Page 7 of Severance

This is my normal now. Without Dakota.

And I don’t like it a single bit, because it’s empty and cold and it makes no sense. Things are just…gloomy and hopeless.

Minutes keep passing as I rock against the headboard, fighting for control over my own body and mind. After a while, the dread seizing up my chest finally begins to subside. My thoughts and memories are still a mess, and the noise inside my head doesn’t quite want to go away, but my consciousness slowly breaks through the wall of terror, piece by piece. And when I’m finally able to move and process everything adequately, I walk to my desk and open my laptop.

I’m still not fully certain about this, but the avoidance is killing me. My parents haven’t said a single word about the attack since our return from the hospital.

I sit in my chair, my heart sprinting, my fingers hovering above the keyboard. With my hands stitched up in multiple places, typing even three simple words proves to be a challenge. I wait a while before hitting the enter button, allowing my brain to prepare for the onslaught of information. My stomach twists into knots as the headlines finally fill up the screen of my laptop. Pushing regret and panic down, I click on the first article and start reading.

“Jealous Boyfriend Kills 24 People in Portland Club Shooting”

Gunman identified as 26-year-old Joseph Miller…

Hours prior, Miller shot his way into the Portland live music venue to look for his girlfriend, Andrea Coleman. He and Coleman had a disagreement over her going to a concert without his consent…

The neighbors describe couple as troubled…

When Miller arrived at The Crystal Room at about 10:25 pm, there were around 700 people inside the club…

Miller unleashed fire, killing 24 people and injuring over 200 rock concert attendees…

Coleman was a big Midnight Rust fan and could be seen at almost every show the band played in the Portland area…

Authorities say Miller acted out of jealousy. At this time, it’s not clear where he obtained the weapon…

The lead singer of Midnight Rust, Dakota Bennett, who was recently named one of the most promising guitar players of 2019, is among the victims of the attack…

Drummer Luke Jamison suffered severe spinal injuries and has been hospitalized…

I swallow through the stiffness in my throat and shut my eyes to stop the text from floating. The panic is back and it’s worse than ever because things are just plain wrong. There’s a Joseph Miller Wikipedia page, but there’s nothing when I search for Dakota’s name.

3. Before

Halfway through Black Rose’s set, Jess makes a really bold move. She waves at one of the bohemian-looking guys without consulting with me. Two seconds later, all six pairs of eyes are glued to us like bees to a honeypot. Including those of the dark prince in the leather jacket. His gaze lingers on Jess briefly, then slides over to me. It’s deep and unwavering and seems to make everyone else disappear, even the dozen or so bodies jumping to the wild beat between us. His eyes are crystal blue, like steel. The color I’ve always thought was just a myth.

My heart does something similar to a pique flip when the side of his mouth tilts up. I bite the inside of my cheek to try to prevent myself from grinning like a fool, but it’s too late. My lips stretch into a smile without checking with my brain first. I imagine my face is probably the color of a ripe tomato, but thankfully, he can’t tell since the only source of light in the club right now are the dancing spotlights.

We spend the rest of the show engaging in an intense staring competition. The kind of intense that makes my insides melt. And it’s not even because he’s been looking at me for very long; it’showhe’s been looking at me. He’s beenstudyingme like an art collector would study a canvas. It’s almost as if he can see right through me. All my secrets, all my hidden desires, all my dreams. I feel like I should break eye contact because we’re in the middle of a madhouse, surrounded by screaming fans, and I promised myself to have fun and enjoy the music. But instead, I take every bit of what he has to offer. I latch on to the faint smile and the slight nod of his head. I revel in all of his not-so-subtle signs of attention and stash them into my secret box at the very back of my imagination. For safekeeping. For later. For when I’m alone in my room.

His friend with the decent haircut interrupts him and the invisible connection between us is lost.

The music stops and the lights go out. People begin to cheer and stomp, demanding an encore.

“He’s going to bore a hole in your head, girl!” Jess yells in my ear, slapping my shoulder. She’s rocking the hot mess look. Her wet auburn curls are stuck to her neck and there are light traces of mascara under her eyes.

“You started it.” I laugh, returning my attention to the stage.

My heart’s still thump-thumping, and I’m not certain whether it’s because I’m loving the show or because of the dark leather jacket prince who’s staring at me like I’m some unknown form of extraterrestrial life.

When the first notes of the next song float through the jam-packed club, the crowd erupts. Screams of pleasure mix with the beats and lyrics, coursing through me like an invisible force. I love the feeling of freedom the music gives me—when I get lost in it entirely.

“Oh my fucking God!” Jess shrieks, pulling on the sleeve of my jacket. “He’s going to jump!” Her eyes shine with excitement. She’s like a firecracker, carefree and full of energy, and I’m loving that she’s my best friend. Because without her, my life would be an absolute bore.

Devin Monroe, the lead singer of Black Rose, is rocking on his heels at the edge of the stage, microphone near his mouth, hooded eyes scanning the crowd. Being a part of this turbulent, massive experience is as breathtaking as it is frightening, something my father probably wouldn’t approve of, but I honestly don’t care. At least not at this moment.

Devin Monroe’s body flies across the narrow pit as he launches himself from the stage to do a round of crowd-surfing. I’m being pushed and pulled in all directions, and for a second, I lose Jess. The adrenaline racing through my veins gives me an incredible feeling, one I don’t get to experience often. Dozens of quivering hands follow the singer through the air like a herd of sheep led by a lion until security helps him to the ground and escorts him back to the stage, where he finishes the song.

My ears are still ringing long after the set ends. Jess insists on staying behind in case the band decides to come out for some photos. She elbows her way to the front and clings to the barricade next to a bunch of other super fans.

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