Hanging out with the kids after the show was my second favorite part, aside from actually being on stage itself. They were all so different, but they all shared one thing: a similar taste in music, a similar need for music. I was especially happy when I saw fans, particularly girls, who seemed like me. Well, who seemed like how I used to be. The more shy ones, who clearly appreciate the music and have a passion for it, yet cannot express it due to a judging school or a constricted household. Or a new fan, who wanted to be more expressive, but was afraid of what their parents would think when their golden child, who dressed in pretty clothes and did her hair, all of a sudden wanted to “change her image”. But really she didn’t want to change her image at all; she wanted to be who she always has been, but never got the opportunity to be. I was lucky, because I was given the opportunity. I knew what it was like to have people judge me liking pop punk; I knew what it was like for my parents to think I was being rebellious when all I wanted was for them to understand.

So I paid special attention, watching for fans like that. Most of the time, they found me. They knew my story. They knew where I came from. And they knew that they could talk to me about anything that they needed, because I was there for them. I was a completely new, different dynamic to Pierce the Veil, but in a good way. The fan base broadened, and only good things could come from that.

Well, that’s what I thought, anyway.

Vic stood close by me most of the time; he knew I was nervous. It was my first meet and greet. “Just talk to them, they already love you, anyway,” he reassured me before it had begun.

“I don’t think you understand how much I look up to you,” a girl—probably 16 or 17 years old—came up to me. I smiled. “I drew this for you,” she handed me a piece of paper. Her hands were shaking nervously. It hadn’t occurred to me that they would be the nervous ones. I smiled warmly.

“This is beautiful,” I commented on the picture she drew of the band. It was very accurate. Jaime making a goofy face on the left, Tony smiling, standing next to Jaime, Vic stretching his arms and legs out in a star fish or jumping jack shape, Mike glaring sarcastically at his brother, and me laughing on the right. It was truly amazing. Everything fit together. None of us was emphasized more than the other, we were all equal. We were a family. “This is amazing! Thank you so much,” I say, blinking back a tear. “What is your name?”

“Jessica,” she said quietly. “I look up to you because despite peer and parental pressure, you decided to be who you are. Even though it took a while, you were able to overcome it, and that’s what I’m trying to do,” she said quickly.

“I know it’s hard, but at a certain point you just have to accept the fact that you aren’t changing, so fuck whoever tells you that you can’t be who you are,” I responded. Jess’s smile broadened in delight at my ‘I don’t give a shit about what others think anymore’ attitude.

“Will you sign this for me?” she asked, holding out her concert ticket, and I signed it. “Thanks,” she said, and then we took a picture. She waved goodbye and moved on to Jaime and Tony.

“Congrats, your first big fan,” Vic mumbled in my ear. I didn’t need to turn around because he knew I was smiling.

“I was afraid that Pierce the Veil would completely change its sound because of you,” a boy with spiky hair and grungy clothes said to me, who was next in line. “But you guys remain awesome, plus you’re hot,” he continued. I couldn’t help but blush.

“Well, thank you!” I responded.

“Will you sign my nipple?” I laughed as the boy removed his t shirt.

“If your heart desires,” I rolled my eyes.

“Right here,” the boy thumps his chest with his hand, and I sign my name messily onto his skin. I didn’t mention or even alter my facial expression when I noticed the scars on his chest, similar to those on my arm. “Thanks, babe,” he said confidentially, and I barely had time to react when he planted a kiss on my lips. He was gone before any one could retaliate—Jaime, Tony, Mike, and Vic were very protective. But I didn’t care, I thought it was funny. And his scars broke my heart, I wish I had said something.

Vic remained five feet away from me, talking and taking pictures with fans. Jaime and Tony and Mike were mixed in the crowd. It was chaos, but most fans were respectful once they got our picture and autograph and talked to us.

I was surprised over the amount of fans that cried when they met us, especially over Vic. The guys represented something unique to older fans. They were their original savior, and it saddened me to think about all of the fans who’s lives would not exist if it weren’t for the four boys I like to play music and hang out with. I squeezed the drawing of the five of us in my pocket.

After a while of meeting and greeting fans, the crowd was beginning to die down, and we were getting ready to wrap things up. I was about to go over to the merch area, until I felt a tremendous, splitting pain on the back of my head, and I was confused when I found myself on the pavement.

I heard the commotion of angry yells and frightened screams and scuffling feet, but then everything was silent and there was something cold on the back of my neck. “Nobody move, or I shoot,” a voice said.

Oh. A gun. Why was somebody threatening my life with a gun?

My attacker kicked me in the side so I rolled over onto my back. I groaned, and I heard people yell again.
“Quiet!” the voice said.

I knew it was a man because of his deep and scruffled voice.

The man gripped my hair and jerked me so I was painfully sitting up. I unsuccessfully tried not to squeal, and I held both of my hands on my hair, trying to relieve the painful tension.

There were no more fans nearby; they had all ran off in fear. My family stood ten feet away from me, all in tense stances, and security guards stood close as well. Everyone was afraid to move, because if they did my brains would be splattered on the rustic brick wall behind me.

“What do you want?” Vic’s voice was angry, but shaky, as he called out to the man. He didn’t look at the man as he spoke though. His eyes were locked with mine.

“I really like this girl,” the man said. My stomach dropped. I knew that voice.

“Then why are you holding a gun to her head?” Jaime snarled.

“I need some leverage,” he replied.

“Leverage? Leverage for what? What do you want?” Vic repeated. I noticed him slowly walk forward towards me, but the man’s grip on my hair tightened, and I whined. I could feel the blood dripping from the back of my head from the gash I acquired when I was struck in the head. My vision began to blur.

The man yanked me up aggressively so I was standing. He was much taller than me, probably six feet. Oh, I knew this guy. But I was having problems remembering… The gun remained on my temple. He started to walk backwards, and I had no choice but to go with him. He smelled like cigarettes and whiskey. What a familiar smell.

“I want her, but I figured I would fail unless I threatened her life,” he said. Oh, God. Not him. My ex-boyfriend of four years, Jake… He found me… His grip on my hair loosened… maybe I could dart away.

Before I could plot my escape, though, his grimy and dirty hands were holding my chin. He was trying to move my head, but I resisted. “Agh! I didn’t think you’d be such a bitch!” he snarled, slapping me across the face. It burned, and his grip on me tightened, and he began to drag me away. I tried to scream and punch him, but he was too strong and violent.

“Hey! No!” Tony yelled angrily, and he made the fateful decision to bolt towards me. The bullet hit him in the shoulder, I think, and he collapsed to the ground mid stride. No! No!

“Tony!” I cried. Jake had relaxed his grip on me in order to impulsively shoot Tony, so I was able to jump forward to the lump that was Tony; it was an instinct. Before I made it to him, though, I found myself on the ground, again, with a warm and painful feeling in my back and the sound of another gunshot lingering in the air. I heard yet a third gunshot, but I knew it was the security guards reacting to the attack. Surely Jake was dead. I was dead.

Someone rolled me over. It didn’t even hurt. Someone was holding me in their arms. Caressing my broken head, holding my abdomen where the bullet went through. “Oh God, you’re going to be okay, okay?” Vic said frantically, brushing the hair from across my face. I was having trouble breathing, concentrating, breathing. I felt like I haven’t blinked in a lifetime. I stared at Vic with glassy eyes.

“Tony,” I managed to say. There was something warm and metallic in my mouth. Blood. “Help, Tony,” I said again.

“Tony’s okay, sweetheart, he’s fine,” Vic reassured, petting my face.

“Help him,” my dying self choked out, I knew it, I knew I had to be dying, because I knew what it felt like to almost die. Damn it, I knew what it felt like to almost die at the hands of someone you used to love.

“No, damn it, you are okay! Don't do this! Don’t give up!” he shook me gently, but I could feel my eyes grow heavier and heavier. I felt his head nestle into my neck.

The back of my eyelids never looked so sad.

Notes

Muahah Chapter 5, everyone!
Wow, i've updated a lot today... more to come tomorrow :)