The move from the storage unit was difficult, especially following the loss of Papa Fuentes. His death effected the whole camp, everyone came to the realization that any of us could be next. How many more breathes would we get? Which one of our loved ones or friends will fall victim to this plague that has infected the world? Every time I look at my mother, sisters, or Erin it hurt, looking at them hurt. What if I would lose them? I wanted a better life for all of them for all of us. We all deserved a normal life of happiness, and a long time to spend doing what we loved. I would never get to get married or have children of my own, because I wouldn’t dream of bringing a life into this hell. Everything was wrong. We were supposed to play music for the rest of our lives, to play for our amazing fans, not running for our lives.


I didn’t want to run anymore. The thoughts were eating me alive. Some days I wish I would get bitten, so it would end. So I wouldn’t have to wake up in a world where everything was broken. My thoughts got darker every day, drowning in thoughts of the comfort of death. It would be easier that way right? I would be one less person to feed and protect. If I took my life I would be doing it on my own terms. Tears brimmed my eyes till I couldn’t see, and the hot liquid caressed my checks. Sitting in the dark made it worse, everyone was off sleeping, but I was awake because my dreams were filled with death.


My hand gripped onto the cold metal of my pistol and I tried to think of happier times. I thought of the first time we played a show for a crowd that we actually had people singing our lyrics. It was an amazing feeling that made my heart quicken. In that moment I knew our music was going to go somewhere. I watched as the crowd moved and jumped around screaming the lyrics Vic sang. After the show was even better fans came up to us asking for pictures and autographs it was overwhelming, and amazing. One girl came up to me crying, her whole body shaking, she could barely speak. But when she finally could she confessed how much our music means to her. She told us we saved her with our music. It was a feeling I would never forget even after thousands of fans said the words. Pierce the Veil saved them.

That was something I lived for helping our fans, but who would save me now? I needed to be saved but did I want to be saved? I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t stop crying as I thought about how much easier it would be to give up, to let go. I wish I could stop crying. I mentally screamed at myself to stop crying. I raked a shaking hand through my over grown brown hair. I tried to keep breathing, but my breathe was staged and short. I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t live this life of running. This life with no future. No hope. They would all understand. We would all die eventually some sooner than others. I slid the cold barrel in my mouth with trembling hands. My index finger hovered over the trigger, barely touching it. As I closed my eyes about to pull the trigger, I felt a hand on my shoulder making me stop. Another hand pulled the gun from my mouth and I fell to the floor sobbing in the arms of my savior, Mike. I was so weak.

I can't write about this anymore.
Tony

Notes