battlescars
I looked over at the guitar sitting silently on its stand. The white fender was hammered, scared deeply from being thrown around at shows and jostled from vans to stages all over the place. In my mind I sympathized with my insterment. We had been through a lot together. Suddenly I remembered that song by Ozma, Battlescars.
There's battlescars on all my guitars but I still come out here and play.
Yeah, those words always cough up tears in me. At that moment I wanted to let it all out, but my lesson was going to start in less than an hour. I did not want my student walking in on me having an emo moment. Geez!
Where should I start? My name is Cain Williams, I'm a 23 year old musician. I identify as a queer lion boy, but let's hold off on my sexuality for now. We'll stick to basic facts until you know me a little better. Let's see... I was born in the Midwest, but weren't we all? By the age of 18 I had moved around more times then I could remember. I had no friends, no self identity; accept that I knew I wanted to be a musician. My first guitar was stolen from school.
An acoustic no name piece of crap, but I caressed that mother fucking wood and strings like it was my baby. I'm self taught, from age 12. Eleven years of making love to music gives you the right to call yourself "gifted" when it comes to playing something you know more intimately than your own family. I left home as soon as I graduated high school. That was just as I turned 19. I was in the big city with about $50 in cash and a nice little Fender, my first electric. I had busted the amp in a fight with my younger brother. He had thrown it against the wall and then kicked me. I never fought back. That's part of why I left home, I could not bring myself to hit back at my family. Fuck em', it was years ago.
Any how, I get sidetracked easily, I'm sorry. So where was I? Oh yeah, 19 in the city. Those were the days. I slept outside on the streets till it got cold, by then I was working the dish shifts at a local club. The manager thought I was "cute". Well, I lost the job within a few months because I didn't take to him too kindly when he touched me. I fought back then, maybe more than I should have, cuz I broke his jaw and a few ribs. No one touches me any more. That I made clear. But when I was working for that ass hole, during my off time I would watch the shows and try to talk to anyone who looked like they knew anything about the industry.
I made a few friends. One guy worked at a recording studio in the area. When I lost my job at the club I called him and he set me up as a janitor in the building. Since I worked nights and most of the bands liked to record in the early hours of the mourning I ran into them a lot in the hallways. No one big ever came in, it was a small time place with shitty equipment, but for a cheap price you could get a demo or two recorded to send off. One night I was cleaning when a guy I recognized from a band called Political Indecency came over and said there was a problem and one of his back up guitarists had quit. His name was Taylor, a bad ass crow who would had a wing clipping fetish. I thought the bird had charm. He remembered me mentioning that I liked to play guitar. The band needed a replacement just for the night to record a song or two; he said it was mostly improve anyhow. I said ok and that's how I was "discovered" I guess.
I earned $100 for every gig played with Political Indecency and more importantly I gained public exposure on the lower music circuits. It was a dream, everything began to accelerate. Taylor was so impressed by me that I got to show him some of my ideas for songs, soon we were collaborating together on a lot of shit and people started talking contracts. I was only 20 man, but hell, I wanted to be a star and Taylor and the other guys jumped right in, how could I say no? A lot of people tell me 20 is old to just be starting a career as a rock star. Fuck it, I wasn't ready and it took a lot to open my eyes to that fact.
So that's how I got a job and churned out a career, here's a little bit more personal shit mixed in so you get to see the more emotional side of things.
Enter Emma: We were playing a gig on the east side; it was big because some labels were there to hear us. Taylor was nervous. I admit to throwing up before we went on. There was this girl back stage sitting on a couch when I came out of the bathroom. Short blond spiked hair, when I glanced over the first time I thought she was a hot guy. But no, as she turned to face me and I saw her body full on, I knew. Her bright blue eyes were electric. I felt a charged bolt run up my spine and like an idiot I stumbled over to her. Many times in the past I had reprimanded my band mates for stalking groupies and acting like jackasses with blown up egos. Now here I was playing up the same image. As I took a seat next to her I ran my fingers through my black matted hair and winked at her. She rolled her eyes and hissed. Yeah, I had a think for felines like myself. This kitty was hot, but turned a cold shoulder to me as I tried to woo her.
I've never been good at seeing what people call foreshadowing, but that night I was lost in her arms. So enraptured was I that I some how totally missed the call. Taylor likes to relate how he stood mortified for almost five minutes while Kurt, our drummer attempted to stall the crowd with terrible street humor. Finally a tech aid found me and pulled me towards the stage. As I was rushed off I shouted my name at my feline hottie and said stick around till after the show.
We played like gods and won our contract. It was an independent label called Proximity. I forgot everything including that girl who had entranced me. We were going to be famous.
Fast forward to three months later and we were on the road promoting our first release. I'll skip all the details about music for now and get right to the heart of my story, the girl. After a successful night of playing our asses off we headed back to the motel and there she was sitting on our stoop. Taylor and the other guys hooted at me as she came over and slapped me across the face.
"I waited after the concert and you never came back." As she started to walk away I grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to me. "Look babe, I don't even know you're name or anything but you just hit me and made some accusations I'm willing to own up to, can we talk this out?" I asked opening the door to my room and ushering her in. She was wearing black leather pants and a tight white tank top. I could see her tits through it and it turned me on. Her blue eyes turned to ice as she crossed her arms and stared me down. "You are nothing but a pompous tomcat with no balls and the worst taste in compliments I've ever heard." She smiled and walked into the room happily. I was confused.
Six hours, two showers, and many fucks later we were laying in the bed laughing together. This girl was amazing! I was in love, for the first time I was totally taken in. I learned that her name was Emma and she was 19. That she had also grown up in a small Midwestern town and headed to the city to find a new life. She had fallen into a rough pack and ended up getting the shit kicked out of her before leaving for good. Music was her therapy and she liked what we played. I told her I'd write a song about her but she got all upset and said no. Apparently she said writing a song about her would jinx our relationship so I promised I wouldn't.
What we had I would call rock and roll love. She went on the road with us and helped with lighting at shows. The other guys grew to really like her and Taylor started calling her his little sister. Emma brought a new level of intimacy to the band. Her care giving nature melted away the emptiness in us. We were like a family. But what happens when you put all your emotional intensity in with a few select people who you live and work with on a day to day basis? Yeah, the tension started to build within that first year.
Something triggered a falling out.
I was celebrating my 21st birthday and we all went clubbing together. What happened next is still a little fuzzy in my mind; after all, I had started drinking at about 4:30 that afternoon. Taylor says part of Emma's old pack was at the bar and they recognized her. Of course the band backed her as they started hassling us and then in my drunken state, I flipped. Someone tried to grab me from behind and I decked them. Taylor took a knife to the arm and Emma was bruised badly. I had a few broken fingers from punching through a table during the brawl. We were all carted off to the station covered in blood and beer.
48 hours and $800 later we were off with some stitches, bandages and a little drunken misconduct. Emma was quiet for almost a week. I was starting to worry about her when she suddenly seemed to forget what had happened and went back to her old self again. Taylor's arm healed up along with my hand and we were back to playing again like nothing had ever happened.
Then Emma left.
I woke up one mourning to a note that read:
Cain,
I've been here too long and I'm afraid I'll wreck things soon if I stay. Please don't worry about me.
-Emma
I cried for the first time in a while. The band fell into a slump and we canceled the rest of our tour that fall. We all needed a break. Slowly, I sank into a deep depression and began drinking. I had always been a fan of the alcohol, but now I was really downing in the stuff. There were a couple of times I was rushed to the hospital for a stomach pumping, let's say by the end of winter there was a major drinking problem haunting me. I ignored it and drowned away in my sorrow thinking about Emma.
Yeah, so add alcoholic to my list of mad skills, also broken hearted, writer's block, and debt. It was a fantastic year that ended in the band's break up and Taylor getting married to some bitch (I think she was a lab) and moving to England. So, I said I would touch back on my sexuality once you knew a little more about me and now's a good time.
At some point someone intervened and I found myself in AA. Yeah, good old 12 step and a ½. "Hi my name is Cain, I'm an addict, here's my tragic story and now you all understand." No, actually the communal therapy was really helpful. I stopped drinking and started living my life again. I got a job teaching guitar and helping produce new music with a few friends. During these sunny days of my story I met Emec. He was a really talented punk unicorn who didn't give a flying fuck about fame, fortune, or big names. It was all about the art and he completely immersed himself in it. I was crushing on him big time.
As I watched him perform at an open mic night in the city, I knew I had to have him. His blue spiked hair and multiple tattoos/piercings made him look really bad ass, but he was a soft little pony once you got to know him. We had been through AA together, that's how I knew him, and he was gay. Was I? Well, I still don't really know what you'd call me but I started sleeping with Emec and it was great. We really fed off each other and I wrote some of the best music of my career.
When we weren't composing, Emec worked at a local youth organization that helped gay teens who had been kicked out of their homes find safe places to live. He counseled some of them and mentored a few others in music. I really enjoyed watching him work with the kids. They had been through so much shit, and he managed to get them laughing so easily. His easy going attitude made him approachable and I loved being a part of his life.
Well, you're mot likely wondering where this story is going to go now. Will I stay with Emec and live happily ever after? Will I get back into music and make a fortune in the industry? No, Emec and I started dating and continued to write songs, but he was not in it for the money and so we stuck to helping other dreamers get off the ground. At this point I would love to end the story with "and they lived happily ever after" but that's not what happened.
I started thinking about Emma again. I ran into a mutual old friend in a coffee shop one day. She said Emma had not been around for almost a year. That night I could not focus in bed with Emec. He knew something was up but I wouldn't talk about it. All night I stayed up thinking about her. The next day I wrote a song.
Why does the dawn always come alone?
An empty place in this bed
Your face gone missing in my mind
There are traces of a smell
Sweet damp sweat from our bodies
Fallen into darkness
I cried out your name
With no answer I lay here in silence
You play a game of risk in this heart
My body pays the forfeit of the pain
I ask myself why I don't quit
Your eyes plead with me to stay
There is strong emotion in this room
We talk of deep subject and out minds sink deeper
Deeper and deeper into that hollow space
I once lay with you there, in darkness
The rain drowned out the noise of traffic below. I was sitting on the roof writing and trying not to sink back into depression. There was a hand on my shoulder. I thought it was Emec until she caught her breath; that soft sigh and then a purr of satisfaction. I did not want to look into her eyes but I could not stop myself. She was crying. "You wrote a song. Cain, why? Why did you do this to me?"
In my mind I had played this moment over and over again. She would come to me in tears and I would embrace her lovingly and ask her to come back. But in those dreams she had not been real. Now, all the anger and betrayal welled up in me and I pushed her back. My eyes narrowed in her gaze and I grew to my full height. Towering over her I growled, "Why did I write a song? Why? Why did you leave me? You left without looking back and it killed something in my heart. I am dead because of you." She shied away from my glances and shook her head in denial. "No Cain, I did look back, again and again but I..." The pain struck hard and I cut her off sharply, "You never called, wrote, sent and email, nothing. The band broke up and I moved on, you can't come here expecting to find me the same. Get out."
I had forgotten everything, Emec, my music, the happiness of the children in the youth center, everything. Emma was walking towards the stairs when I reached out and grabbed her. I felt the claws in my side as I pulled her into me. She was silent as I pushed her to the ground. I lay on her, with all my body and clamped a paw over her mouth, but she was not screaming, not even whimpering as I began to pull off her pants. The only thing running through my mind at that moment was all the pain I felt, I wanted her to know what I had been going through all this time. All the months trying to escape through the bottom of a bottle, but now my memories were crystal clear. I looked right at her, into her eyes as my hand slid deeply into her flesh. The whites of her eyes as they rolled back into her head only spurred me on. She was not crying any more. She was mine.
I woke in a cold sweat screaming. Emec pulled me close to him and cradled me as I shook with fear. How could I have even dreamed something so beastly? The fear gripped me and I knew I had to tell Emec everything. He cried with me and then comforted me saying the subconscious of our dreams can be very dark and twisted, but it was only a dream. The nightmare would be facing Emma if I ever saw her again.
Now you have the story. I'm still with Emec, teaching now, at the local high school and mentoring young musicians. Emma had not come around. I burned the song I wrote about her and even though I still think about her from time to time, there is so much for me here now that I can't spend ant more energy regretting the past.