How Not To Be A Groupie

Chapter Fifty Two: Alone

How did Angus manage to do this so easily? That man had a ridiculous talent for art and he made it look so easy. In their movie Let There Be Rock, he drew that cartoon so well and I didn't seem him use an eraser once. In my case, I had a flower that could have used some touching up with its rather uneven petals. The chalk stained my hands with a pale yellow powder and it got harder to draw the shorter it got. Once in a while I'd look up to make sure no cops had decided to take their break in my alley. They'd chase me away for sure. By now the rain was wiping away the previous drawings. The word 'Fuck' had turned into 'luck'. The gum threatened to fall off and land on my shoe. Deciding no amount of trying could save my flower, I gave up and tossed the remaining chalk under the dumpster. Using the rain to wash my hands, I stood up, soaked through to the bone, and started for the hotel. 

A rat ran in front of me and I clutched my chest, taking a breath. "Shit," I muttered. The rat's fur glistened as it ran for cover. With no watch and no sun I had no clue what time it was. I wasn't even sure if the band was playing a show tonight. It didn't matter. I wouldn't be attending anyway. I needed to figure out what to do and where to go from here. 

Spending half my evening just finding the hotel again I wrung my hair out before opening the door where Here Come Santa Claus filled the lobby. Wiping my shoes on the rug, I stuck my hands in my pockets and kept my eyes glued to the floor as I hurried to the stairs. More people were likely to see the mess I had become if I had taken the elevator. With the music growing fainter the farther I went, it finally ceased when I reached my floor. I was met with silence on the empty floor. A lone whistling broke it, echoing through the stairwell. I hurried to my room.

A haunting, hollow hotel room. Darkened by the overcast sky and terribly lonely. My clothes and belongings lay next to the couch like always. It got worse when I reached the bathroom. Just like this morning, it was vacated. I stripped off my wet clothes and tossed them in a pile on the floor, starting up a hot shower. 

Raising a hand to the bedroom door, I stopped myself. There was no need to knock. Pushing it open, I expected to see a messy bed with the sheets all twisted and clothes on the floor. Instead the room was immaculate. The bed looked like it hadn't been slept in for weeks and any sign of a guest had been removed. Stelle sure knew how to clean up. 

The closet door was open just a few inches. I crept toward it and pulled it aside. Bare hangers and a small hoover vacuum were the only things in there. That, and my notebook on the floor. Picking it up swiftly, a flyer fell out and floated to the floor. I ignored it and took the notebook to the bed, sitting cross legged and flipping it open. The backstage pass, a newspaper, and all my writings were still there. Stelle hadn't touched it. I wonder what she thought when she saw it in there as she packed her things. Maybe she wished she had never met me. Some part of me deep inside still blamed myself for Stelle's mother getting in the accident. What other incidents had I unintentionally caused? What else had happened as a response to me going back in time?

I flipped through my conversations with the band. The interviews I conducted to make them believe I was really a music journalist. The trick I played on them so they'd keep me around. It was all a lie. 

Why was I here? I thought I had been sent here to have fun since a mission of some kind made no sense. But I wasn't having very much fun now. 

Whatever sent me back in time had sent the wrong person. 

Tears splattered onto the pages, darkening the words. I wiped my eyes, hoping my crying wouldn't ruin my work. I still worked hard on this notebook, even if some of it was done in bad taste. 

Once in a while I'd see a name. I saw Angus' name a few times. Once I called him cute and I sniffed. Maybe he read that part. At this point, I didn't care. Phil's name came up a good amount. Worrying about his future with drugs and how I could do nothing to stop it. Same with Bon and Malcolm. 

So if I wasn't having fun anymore and there was no one I could help, what was the point? 

I wanted to go home. I wanted to see my family again. Even if I didn't get along the best with them I didn't want to leave them forever. I wouldn't exist in my time if I didn't go back. I'd remain here as a memory, fading away with everything else. I wouldn't ever get to tell my family that I still loved them, despite all my bad memories with them. 

I wouldn't ever-

My heart ached. I grabbed my chest and covered my mouth, tears spilling down my face onto my hand. I remembered.

I wouldn't ever get to apologize to my friend back home. 

Writing my fanfictions had been my way of coping with our fight. I had said some things I shouldn't have and really hurt her. We decided it was best for both of us to have a break. And during that break I had distracted myself with my stories and my music. It was high time I apologized to her but now I couldn't. For all I knew, I was trapped here.

Lying down on the crisp covers of the bed, I cried into my pillow, my shoulders quivering. Kicking the notebook away from me, hearing it fall to the floor, I curled into a ball and wept. 

Stelle's mother was in the hospital in critical condition. It might not have happened if I hadn't been here. Stelle left in a hurry without saying goodbye and I was sure I'd never see her again. Now I was sure I'd never see my family and best friend ever again. I spent a good part of my stay here lying to the band about who I was and now they were surely upset with me too. Thinking over everything I had told them and realizing I was full of shit. Hoping the tour would start soon so they could fly away and leave me here. Despite the logical side of my brain telling me none of this was true, I didn't believe it. I refused to hurt myself even more by believing in what I thought to be a false hope. 

None of them could be as upset with me as I was. None of them hated me more than I did. 

Sometime during my cry I fell asleep, the rain taking over.