She's a saint, not a sinner.

What is left

5 months have passed since the dive bar incident 

Brian's POV.:

We were all gathered in the cold, unwelcoming office of our record label, the fluorescent lighting making the guys, me included, groan as we hadn't slept much in days. Riley Scott had his million dollar smile plastered across his tired face, trying his best to lift our spirits:

'Right, guys, how's the song writing going? Anything we can listen to yet?'

Ever since the tragic night of June 12th, the head of the record label had tried to pressure us into  dealing with our emotions by writing a song about it that they could cash in on big time. 20 people had been injured that night. It was the worst night of our lives. The fact that our music that was supposed to bring joy brought so much destruction to so many innocent people was keeping us all up at night. 

'We told you, we're not writing a fucking song about this' Matt said in a calm, but stern voice and Riley just shook his head.

'Listen guy, you've built so much momentum, your old records have sold like never before since that night and people who have never heard of you before are buying your music. This is something to celebrate'. 

Avenged Sevenfold had turned mainstream over night, being sensationalised by the media, coined 'the doors' of this generation with out-of-control shows. The country was divided into two opinions: that we were Gods and risking your life at our shows was worth it while others were asking us to dissolve the band as that was the appropriate thing to do after that night. 

As a band we were unsure what to do, but our contract with the label was binding us for the next 2 years to tour and to record. 

'We agreed to tour the big stadiums, but we're definitely not recording that fucking song' I said, my fist clenched, ready to grab Riley by the collar if he kept pushing this topic.

'Okay fine' Riley threw his hands up in surrender. 'It's up to you. You're missing out on a lot of money boys, just saying'.

'We never started this band for the money you prick' Jimmy said through gritted teeth.

When I finally got back home, I found Sher in the same position on the couch where I had left her. She was fiddling around with the DSLR camera I had bought her four months ago. She didn't look up when I walked in. She was lucky to be alive the doctors had said, and that a trauma like this could chase her for the rest of her life. I was hoping for the old Sherine to return, sometimes I would get a quick glimpse of her when she would burst out laughing, but then minutes later return to the sheltered person she had become. 

Sherine's POV .:

'Shit, baby girl you scared the living shit out of us'. It was Adam. He attempted to hug me, but given the state my frail body was in, he awkwardly patted the side of my shoulder instead. His face said it all. He looked sad, shocked and worst of all guilty. I had grown so weak just lying around the hospital bed all day. I had suffered a bunch of broken ribs that had partially punctured my lungs in the process. I tried to sit up a little and to get myself out of this helpless pathetic state that I was in. The guys visited every day. Brian would often stay at the hospital for the night. They all felt guilty when really it had never been their fault. 

'Here I brought you this. I know you love this kind of stuff' he handed me a stuffed plush animal with a card. 

'Get well soon, I'll see you around' he quickly exited the room, and in the pit of my stomach I already knew. Shortly after, Brian walked in.