gotta go, Dess. Have a good flight and we'll see you when you get here." "See ya." He ended the phone call and I immediately felt alone. I was well aware of the fact that I was alone, but this was different. It was like everyone I knew was slowly falling off the ends of the earth and leaving me behind without an explanation.

I shook that notion from my head and told myself to stop being so paranoid. It worked. Sort of.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I write in a uniquely craptastic way and I love it.

So this is how the first part came about; I was bored and ditching English for the much more exciting prospect of taking over the music department again. I ended up writing instead of fixing the hi-hat I broke.

Anyway. I got bored again and decided to do something I have never done before and actually continued a story. Though there isn't really much else to do while you're ill and at home alone.

I just realized how much I'm rambling and think I should stop before you decide to hunt me down and shoot me.

-Synical. xo.