Chapter 6

"Margarita's are an open door to a world with no pain"

(Hole—Kelly Clarkson)

FOUR YEARS LATER

(Bill POV)

"Hello? Bill? Are you still there?" Tom waved a hand in front of my face. I blinked, and looked up at him. I looked at him with lifeless eyes, as he calls them. Tom has talked to me a lot lately. Saying how I was depressed and how I acted like nothing mattered to me anymore. It was true, though. Ever since Maggie left, nothing seemed to have the importance it used to anymore. It was as if my body was living, but I was still dead. Nothing could bring me bring me back to life. Nothing. Well, one thing. One person. But it wasn't possible. Never. Although, I knew that Tom wasn't going to shut up until I answered.

"What, Tom?" I asked, sounding tired; lifeless. Today, I was more depressed than normal. Today was exactly four years since Maggie had quit.

"Bill, we're going on stage in twenty minutes. Are you ready?" he asked, picking up his guitar. Gustav was ready to go on stage. Another concert. This is where I have to pretend to be all happy, for the fans. I nodded, and we walked out onto the stage, and the music began.

(Maggie POV)

I looked up from my book to take a peek at the clock. 8:54 pm. I placed my book on my end table and turned my TV on. Prison Break was starting at nine. I had a few minutes to channel surf before it started. I decided to watch the last few minutes of an interview on MTV. I froze when I saw them on the screen. I hadn't forgotten about Bill, but I had managed to keep busy enough to keep him out of my thoughts.

Now as I saw him on the TV screen, my eyes watered as the memories came back, filling my mind with playbacks. Bill looked miserable; like he hadn't slept in…four years. No. That was conceited to think that he would lose sleep over me, but that's what it looked like, it really did. The interviewer welcomed back the audience, and turned once again towards the band.

"So, Bill. Fans have noticed a change in your attitude towards everything from four years ago, where you were so different. How can you explain?" Bill looked up at him with uncaring, lifeless eyes. He didn't say anything. He looked like he wasn't looking at the interview, but looking back over something in his mind.

"Say something, Bill," I said quietly, staring at the TV. "Come on. Say something." I continue to watch. Tom looked over at Bill, noticing that Bill wasn't going to say anything anytime soon. Tom spoke up for Bill.

"He's been like this for a while," Tom said, genuine concern in his voice, "ever since this girl disappeared." I sat up, listening intently.

"Girl?" the interviewer questioned, "Her name?" This time, Bill spoke, surprising everybody.

"Maggie," he spoke, still looking in a trance," Maggie Clearwater."

** COMERCIAL**

Listen up People!

I am (as some of you may know) a GREAT Miyavi fan and I am

Writing a story…this is for you
and to pass on to all your Miyavi fan friends...
that i am holding a contest
for all those who want their name to be the one i use

send in a

essay/video/paragraph

as to why you want your name to be the one used..
And show how much you love Miyavi
enough to have your name be the one used...

tell everyone you know!

The deadline is

June 1st, 2009

Rules:

uhmm...
just make sure it's appropriate...
you can only enter once!
No copyright of music please in your videos!

Other than that...
i can't think of anything.

So spread the word...

June 1st 2009

deadline.

Winner will be announced....

June 10th, 2009

send your entries via email.

Look for my email on my page...

uhmm...

if it's not there...
its hotmail.

sahara-rose-gone-dead

Emails will be sent out to tell you if you have won or not

=D

Good Luck!

** END COMERCIAL**

My heart must have skipped a beat as I heard him say my name. I was the reason he was miserable. The interviewer talked about how Tokio Hotel was in New York for two weeks.

After that, I didn't hear anything. I was to busy packing my duffle bag. I put in random clothes, not even paying attention to what I was throwing in my bag. I added my toothbrush, hairbrush, and a few scrunchies.

I snatched up my black and blue converse sweater, and ran out the front door, leaving a note for my mom, explaining how I was going to New York and why.

I caught the lat bus to New York; I still couldn't stand planes.

(Bill's POV)

"What the hell was that about?" Tom yelled at me. We were back at the hotel. He was yelling at me about how I spaced out during the interview. I just shrugged. I didn't want to talk about it.

"Really, Bill, you have to stop this. She's just a girl!" Tom exclaimed. He was going to wish he never said that.

"Don't you EVER say that!" I screamed, standing up, "She is NOT just a girl. She's, well, she's---," I couldn't think anymore. I had to get out of here. I ran out of the room, and left the hotel via emergency exit.

I was over four blocks away before I realized that I wasn't in any sort of disguise.

"Crap."

(Maggie's POV)

I was in New York, and had jut checked into the hotel. I had bought a ticket to their concert tonight, and was planning on approaching him afterwards. I wore my dark skinny jeans, red and black leggings with a black ribbon, and a white lace shirt with a black shirt over top buttoned up so only the lace part of the white shirt showing. I put on a black choker and fixed my makeup. When I finished, I checked my phone for the time. Time to go. I grabbed my wallet, which held the ticket and my money in it, and hurried out the door.

The concert was packed full of screaming girls, and a few guys that looked as if they were dragged here unwillingly by their girlfriends. I laughed inwardly at them.

I found my seat. I made sure that I was up in the balcony, not on the floor, as to prevent him from seeing me before I saw him.

(Bill POV)

I could here the fans screaming, most of them girls. I sighed. I suppose they wanted us to return to the stage, and sing another song. I really wasn't up for that, and the guys knew it.

Instead, we waited for the fans with the backstage passes.

(Maggie POV)

The concert was amazing. During the time, I was almost oblivious to why I was actually there. Not that I forgot. Bill's uncaring voice was enough of a reminder. Despite that, I actually enjoyed myself. That is, until I found myself waiting at the doors of the stage. I felt fear and unease bubbling in my stomach. I fiddled with my pass, and bit my lip. Finally, the doors opened. A couple bodyguards came out, followed by the guys. The girls around me started screaming. I moved towards the back of the group, starting to rethink my plan. Bill wouldn't remember me anyways. Last time he saw me, I had short blonde hair. Now my hair was long and black. Personally, I thought I looked better with black hair; me friends agreed.

I watched Bill lifelessly greet the other fans. I could really see a difference in him. Normally, he was this smiling, bouncy person. He was always happy. Now, it looked as if he hadn't smiled in forever. He eyes were no longer the bright, deep chocolate brown they used to be, and were now a dull grey. I couldn't stand this. I had to leave.

I turned around, and walked away. I could hear Bill in the background.

"Wait a minute, is that--?" he voice held a different note. A note of hope. I knew he saw me. Crap. "Hey, wait up!" I heard him run after me. Dammit. I started running. I ran around the corner, and out the door. I shot past the other people; still hearing Bill racing after me. I took a quick turn into an alley. Finally, I lost him.

"What the hell was I thinking?" I yelled at myself. This was too much for me. I couldn't stand this. Seeing him like this…and it was all because of ME. I felt terrible.

I walked through a dark park, holding the bottle of whiskey I had bought. I sat down on the bench, and opened the bottle, and began to drink.

(Bill POV)

(The Ripper—the Used)

She was there. I'm sure of it. She had changed, no doubt. Her hair color had thrown me off at first, but it was her. Now, she was gone. I was so close. She was so near. And now she's gone. Vanished. For good.

I was walking in a dark park. David would have never allowed this. Too dangerous. It only felt appropriate with how I felt right now.

As I was walking down the path, I saw somebody sitting on a bench…with long, dark hair, and a bottle in her hand. I recognized her immediately.

I ran over to her. She looked up as I called her name. She looked surprised, and dropped the bottle. The bottle was pretty much empty, and barely got the path wet.

"Maggie?" I whispered, slowly walking closer to her.

"S-Stay back…I can't do this…St-tay back…I can't see you…I can't deal with this…it was a bad idea…" her voice was slurred from the full bottle of whiskey she had consumed. This made me worried. She could get hurt in this part of the city.

"Maggie…come here." I took another step towards her. She took an automatic step backwards, and tripped.

"Crap," she said, lying on the ground. I ran over to her, and helped her sit up. "No…put me down!" she protested, lightly hitting her fists against my chest. She was so weak, it didn't even hurt. I ignored her, and picked her up. I tried asking her where she was staying, but had already fainted.

Since I didn't know where she was staying, I had no other choice but to bright her back to my hotel.

I laid her on my bed, and sat beside her. All night I watched her sleep, never sleeping myself. That was alright, though. I had my Maggie back.

This is NOT the end, even though it sounds like it… Soooooo…reply reply reply…