Page 115 of Take My Hand

Reid’s fingers move so effortlessly across the strings of his guitar as he looks out toward the crowd, a look of pure bliss on his face as he plays the familiar notes.

Walker sits motionless behind his kit, eyes glued in on Reid with a warmth directed toward him that I haven’t seen in a long time.

Nikolai shakes his arms out before gripping the microphone with both hands, closing his eyes, and letting out the first lyrics of the song.

I pop my in-ears out, wanting to hear the crowd sing along and what a beautiful sound it is.

Reid’s voice joins in for the pre-chorus, and I join in with my bassline, supporting the rhythm Walker sets behind me.

As we all play our part in the song that defined our career, our eyes meet each other and an understanding passes between the group.

The crowd will claim this moment as theirs, but it’s really for us.

We transition into the chorus and through the second verse flawlessly, each of us giving it everything we have and milking everything we can out of it.

And then through the music, through the roar of the crowd, through the bittersweetness of this final song, I hear it.

The sound that haunts me both day and night.

The sound that hurdles me headfirst into the scariest moment of my life.

One that I never ever wanted to hear again.

The pop of gunshots.

39

CARTER

Sparks of every color bloom across the sky and I zoom out my shot to get the entire stage in the frame with the bursts of fireworks. The crowd behind me screams their excitement at the display during the final song and I’m so distracted by the beauty of it that I don’t realize that Nikolai has stopped singing.

I bring my camera back to the stage, adjusting my lens and refocusing on the guys.

Walker is still trying to maintain the beat of the song while Reid continues to play but the two of them anxiously dart their eyes to Hayden and Nikolai, who are frozen.

I notice Nikolai for the first time and the paleness of his usually sun-kissed skin has a stone dropping in my stomach.

Hayden looks like he’s seen a ghost, like he’s living in a nightmare. And for him, his nightmare has already been his reality.

Nikolai crouches slightly, shoulders hunched inward as if his instincts caved his body in to try to make himself smaller.

My eyes dart back and forth between the two of them, realization dawning.

The panic in their eyes.

The way they both are paralyzed by the fear coursing through them.

The fireworks.

They thought they were gunshots.

As if finally coming back into his own mind, Hayden ducks offstage and before I even know what I’m doing, my feet are carrying me through the pit, past security, and up the stairs to the backstage area to find him.

The area is crowded, and at first, I try to politely dodge and duck through people, but it gets me nowhere.

“Fuck it,” I mutter, everything in my body screaming at me to find Hayden right now. I start pushing people aside.

Finally breaking through the throng of people and winding back past the wings, I frantically turn in circles, trying to find him. The space is dark, even more so now that the sun has set, and I barely manage to keep my feet under me as I stumble over a lump of cords running across the floor.

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