Page 50 of Giving Chase

I don't remember jumping. One second I'm on stage, the next I'm throwing punches, surrounded by screaming fans. Fists connect with flesh. The phone crunches under someone's boot. Security's trying to pull me back but I'm fighting them too, everything a blur of sweat and blood and chemicals burning through my veins.

They drag me backstage. I'm screaming something about the show, about finishing the set. Will's there, saying words I can't process. Mark's shaking his head. And Eliza?—

Eliza.

She stands in the hallway, still wearing that black leather jacket that makes her eyes look like storm clouds. Steel grey swimming with concern.

"Get out." Her voice cuts through the chaos. Everyone scatters except the two security guards holding me up. "Now. Everyone out."

"Eliza." My tongue feels too thick. "Show's not over. Gotta finish. Gotta—the lights are wrong. Everything's wrong."

"Chase..." Her voice softens as she steps closer. "What did you take?"

"You're a coward," I slur, because my brain's shorting out and nothing makes sense except her face swimming in front of me. "Hide behind your desk while I'm out here... out here bleeding music. S'all wrong. The songs don't work anymore. They just... they just keep screaming and screaming and I can't make them stop and you're not... you're supposed to... why aren't you fixing it? You always fix it. Fix me. Please, 'Liza, just..."

The concern in her eyes deepens. She reaches for my face and I lean into her touch like a dying man reaching for salvation.

"Chase, baby, you're not making sense." Her thumb strokes my cheek. When did she start crying? "I need you to focus. What's in your system?"

The pills in my pocket feel like they're burning through the denim. New ones. Guy outside promised they'd keep me flying. Keep the music from screaming.

"Can't..." The room's spinning faster now. There's a roaring in my ears like distant waves. "Can't remember. Everything's too bright. You're too bright. Always so bright..."

"Chase? Chase, look at me."

I try. God, I try. But the darkness is winning and my body's not listening and?—

The last thing I feel is her hands on my face. The last thing I hear is her voice breaking as she screams for someone to call 911.

Then nothing.

The hospital room comes into focus slowly. Everything hurts - sharp, raw, real pain that tells me the drugs are finally leaving my system. There's a steady beeping somewhere to my left.

And Eliza.

She's curled in a chair by my bed, still wearing that leather jacket. Her platinum hair's a mess, purple ends tangled. Mascara tracks map the path of every tear she's shed.

"How..." My throat feels like sandpaper. "How long?"

Her eyes flutter open. Steel grey meets mine, red-rimmed and exhausted but so full of love it hurts to look at directly.

"Three days." Her voice cracks. "You seized twice in the ambulance. Once more at the hospital. They had to restart your heart."

Jesus.

"You stayed."

She reaches for my hand, careful of the IV. Her fingers tremble against mine.

"Of course I stayed." Fresh tears spill down her cheeks. "I'll always stay. But I can't... I can't keep watching you destroy yourself. It's killing me, Chase."

I try to squeeze her hand. Try to find words that will make this better. But there aren't any. Not anymore.

"I know," I whisper.

She brings our joined hands to her lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. "I love you. I've always loved you. But I can't do this anymore."

She stands, smoothing her wrinkled clothes with her free hand. Three days' worth of wrinkles. When she lets go of my hand, it feels like a final chord fading out.

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