Oh, God. Why? Why am I here? Why is this happening? Ronnie. Fuck. I can't see Ronnie. All I saw was Naomi, covered in blood, tearing down the hallway towards the elevator. I heard the shouting; now I hear the sirens.Shannon. They found Shannon. And underneath it all, buried in the commotion and the screaming, is the sound of a crying infant. Phoebe.I slump back against the wall and fall to the floor, coughing hard as the ice slithers into my veins, numbing me from the pain, from the tragedy. I yank the syringe out hard, not caring how much it hurts, and I toss it against the wall where it bounces back and hits me in the face.More sobbing.Fat tears slither down my cheeks and drip onto my breasts, sliding down my chest and reminding me how good it felt to be with Ronnie tonight. It was exciting. Not just the sex, but seeing him play. It made me realize how much I really do love the music. Somehow that bit of the equation, the part of it all that really matters, why we're all even fucking here, has been forgotten.
What do You think about Tough Luck (Hard Rock Roots)?
