The Music Lives - Chapter 1

By Stila, resident author

     As Taylor walked along the ocean shore, he cried. No reason, really. Or maybe a million reasons. Taylor didn't want to know.

     Sometimes you just can't do things because of who you are.

***

Spring 2002

     "Get in the car!" Isaac called to me from the limo. My heart was pounding as I ran from the group of fans that were trailing behind me. My foot caught on the curb and before I knew it I was on the ground, bodies lunging at me from every direction. "Come on, Tay!" Isaac called. I couldn't come on, though. I was helpless in this mob of fans, despite my attempts to fight back. My vision began to blur as I felt myself being dragged against the pavement.

     The next thing I knew I was in the limo, hyperventilating.

     "Is he okay?" a voice said.

     "I'm f... fine..." I tried to say, but my lungs did not cooperate with my brain. My breath came in short spurts. Eyes stared at me. My head throbbed.

     "Did they hurt you, Tay?" Zac asked. I didn't know the answer to this question, but I shook my head 'no.'

     People crowded around me until I could finally lift myself up to sit. Now I sit silently for the rest of the car ride while everyone talks about the incident that occurred just a few minutes prior. Incident?! More like catastrophe! Those people should have been arrested, I think as I stared out the car window. They almost pulled my fucking hair out.

     No, I'm not bitter. It's just that these people never leave me alone. Okay, I can appreciate the fact that they buy our records and come to our shows. In fact, our third album went 6 times platinum in the first 3 months. All of a sudden, we had a following again. It's just that attacking the keyboardist is not included in the admission fee. It sucks, I think, still staring out the window, how so many people can love you and yet you hate them all.

     I reach to my back pocket to get a cigarette, but I refrain from doing so, remembering that my dad still doesn't know I smoke. I know what you're thinking. He's 18, he's an adult. He can smoke if he wants to. I like you're way of thinking. Unfortunately, that is not my family's rationale. Family values, that's what my dad's all about. Funny though, how he won't let me smoke, yet he allowed us to get into the music business, the business of sin and vice. Come on, hasn't he heard of the term "Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll"?? Guess not. I save my urge to smoke until I'm in my own hotel room.

     Meanwhile, my heart is still pounding, anger seeping through my veins. Why can't people just leave me alone?