Swan Song

All In My Head

                "What in the Sam hell are you talking about, Zachary?" I questioned, turning in my seat to stare at him with a look that hid curiosity and displeasure. I didn't appreciate the vagueness, I never had, and he damn well knew that, so why was he being so secretive all of a sudden? When he didn't answer, I let a sigh hiss through etween my teeth as I slumped back into the car seat and watched as the LA streets passed by.
                Zach's car pulled into a parking spot moments later, and the music that had been blaring through the radio suddenly cut off to silence. "Nikki," Zach started, turning to me with a strange seriousness in his eyes. "Something's gonna happen tonight, and your life's never gonna be the same after that. Just promise me that after that, don't forget who you are, okay? Don't forget where you came from, and don't forget me, got it?"
                "Zach, what on earth are you talking about?" I pressed, my brows creased together in concern.
                He didn't answer for several moments, the silence only cut off by a small huff and an innocent chuckle. I slipped out of the car, my nerves rattled from the strange interaction between me and my friend. He stepped out after me, the eerie haze that had ghosted his features gone, and his normal, relaxed expression returning.
                With a shared glance, we both sprinted toward the doors, the sound of feet slapping against pavement echoing with the beating of my heart. I felt the adrenaline streak through my body, making my cells sing with the excitement of being alive.
                I reached the line several moments before Zach, stopping seconds before slamming into the person in front of me. My friend caught up with me moments later, his breathes coming in short gasps as he bent over in an attempt to recover. Looking up, I saw the line start to move and tugged on Zach's sleeve to drag him forward. He stumbled ahead awkwardly, finally recovering from the sprint just enough to let out a cheer of excitement.
                After ten or so minutes of awkward shuffling, we were inside the venue, which was far bigger on the inside than it seemed. The ceiling towered above us, and the stage stretched wide across the room, perfect for the rowdy band that was about to inhabit it.
                "C'mon, we've got to get good spots!" I pushed, breaking into another sprint across the floor in a successful attempt to reach the front of the stage.
                "Christ on a crapstick, Nikki, could you slow down?" Zach cursed, catching up and resting against the guard rails.
                I turned and looked at him with a cheery grin, shaking my head violently. "No can do, my friend!" I answered, turning back to the stage and looking at it in awe. I couldn't believe that I was right in front of the stage that my idols would be playing on moments from now.
                The lights dimmed and the crowd cheered out in an animalistic howl. The opening bands played, doing a great job at getting the crowd worked up, and finally, the moment everyone was waiting for, had arrived. The lead singer of the final opening band called out for the six guys that made up Hollywood Undead one at a time as they ran out on stage, waving their hands back and forth.
                "Good evening Los Angeles!" Charlie shouted, throwing his hands up to get the audience riled up. "Who's ready for this shit?" He asked, though the screams of the audience spoke for themselves.
                Music blasted from the stage and through the speakers, and I easily recognized the intro to Party By Myself as I shouted along to the lyrics. Funny Man was leaning down into the crowd, and the closer he got to me, the faster my heart raced, feeling my face flush with excitement as he came face to face with me. His hand reached forward to brush against my face as he pulled his mask up, winking at me before pulling it down once again.
                Time crawled by satisfyingly slow as they played one song after another, and right as One More Bottle began playing, Johnny stepped to the front of the stage and shouted through the microphone.
                "Now which one of you motherfuckers wants to come up and sing with us?" He called out, answered by a chorus of 'Me! Pick me!' Though there were undoubtably hundreds of people to choose from, his eyes slipped along the front of the crowd, lazily landing on my flushed form. He reached out and grabbed me, pulling me on stage and tossing me a microphone, leaning in and instructing me to sing the chorus.