Crashing

FREYA

I pushed through a crowd of smoke, vaporized weed, and scores of people gathered in a tight cluster around the glass table, scanning the room for Liam.

He was nowhere to be seen.

As I waded over to the window, intent on getting some fresh air, I caught sight of the second sitting room, just through the kitchen, where another crowd of people were drunkenly writhing to the music.

Standing in the middle of them, with a bottle in his hand, with all of their eyes trained on him like he was the second coming of Christ, was Liam.

Liam took a massive swig from what looked like a bottle of whiskey, laughing at something someone had said.

Instead of coming back to the hotel after a brief stop at the after-party as he said he would, Liam had decided to avoid me. Out of anger, or fear, or just pure weakness.

Or maybe the fast life, the party life—the one he used to know all too well—had finally drawn him back in.

“Oh no—~someone~ looks like they’re not enjoying themselves,” came a deep voice.

I peered up into Jeb’s hazel eyes and couldn’t help but feel a tiny shred of relief.

At least in this party of insufferable strangers, there was ~one~ familiar face.

And it wasn’t Liam’s.

“Hey, Jeb.” I smiled.

“You know, you really look beautiful tonight,” Jeb said, eying the silky red slip I’d been sleeping in. “It’s a pity he doesn’t notice.”

“It’s fine,” I muttered.

“No, it’s not,” he replied. “If I had you, I would never leave you alone with these fucking asskissers.”

“I’m sure they’re not all bad,” I lied.

“I see you, Freya,” Jeb said, leaning in closer. I smelled the bourbon on his breath.

“And I think that ~we~”—he wrapped an arm a bit too low around my waist, pulling me toward him—“could really have something special.”

I removed his hand from my backside and took a generous step away. “Jeb, I don’t—”

“Think about it, baby,” he whispered into my ear. “Why don’t—why don’t we go somewhere alone to talk?”

Jeb grasped hold of my wrist and I tried to jerk free.

“Please, let go of me.”

His grip tightened, and he pulled me toward his body again.

My eyes flew back to Liam, who was still utterly oblivious to me in the other room.

I somehow managed to break free from Jeb’s hold and dove into the mass of partiers, cutting through the makeshift dance floor.

Glancing over my shoulder, I realized Jeb was following me, smirking.

~Shit. Shit. Shit!~

I clawed my way out of the mass of people and made a break for the hallway.

“And just where are you going?” Jeb’s voice followed me, teasing.

He’d cleared the cluster of people grinding and swaying and followed me into the hall.

“Come on, Freya, don’t be like that. I’m sure Liam won’t mind,” he slurred.

The look in Jeb’s eyes told me he wouldn’t give up—not until he got exactly what he wanted.

~Me.~

I made a dash for our bedroom at the end of the hall and turned to slam the door, realizing that there was no lock.

Cursing, I dove for the bathroom just as he burst into the room.

My hands were trembling as the adrenaline pumped through my veins, making it almost impossible to slide the bathroom lock into place.

But I managed it.

“Aw, come on, babe. Come out of there,” he coaxed through the door, rattling its handle furiously.

“Leave me alone!” I demanded.

After a prolonged silence, he began to slam his fists against the door, screaming profanities furiously.

“You fucking teasing ~bitch~!”

Backing away from the door, I bumped into the far wall of the bathroom and slid down to the floor.

My arms wrapped instinctively around my knees and I curled into a ball, feeling tears cascade down my face.

~Stop it.~

~I can’t take it.~

The door quaked beneath the fury of his fists, and as the pale pink wood began to splinter, the overwhelming flow of tears clouded my vision.

And then suddenly I was in that other place.

That other bathroom…

***

~“Come on, Dad,” I groan, struggling to lift him up the stairs to our front porch.~

~I’ve just found him here, passed out next to a bottle of Jack for all of our neighbors to see.~

~“Where’s Mase?” he gurgles.~

~“Mase is at school,” I explain. “He left last month.”~

~“Why aren’t you at school?”~

~“Because I need to be here for you,” I mutter so he can’t hear me. We’ve finally reached the landing at the top. I unlock the front door and help him inside.~

~Once I close the door behind me, he manages to stand up straight, and saunters off to the living room like nothing has happened.~

~“Dad?” I call after him, following him into the den.~

~He’s pouring himself a glass of scotch, his shaking hands spilling the liquid all over the counter.~

~“Why couldn’t you have just left?” he demands, rage flashing through his bloodshot eyes.~

~“You~ did this to her!” ~he spits, chugging the contents of the glass before reaching to pour himself another.~

~“I’m sorry,” I whisper, staring shamefully at my feet.~

~My father staggers over to me, the glass of whiskey stirring and sloshing onto the carpet.~

~“Is that all you have to say for yourself?” I look up just in time to see his raised fist before it swings free, striking me across the jaw.~

~I fall backward, slamming into the glass liquor cabinet, and glance up in time to see the bottles begin to topple and rain down on me.~

~A bottle of vodka hits me square in the forehead, a shower of broken glass exploding all around me, slicing through my skin.~

~The alcohol seeps into the cuts, stinging me all over, and I cry out in excruciating pain.~

~“Frey?” I look up at the man who taught me how to ride a bike, who checked my closet every night for monsters and cried when I got into CalArts.~

~I can’t see that man anymore, and the truth is that I can’t remember the last time I did.~

~“Frey, are you hurt?” he asks, seeming to sober up. I launch myself past him and run for the downstairs bathroom, fear propelling me forward.~

~I lock myself in the bathroom, wedging my body between the toilet and the bathtub. I curl into a ball, staring at the door as tears overtake me.~

~My shaking hands reach for my cell phone, and I dial Mason’s number. As always, it goes to voice mail.~

~“Mason,” I plead, “please help me. It’s Dad. He’s—”~

~And then the door begins to pound and shudder as my dad slams his fists against it in a fury.~

~I jump in shock and the phone falls from my hands, skittering across the tile, and butts up against the door.~

~Shrinking into myself, I watch in horror as the door begins to splinter.~

LIAM

~Fuck, how did I get so drunk?~

I looked down at the bottle of Maker’s Mark in my hand. It had been full when we got back to the suite.

I didn’t mean to invite nearly half of the after-party back to my hotel, but I’d been deep in a conversation with Docteur Électrique, an up-and-coming Parisian DJ who wanted to talk about a possible collaboration.

And then I invited him back to talk business…

And then he invited his entire entourage…

~Shit.~

~Freya was waiting for me.~

~I told her I’d come straight back.~

~She’s probably pissed.~

“Sorry,” I muttered to whoever I was currently talking to—I really had no idea—and impulsively made for the bedroom.

I waded through the cloud of drunken bodies, stumbling, and pushed toward the hallway.

~Goddamn it. I knew I didn’t need that last shot.~

~The last three, actually.~

Tripping over my feet again, I made for the last bedroom on the left-hand side. As I drew near, I could barely make out a ~pounding~ noise, which seemed to be coming from inside.

I pushed the door open, immediately feeling my entire body tense up.

Jeb was hurling himself against the bathroom door, which looked like it was moments away from giving out.

And from the bathroom came the heart-wrenching sound of Freya sobbing.

“What the ~fuck~ are you doing?” I demanded, stomping across the room to grab Jeb by his shirt.

My already-blurry vision was starting to go red.

Jeb halted immediately when he saw me, in terror.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, you piece of shit!”

Pure rage swelled inside of me again, and I suddenly became very aware of the weight of my fists, which were balled.

I was an instant away from murdering my bassist on the spot.

My eyes snapped back over to the bathroom door, where I could still hear Freya sobbing.

I needed to get to her.

Immediately.

“Just fuck off,” I growled, releasing him.

Undoubtedly afraid I might change my mind, Jeb stalked out of the room.

“Freya!” I yelled through the battered door. “Frey, it’s me. Let me in. He’s gone. It’s over.”

Freya grew silent.

~I need to hold her.~

“Frey, please,” I pleaded, lowering my voice.

After an imposing silence, I heard the lock click.

She was sitting on the floor of the bathroom, just beside the door, her face entirely red from crying.

I scooped her up and carried her to the bed, kissing her gently on the top of her head.

“I’m so sorry,” I told her. “You’re safe now.”

I crawled onto the mattress, scooting in next to her and stroking her hair.

“That was the point, wasn’t it?” she muttered, almost to herself. “The guards. The constant surveillance. And you couldn’t even protect me when it mattered.”

I flinched, feeling the truth in her words.

“You weren’t here,” she continued, turning her face away from me.

“I know.” I wrapped my arms around her, nestling my face into her shoulder. “Please, forgive me, I’m—”

Freya suddenly recoiled from my touch.

“You’re wasted,” she accused.

“~Wasted~ is a strong word,” I replied, hearing myself slur.

Without another word, Freya removed herself from my arms and inched to the opposite edge of the massive bed, rolling to her side to create a wall between us.

A world away from me.

I wanted to tell her that I was sorry for—well—everything, but what good would it do?

Anything I said in my pathetic, drunken state would come out wrong.

And as I watched our relationship crumble before my eyes, I knew it was a risk I simply couldn’t take.

FREYA

I watched Liam’s chest swell and compress with each massive, drunken breath.

I stared at his face, so beautiful and careless—so untouched by the filth of his present life.

The man who changed my entire world.

But this man who I’d fallen in love with was not the only person inhabiting his body.

He shared his flesh with a monster—a perfect storm of fame, partying, and self-loathing—which he could repress from time to time, but which would ultimately take the reins.

I could never have one without the other.

~I can’t do this.~

I’d been keeping the deafening thought at bay all day, hoping that he would do something—~anything~—to change my mind.

But we were only into the second day of the tour and I was quickly realizing the glaring truth.

I didn’t belong in his world.

I never would.

Behind the line of security guards and the glitzy dresses, the woman that he and everyone else needed me to be was not someone I would allow myself to become.

I knew what I had to do next.

~He’ll understand eventually.~

Maybe he would and maybe he wouldn’t.

But one day, when the wounds turned to scars and the scars slowly faded away, I could have a shot at a life I actually wanted.

It was time to go back home.