Before I ForgetA Story by Koda Demitri Tucker-Elric
The clock on the wall reads 2:13 in the morning.
Most sane people would be in bed by now.
But not Sonny. He couldn't sleep on a night like this.
A cigarette in his mouth and cheap hotel slippers on his feet, he stood on the balcony outlooking the Los Angeles area and took a deep long drag.
Stress whirled inside him like a hurricane, and there was no eye in sight. His fingers hurt from the constant click-and-configuring he'd been doing on his laptop all day. With 2 missed calls from Joel and constant texts from Ellie, today wasn't the best of days.
He sometimes asked himself "Why? What in the world made you want to do this?" And then he remembers. That surgery. It had changed everything. Vocal problems, pollups on the chords, and then there was that surgery. Recovery was a pain, he didn't even want to breathe let alone sing. But then there was Matt. Ah, yes, good ol' Matt, who forced him to sing. "We need you, Sonny! Don't let this beat ya!" Like a fool, he listened. Kept singing, kept pleasing the crowds and managers. Then it hurt too much, and he would sit there on his bunk and think "What to do now?".
He inhaled too much smoke and coughed, almost doubling over. Look at him, he was a mess. Leaving them didn't change anything, did it? He was still the same pathetic human being he was back then, only now he didn't sing much.
"I can't do it anymore, Matt. It hurts."
He remembered that day, when he told Matt he couldn't keep singing for him anymore. His throat burned when he spoke, let alone sang.
"S-Sonny...we need you! You can't duck out! Not when we're so popular--"
"Matt! I can't! I just can't!" he shouted, which caused him to grab his throat and wince.
He remembered Matt's face, how broken it was, how desperate it was to keep him with them. "Sonny, don't do this!" he pleaded, grabbing his sleeve. He remembered ripping it away from him and stepping back. "Stop it Matt! Don't make me shout...it hurts." His eyes got dewy as he spoke. "I love singing but...I need to recover."
"We can wait for you, Sonny. We'll cancel gigs and reschedule our tours. Sonny, don't go."
Sonny gripped onto the backpack sitting on his bed, the one holding all his clothes and a good chuck of money. He remembered bitting his bottom lip, running his tounge over his fresh "snake-bites", the ones he had gotten a few weeks before. This was a hard choice to make, especially for himself.
But he couldn't answer.
His throat hurt.
His cigarette was spent by the time he came back into reality.
It hung limply on his lip, sizzling like a flower left out in the sun. As he tore it from his mouth and slammed it under his slipper, he lifted his tired eyes to the sky. The moon sat low and quiet tonight, vaguely covered by passing clouds and an unidentified gray mist. Fog. Maybe. Like he cared.
Ahh tomorrow. Yes. Meeting Ray Manzarek for their song. What was it gonna be called again? Oh, right. "Breakin' A Sweat." Mmm. He wondered what they'd think of him. A cold blank stare, maybe? Just like the rest of them. He laughed to himself.
These people that called themselves "fans" made him laugh. Who were they really? A bunch of Youtube junkies who sat on their butts all day doing nothing but playing his songs over and over again, most likely playing Minecraft in a second tab.
He leaned over the balcony railing and looked down, watching car after car whiz by on the road, even this late. He felt himself wonder where they were going. What was so important that they had to be up this late? His eyes dropped. He should ask himself the same thing. Why was he awake?
Thats what woke him.
He had woken up to the familiar tone of his phone recieving a message at around 12. It was from Ellie. Big surprise. Always harping on him about something. She had texted him if he knew where her skin cream was. "Like I know. C'mon Ellie," he had texted back, and was awake ever since.
"I'm impressed with your work, Mr. Moore."
He remembered that day in the studio, a summer evening so hot his glasses were slipping off his face.
That day, he met Joel. Well, in person at least. He'd seen him plenty of times plastered on the TV or the hottest topic on all the music blogs. Now he was here, waiting patiently for Sonny to say something to him. A word. A kind one, perhaps.
"Thank you, Mr. Zimmerman. I appreciate it, man."
A firm handshake. Joel comments on his grip. A compliment, Sonny thinks.
"Lets cut to the chase. I think you rock, hardcore no drama, right? Hows about you come work with me at Mau5trap Records? Make a name for yourself."
"I already have," Sonny replies, "I was with From First to Last."
"I know it." Joel pulls out a pack of camels. "Smoke?"
Sonny takes a cigarette and lights up with him. Strange.
"You've got some talent." Joel takes a drag. "We need you, man. Mau5trap is looking for some new blood. You'd fit right in."
Sonny is quiet.
"So...what do you call yourself anyways? I've heard a couple of things."
"Twipz," Sonny answers firmly as he puffs a cloud of smoke into his mike.
"Twipz? Whats that supposed to be, Twizzlers on cocaine?" Joel disapproves. Sonny cant tell if he's joking or not. "Try something else."
Sonny waits for a moment, lowering his smoke. He sits for a second. Quietly. Patiently.
"My name is Skrillex."
"Skrillex?" Joel laughs. "It'll have to work. It's better than Twipz."
Well now what?
Sonny paced back and forth on the balcony, stopping only once to go to the bathroom and then returned to this pattern. He's sweating, even through his thick bedtime robe. The world is so fast, so dizzying, he starts forgetting things. Important things. Things that make him who he's supposed to be.
Ahh, yes. The Doors. They were tomorrow. Legends. Icons. "Breakin' A Sweat". Right.
His phone vibrates in his pocket. He's sure it's another text from Ellie. What could she possibly want at this hour, anyway? He checks. It is from her.
"Love u babe <333"
He doesn't want to respond right now.
Leaning over the balcony again, his thoughts travel again. Floating. Like a ghost.
His concerts were always insane. His fingers flew over the knobs, and he got into it. It was a high better than the drugs he was so very much exposed to.
Hard bass drops.
People, reaching for him.
Shadows, longing for his touch.
He always ran to them. Jumped right off the stage and into their arms. It was here he felt safe. Loved. Here, people screamed his name and wanted his attention. Wanted his love in return. He couldn't give it to them all, so he'd drown himself in the music again. It was a vicious cycle. Mad world.
His phone vibrates again.
Another text from Ellie.
He doesn't even look at it, simply screams and throws it away. Off the side of the balcony. "Shut up! Just shut up!"
Into the LA streets.
And just like that, it was gone. Destroyed. Not a single trace of it's existence remained. All of the proof gone. Within an instant.
He froze, looking down, adjusting his glasses once. Twice. Was that...could that...
He turned back and walked into his room, exactly as he left it. The bed was a mess, and the clock now read 3:20. Had he already been up this long?
He sat on the edge of his bed and began to think. Everything was just...gone. Like that. All he had to do was let it go, and everything would be better.
Sonny stood now, and grabbed his headphones, still plugged into his laptop from the days work. He slipped them around his neck and lit up one more time. The nicotine ran through him like wildfire, the way he brought it in so fiercely. He didn't even bother to snuff it out, just threw the live butt onto the floor and let it burn the edges of the carpet.
He rushed back to the balcony and looked down. The fall looked peaceful. Almost tempting. He wondered if he'd start flying. Grow wings, just like the angels in that pressured bible his mother always had on her.
He wanted to fly.
He took the headphones and slipped them delicately over his ears, even though they weren't plugged into anything.
Even now, as he climbed on the balcony rim and stood, looking down at his certain death, he could only think about the past.
"They loved you, Sonny! They really loved you! Aren't you glad you didn't keep 'Twipz'? Skrillex is MUCH easier to chant when asking for an encore!"
His long black hair danced in the breeze, and the sounds of passing cars became louder. His final song. Only he'd be the thing that dropped. Being the drop itself.
"I can't believe it...you're really leaving us! Sonny! How could you!? I thought I was your best friend!"
A promise. Thats what all this really was. A promise. A challange. Those cars, those people. They were all mocking him. They didn't think he'd do it. He was too scared, they all thought. Well, watch me. Watch me fly, just like an angel. He made a "T" with his arms and took in a deep breath.
"Why dont u text me more? Do I annoy u? I luv u tho <33. Come home soon!"
Even as he was falling, it all felt so unreal.
This is what he was missing. This is what he was looking for. That sensation of looking down and knowing that those loving arms were waiting for you to jump into them. Those arms who loved you as much as you loved them. Soon he could mingle amoung them forever, always afloat. Always in concert. Always in his prime.
His headphones flew off his ears and up, sure to fall somewhere else.
This didn't scare him. He'd fly soon.
He closed his eyes.
And he flew.
"This doesnt make any sense...foul play! FOUL PLAY!"
"Mr. Zimmerman!" a policeman cries.
The scene is blocked off with the kind of tape you'd see on CSI Miami: "Police Line Do Not Cross". The mangled body of Sonny Moore now rests on the caved roof of a semi truck. His glasses are broken, and there's dried crusted blood coming from his nose and mouth. His eyes are closed, making a somewhat peaceful expression.
Joel and Ellie are the first ones there. Joel is pushing police officers out of the way, and they keep trying to hold him back.
"Thats my best friend! Let me see him!"
"Mr. Zimmerman, this is a crime scene. We cannot permit--"
"Sonny!" he cries, "Sonny! Wake up! Don't do this!!"
Ellie is sobbing like a widow. Her eyes are spilling with tears.
Skrillex fans soon start appearing, some crying, some whispering in disgust. Some start throwing up. Others are taking pictures with their cell phones. The reactions are mixed.
Joel pushes a policeman away and darts under the tape, but is caught by another officer before he can get anywhere near him. "Sonny!!" he screams, starting to tear up. "You're just showing off, you troll! Wake up!"
As the medical staff show up and cover up the body, Ellie starts screaming. Joel screams with her.
Fans are screaming for him too. Some give Sonny the Hunger Games three finger goodbye. Joel tells them to stop it, and Ellie only cries harder.
But no one sees it.
No one sees him flying.
© 2012 Koda Demitri Tucker-Elric
Added on May 12, 2012
Last Updated on May 12, 2012
Koda Demitri Tucker-Elric
AboutWelcome, fellow writers, to my page! Please note that by stumbling upon me, you agree to not spew hate on my work, but helpful critisism. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, h.. more..
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