RockStar

Sound Consumption

The world's a blur of color and motion. Faces that mean nothing right now, words that won't be remembered. Emotions that can't be comprehended or put into words. Every waking moment is torture. New adornments of black, blue, and purple on already marred skin. Crimson paint on a gentle white canvas. Sensations of a poisoned mind. Whatever serenity she once had possession of is no longer hers. It all slips through ghost like fingers into an ocean of abyss. No more lights of joy, only demons and their shadows. They dance to a sound that's all their own. Not music, but a cacophony of muffled and mangled strangulation that only they enjoy. A dance of sharpened knives. She feels the pressure of a cataclysmic downfall. Eyes sown with pain and lips stained with life's most poisoned words. She shakes as his fingers wrap roughly around her throat and the claws of her other assailant dig into her spindly arms. The pressure of a body that isn't hers pressed against her own. Her struggle is wasted and her energy is drained like blood from fresh meat.

Tendrils of hot alcoholic air caress her face as he forces himself to fill inside of her. Forcing her legs to remain open. Pathetic. Weak. A waste of perfectly good s pace and air. Shadows scream at her from the darkest parts of her mind. It's her voice that shreds the air into tiny pieces. Another blow to her temple reduces the sound to whimpers. Closing her eyes does nothing to alleviate the actual reality of what's being done to her by her own flesh and blood, the one person she's supposed to look up to and has until now. A gentle river pools from her eyes.

Eijinn gently shakes the girl once more, and moves back so as to not startle or frighten her. From what he can tell her night terrors are getting worse. He doesn't know what causes them, but he knows that waking up every night half sober from her screaming isn't helping anyone. His eyes match hers, copper orbs filled with irritation and sleep.

"Sorry..."

"Yeah, that isn't making up for the fact that you woke the whole house. Either learn to scream quietly or don't scream at all."

She doesn't say anything. He isn't the most comforting of people to be around. She doesn't exactly like him, considering the way he treats her, and the amount of alcohol he consumes. Still he wakes her when she's terrified, whether it's because she's annoying or because he actually cares she'll never know. The bedroom door opens and instead of Aaron or Bryant as expected, it's Mitchell. A frown is tossed in Eijinn's direction. With an agitated groan the red head gets up from the bed and leaves the room. Mitchell closes the door before turning his full attention to her. Like some of the others he's not too happy about being woken up in the middle of the night. However, he's more concerned with what has her screaming in the first place. Light colored eyes stare back at even lighter ones. He doesn't say anything but watches her. Watches her like his life depends on it. The two are silent as he waits for her to calm her breathing. Finally he goes and sits beside her.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Where's Aaron?"

Mitchell laughs hesitantly, face flushing a deep shade of pink. She may be the only person in the house who doesn't know about Aaron's sexuality. And he's not exactly sure how to explain it to her. She frowns when he doesn't answer her.

"It's complicated."

"What's complicated? You guys say that a lot ."

"Yeah, Mitchie, what's complicated?"

Both Mitchell and Marie look up at the door to see a sweaty Aaron standing in the doorway. His dark tresses are matted down and the ink on his tanned skin shines in the dim light coming from the hall. Just behind him is Bryant in the same fashion.

"Nothing, I thought you were sleeping. Marie asked for you."
Almost instantly Aaron laughs. Mitchell's face darkens in embarrassment and Marie looks clueless. Bryant in the other hand isn't sure who he should feel bad for.

"Aaron, be nice. I'm sure he didn't mean any harm. Did you tell her, Mitchell?"

"No, it's rather awkward to explain your situation. Besides she's like twelve."

"I AM NOT TWELVE I'M SEVENTEEN!"

All three males look flustered. Aaron's laughter ceased and his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"You're seventeen?"

"Yes!"

"Mitch, get out."

"Aaron, she's fine. Go do whatever you were doing."

"I'm sorry. I don't think you heard me. Let me rephrase that. GET THE FUCK OUT NOW!"

Mitchell flinches, but quickly exits the room. Scurrying past Aaron as fast as he can. Bryant steps into the room after Aaron, closing and locking the door in the process. Both males eyes have darkened considerably.

"Marie, do you remember what you told us?"

"How can I forget?"

"Good, now I have another question for you and you are to withhold nothing."

"Be thankful it's Bryant asking the questions and not me."

"Now, how long has this shit with your brother been going on?"

"Since our parents died."

"When was this?"

"Two years ago..."

At this Aaron jumps to his feet and begins to pace. His nerves are unsettled and his skin is turning red. The beautiful black ink that decorates his arms, back, and the rest of his torso look more intimidating. There's a tension in the air that not even a knife can cut. From where her and Bryant are sat on the bed she can see the way his muscles have tightened and his veins stand out. They can only watch as he paces. When Marie goes to call out for him Bryant stops her with a shake of his head.

"You don't stick your hand into the open maw of a lion. Wait for him to calm down enough."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I know him better than anyone here."

Aaron looks over at the pair green eyes surging with angry electricity. He stops to watch them for a moment his mood slowly calming. This is something new for him. Most run at the sight of him when he's angry. Bryant was the first to stick beside him. And now even she's stayed. Although he can't fathom why, she clearly trusts him.

"Are you calm now?"

"Yeah, I'm good now. Marie, I'm sorry you had to see me like that."

"It's fine. I've seen worse. Besides you actually called me Marie instead of Anya."

"Well damn, can't have that can we?"

The trio laugh and Aaron settles onto the bed with them wrapping an arm around each of them.

"So what was Mitchell talking about? Before you drove him out of the room?"

"Are you sure you want the answer to that?"

She nods as both males glance at each other before responding:

"I'm bisexual and sometimes Bryant and I elope."

"You couldn't just say that we have sex. Hell you could've even said we were fucking, jeeze eloping though. You make it sound like we're married."

Aaron raises an eyebrow at Bryant and Marie stifles another laugh. He's glad that this has put her in a good mood. Her nightmares tend to be darker than he imagines them to be. Including tonight's. It's no doubt that it's as bad as the other dreams and so he decides that just this once he won't ask what she dreamt about. Instead he decides to do something else something he hasn't done since meeting Bryant.

"I think we should talk. This isn't something I've done before except once and that was with Bryant. That's not saying I don't trust anyone, it's just that not very many people want to be around me because of my temper. I'm not a mean or cruel person I just feel very strongly about things. The others don't even know about this and I'm only telling you because you trust me and haven't run from me yet."

The room is silent as they wait for Aaron to continue. However, he's terrified now that what he's going to say may just ruin everything. He wants to be friends with her, but the things he's done in the past may not allow that. He sighs and adjust his seating position so that he's facing Marie.

"I'm the second oldest of three boys. Born in a suburban area where being anything but straight is frowned upon. My mother raised me to believe that my sexual preference was a crime. At least she tried to. So you can imagine that growing up I was bullied a lot. I'm talking beatings that nearly killed me. You'd think at least my patents or my older brother, Samuel, would defend me. They didn't. By the time I was twelve I'd been in enough fights and put enough kids in the hospital to not only be suspended from school, but to also have a criminal record. That's the same year all hell broke loose in my house. My own mother and father began to insult and abuse me. By then Simon is seven and he's pretty much been instilled with the idea that I was some type of demon parasite living in the house. So one day him and Sam gang up on me after our parents have already done the same."

He stops and takes a breath the air shaking and nearly burning his lungs.

"It got physical between Sam and I. Simon panicked and tried to stop me. I was so blinded by rage I tossed my baby brother against a wall. Sam on the other hand...I beat him until he was unconscious... Mom put me out and I spent a few years in and out of juvie. Somehow, I managed to get back into school. The fighting didn't end, but by the end of middle school, beginning of high school I meet Bryant and we've been friends since."

Bryant lowers his head, knowing even more to the story than what Aaron has mentioned. This doesn't mean he misses what Marie does, which shocks Aaron and himself to no end: she hugs him, her tiny arms settling around his neck. What surprises him more is the sound of muffled crying escaping his friends throat. Aaron's not once cried in front of anyone. Never in the time Bryant's known him. Gently Marie pulls away and Aaron removes himself from their presence.

"Will he be okay?"

"He'll find a way. Don't tell anyone he cried. They'd never let him live it down. And thank you, for not judging him."

He's happy the garage is empty when he gets there, although there's a good chance that Jason might be. It's been a long day for him. Especially considering he hasn't spoken of his family to anyone in a long time. He misses them, his family. More specifically his brothers.

Nimble fingers fine the drumsticks placed neatly on the work bench. Percussion has always been his thing and I'd not for Eijinn and the others he wouldn't have this release. So with steady steps in the dark he manages to find his drum set. His hands move freely drumming out a rhythm all their own. Nothing worries him one he's entranced, lost in the sound of the beat. The whole house can wake, but it makes no difference to him. This is high. His go to drug. The heavy sound of the bass drum courses through his veins and fills him entirely, because he's the only one in the house who can do what he does at its best.