Page 11 of Dark Room Junkie

I recognized this voice that wanted to give me hope, but it was toxic. If I listened to it just once, it would have complete control over me. Listening to it was pathetic. Just the thought that Alex could be a glimmer of hope made me sick.

If Alex had any idea what a jerk I really was, he wouldn’t want anything to do with me anyway—not even all my bandmates knew this other side of me. In that sense, it was good that we hadn’t exchanged numbers. My task was to stick to things I could control, like music, for example. Everything else was too dangerous.

I reached the rehearsal room and turned on the lights. I then sat on the couch with Tom’s guitar and tuned the strings. This was sort of my second home. And especially in the mornings when it was the most peaceful place on earth. It was my own personal paradise.

I could dive into the music for hours here and work on my songs. Tom had shown me how to use the mixing desk to record my songs. I had been making more and more use of it lately.

I completely immersed myself in the music, switching between guitar and bass, making notes, sitting down at the drums, and then at the keyboard. All the while, I could hear the lyrics and melody in my head. Finally, I stepped back up to the microphone with my guitar and played the song.

It was music that earned me my living, and that’s how it should be in the future. I was eight when my father gave me a guitar and showed me how to play it. After that, I was hooked and couldn’t put it down. By now, I mastered several instruments, all of which I had taught myself. Thanks to YouTube, because I never had the chance to attend music school. Tom kept encouraging me to form my own band, but my answer was always the same. I wasn’t ready yet.

And I really wasn’t. My songs weren’t mature enough yet to be played in front of an audience. I knew that ultimately, it was the audience that decided, but I lacked the band to even try it out.

As long as we had the gig at Hyde with the Lighteners secured, everything was fine as it was. However, winter was approaching, which already worried me. Over Christmas and New Year’s, the club changed the program, so our concerts were canceled for a whole seven weeks. This year, I had to plan ahead because I couldn’t survive another winter like last year. The memories alone sent chills down my spine.

I quickly dismissed my thoughts and focused back on the song. I had mastered various singing techniques that allowed me to sing everything from soft rock to death metal. My own songs were mainly in the metal genre, but since I was alone on stage with the guitar, it was more of an acoustic session.

As soon as I finished the song, applause filled the room, and Marco, the bassist of Nightrain, the band we shared the rehearsal room with, emerged from the shadows at the entrance.

“Damn! I thought you were just the bassist of that other band! But you can sing! And like a pro!”

I stood frozen on stage, clutching the guitar tightly and staring at the broad-shouldered giant as if petrified.Why didn’t I notice him?I knew the whole band, and I had developed a pretty good relationship with Chris, the drummer. But with Marco, I never knew what to say to him.

What the hell is he doing here? It’s Saturday afternoon!

Marco stopped six feet in front of the stage and scrutinized me like a damn groupie.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You sound like Corey Taylor. Damn! Why didn’t you say you could sing so well?”

I was taken aback by his almost aggressive way of praising me. Apart from my bandmates from the Lighteners, no one knew I sang. Maybe because I wanted to preserve it that way. It was something no one could take away from me. But I knew this was the wrong answer. One nobody wanted to hear. And yet, it was the truest.

“You guys have a singer,” I said dryly, shrugging.

“That bastard bailed on us!” Marco ranted. “And just when things were really getting started! We’re screwed! Please save us!”

That was just a bit too much information for me to process, so I didn’t pay much attention. I knew Marco well enough to know that when he was passionate about something, he could be relentless until you gave in. I always wondered how Chris put up with him in the band.

“What are you talking about?” I asked casually, placing the guitar on the stand and turning off the amp.

“You know our sound, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you like it, don’t you?”

“Yeah?” My response this time was more of a question as I stepped off the stage and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “What’s your point?”

“Join us! As a singer!”

That was all happening a bit too fast for me. “Shit, man, what are you even doing here? Today isn’t even your...”

“Crisis meeting! We’re really desperate.”

I furrowed my brow in confusion as Chris, Ramon, and Lukas entered the room. Marco turned to them, spreading his muscular arms, and exclaimed, “The crisis is over!”

Speechless, I covered my face and shook my head.He can’t be serious, can he?

---