prologue: heathen boy

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(tyler's pov)

i'm on stage. everybody's looking at me. i'm sure i've never felt this nervous in my whole career. no, in my whole life. josh gives me a reassuring look from the safety of his drum kit. i fail to acknowledge him. jenna gives me a smile from the wings. i still can't focus.

"time to give up, heathen boy."

he's here. i try to distract myself from him by looking at the crowd, but of course that doesn't help. josh and jenna don't give up in attempting to help me, but there's no hope now.

"see that crowd there? you think they're your fans. you're wrong, my dear boy. they're not here because they appreciate you. they're here because you're a fad. a trend. the next big thing. you see, the thing about fads is that they don't last long. you're in the limelight now, but come a few months and you'll be history. someone will take your place and then where will you be?"

it's getting harder. i grit my teeth in a small smile to stop myself from breaking down. i pray that he'll drop this, and leave me. but i've done that many times before. and he never leaves.

"you know where you'll be?"

oh, i know all right. 

"you'll be sitting back in your crummy little basement, slitting those pretty little wrists and praying that i'll stop. well, i won't. because i have full power over you, joseph. remember?"

i don't want to remember. but i do.

"now, what's my name?"

i don't say a word. he narrows his crimson eyes furtively.

"what's. my. name."

i open my previously pursed lips. "b-bl-"

i drop to the floor, followed by a haunting gasp. silence.

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