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NEVER LET GO
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I never thought I'd know what it was like to be shot at.
I never had any idea that people would be killed for listening to our music.
I never knew anything tragic would come of making music.
I was blocking all sounds out, shutting my eyes, and thinking "happy thoughts." When that didn't work, I allowed myself to tune in to the T.V. Everything sounded like a jumbled mess at first. I could hear screaming, crying, sirens, people calling to one another, and I was finally able to depict the voice I was searching for.
"...a terrible tragedy!" The newscaster said, shaking her head. I looked at all the ambulances the camera was aiming at.
"Yes, Angela, that certainly is. We'll have more on the Hanson Concert Massacre after these messages," another lady said. Dad flipped it to another station with the news on. I listened intently to yet another blond woman on the television.
"...sad. Every mother is mourning for the twelve girls that were hurt here tonight. For those of you just tuning in, the Hanson concert that was scheduled here tonight, is, of course, canceled. About ten minutes after the pop brothers began the concert, twenty-five shots rang out. Immediate chaos took over the frightened girls, most of which were from ages eight to fifteen. A race to the door became a stampede, and once the crowd slowed, and the police and medics moved in, nine girls were pronounced dead on the scene. Seven died from gunshot wounds and two from being trampled. The other three girls were at the hospital in critical condition, all their injuries were gun inflicted. No names have been released because all twelve victims are minors and some relatives have yet to be notified. Please, if your children are here, come pick them up immediately. The rest of the crowd is shaken up. Hanson was not harmed during this concert, although a few shots were geared toward them. The masked people that caused this have been caught and are being held at the county jail..." I tuned the lady out. We had been shot at, nine girls were dead, all because they loved us. I was still in shock. The news had hit Ike hard. He immediately began crying, even before he knew about the nine. Zac cried after he heard about the nine; he was glad we were intact. It just hadn't hit me yet. I played the scene back in my head:
Dad was taping the show for our new home video, I glanced over and sang at the camera. He moved it to a pan out of the audience, and suddenly gunfire began. The first thought that ran through my head was, "Were those gunshots?!?" That was when I noticed one girl fall. She kind of collapsed to the floor, blood beginning to soak through her shirt. I panicked. Was she dead? I was in shock after that moment, so I ran, but it was like one of those bad dreams where you can't run fast enough. My legs turned to rubber; they just stopped working. I ended up managing to wobble to the side of the stage, knees still shaking. My mind had raced with thoughts, "Why...?", "How?..." I looked over my shoulder to see out the curtain as we were being ushered to the back room. The audience looked more like a sea of frightened animals than a crowd of girls. The sounds, the awful sounds! Shots, screams, cries for help, crying in general, the thud of my still moving feet on the hall concrete. All were terrifying and all would stay with me forever.
I snapped to attention suddenly, pushing the sights, sounds...all of it, out of my head. I pushed reality away. Dad had ended up catching some of the shooting on tape and the police confiscated it for evidence.
"...blood stains all over the signs left behind. This one is quoted to say, 'Taylor, I love you, will you marry me?' If only they had known their love would be their end..." the news bitch said. I hated her, because right then it hit me like a ton of bricks.
"Nine girls," my lip trembled. "Nine, dead, because of us." Everyone was lost in their own thoughts, so no one ran to comfort me. It seemed as if each of us were absent to the rest. If we weren't being held in this room, I might have taken a walk, but since someone tried to kill us, we weren't allowed to leave. I couldn't decide if that was a blessing or a curse. I allowed the hot tears to slide down my face. I solemnly turned to look at Ike. He was across the room, staring at me, but he wasn't seeing me. He had his knees pulled up to his chin, his arms holding his legs tightly to his chest. His eyes were glazed over, mouth gaping, as if he were running the horrific events over and over in his head. I turned my gaze to Zac. Zac was fiddling with his wrist watch, tapping and looking up and around at every sound. He acted very paranoid, scared and confused. Dad was still glued to the television. He was also in disbelief. What was going to happen to us after this? What would our fans think? We'd have to cancel all our concerts, no one would dare come to any of the others! I buried my head in my hands to mourn for the girls and wallow in self pity.
The press was nuts about talking to us. Our story had been captured and everyone wanted a piece of us. We had newspapers calling us, T.V. stations requesting interviews, magazines wanted to put us on the covers, and suddenly, none of the hard work seemed worth it. Hanson was pretty much over now anyway. Our name had been turned to mud with the gun fire that attacked our crowd last night. Never had we been so unpopular, yet so popular.
We were going to face the press today, we had to. They were having a joint funeral for the girls and we wanted to go. We each took a dozen roses, one for each girl. Yeah, the other three had passed on, unfortunately. I was terrified of these girls' mothers. There were enough of them to take me out alone, so we brought extra security. I dressed myself in my black suit, and gathered my roses. A soft knock came upon my door.
"Yeah?" I practically whispered. Since the incident, conversation has dissipated in our family. We just pray a lot and whisper, if we say anything to one another. I've locked myself in my room lately, crying, praying and writing.
"Tay, its time," Mom attempted to smile. "I'm sorry honey." That's all mom had said to me lately, "I'm sorry" and "I love you." I lifted the corners of my mouth at her, to show her I heard, then collected my belongings.
"Today we will remember the lost souls of Amber Marie Jenik, Theresa Elise Briscol, Lydia Katrine Trite..." I listened as the pastor listed all of the names. The press was eagerly awaiting outside. We promised to have a conference after the funeral. I looked around at the church pews filled with upset relatives and friends. It made me feel even worse as people glared at me, as if it was my fault. Dad wouldn't let us believe it was, but we WERE a part. The twelve caskets sitting in front of us held girls that had just wanted to see us, hear us, be within 100 feet of us, and now they were dead. It came time for everyone to go by and place flowers and rememberances on the caskets, all twelve caskets were closed. I wanted to be the first one to go down the line. I started at the beginning, placing the first rose down. One for Amber, one for Theresa, one for Lydia, one for Amy, one for Carissa, one for Callie, one for Melissa, one for Kelly, one for Martha, one for Julia, one for , one for Danielle, and one for Tiffany, I said silently, placing a rose on each wooden bin. They were gorgeous mahogany caskets, top dollar. We'd offered to pay for all the funeral arrangements, and were taken up graciously. Just a small price to pay for so many lost. I regretted not being able to talk to these young ladies. Again the tears came. All I could think about is, "If only they were still here, if only the concert had been okay..." I also wondered how someone could kill another person. The four killers involved in the massacre admitted it was an inside job. They had previously worked there, and had gotten past security with their guns. As I wandered back to my seat, I thought about the reason they had used for this.
"We just wanted to know what it would be like to stand in the lime light," they claimed. I would have gladly given them my career. They could have had it if that was all they wanted. I wanted a good reason as to why the hell they would take twelve innocent girls' lives to be "stars." I hope they were sentenced to death, for they had betrayed themselves, and God.
I walked out, hands locked with my brothers. Despite lack of conversation, I felt even closer to them through this event. The press began bombarding us with questions as we were escorted to the "conference area." I sat on the provided chair, releasing Ike's hand. He looked at me as if I'd just exposed him, naked, to the world. He grabbed aimlessly for my hand again. I slipped it back in, seeing that he needed the comfort. I didn't even try to release Zac's hand, his grip tightened with every passing second. It felt as if they would never let go, but I never wanted them to either. The press was calmed and we began answering questions, one by one, explaining every answer in depth, or until they were satisified. When we left the table,I felt empty. I felt that my reason for living life had been drained from me, as if I'd left my soul back on the chair, or maybe a little in each casket. I was out of tears this time.
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