Britty was pacing the floor of the bedroom again. She promised herself she wouldn’t take those sleeping pills, but it was getting hard to follow that path. She felt her hands shaking, her whole body asking for a rest. She was sleepy but yet when she laid down she couldn’t close her eyes. Her body didn’t want to give in. She was way too electrical to sleep.
And she needed to close her eyes. She needed to sleep, a few seconds that way.
Impossible. Her body was so used to the idea of having that chemestry to sleep that now it didn't know what to do.
She moved resolute to the bathroom and glanced her image into the mirror. She was a disaster - traces of her stage’s make-up were yet in her face. Dark circles under her eyes, that the powder didn’t cover. The multicoloured hair was weak and messy. Grey and red and golden flocks of hair passed thru her forehead as she slipped her hands through the skull, trying to comb the hair with her fingers. She was so thin and white that wouldn’t be a miracle if she could see through her arms. "Oh my Lord, I look like an ancient", she moaned. Suddenly, without any warning, her legs didn’t hold her weight, and she fell on the ground. She knew what was that - it was her body pleading for a moment of rest, but unable to do it on his own. She felt the pain, the most intricate pain ever. It was like having one and all the nerves pressed against one wall made of pins. Her breath disappeared, and she could feel her heart wanting to get out of the ribcage, hammering in aching fits.
So that was the real meaning of dieing, she thought. But she couldn't die yet. She couldn't, she wouldn't
"Lord, I can’t hold on this pain!", she shouted, rolling on the floor. The voice wouldn’t get out by any means. She tried to shout louder, but the voice seemed to hurt her throat when it got out. She was dieing. "I promise you anything, I pay any price, but please! Please!... Take away my hands, take away my voice, but please take this pain away from me...I just can’t stand, God...please...please..."
All of a sudden her body got strangely light. She stood up, almost floating. "Man, what is going on...", she thought. Just when she was thinking, she could hear someone crying at the bedroom. She moved herself to see who was that person.
Gloom sunshine coming through the windows - typical London winter day. Mary, leaned on the bed, was crying rivers over a body laid on the bed. The tough woman didn’t hold herself again. "Britty, how come you left us like this? How come?", she asked. Brittany’s eyes opened up wide - lied on the bed... there was she! Mary was crying over her!
Britty moved closer, to see herself as a cadaver. She didn’t like of what she saw. Her face was like a wax sculpture, like the one she had at the Mme. Tussaud’s, along with the other fellows from Five-Piece. She was still wearing her show clothing. Her kaleidoscopic hair looked like a hairpiece now. The veins of the arms sketched blue rivers on her - but it was all static. The blood didn’t run though her anymore. Her hands were closed, as if she was grabbing something invisible. Someone’s hand, maybe. Or... the lethal injection.
Someone entered the room. Hari, in his old battered leather jacket. He was sad, and didn’t want to hide it. Still, he was managing to keep the head cool. He walked straight to Mary.
"Police is wanting to talk to you , Mary."
"Why? I told them all I knew already."
"They want a formal answer this time. You know, bureaucracy stuff."
"Okay...let’s see how much of this I can take.", she said, standing up, and then facing the man. "Hari, I can’t believe this is happening. Really happening. All looks like one miserable nightmare. We were at the stage last night, singing...and now she’s dead! I still can’t believe that she’s here, in this bed, and still..."
"I am sorry, Mary. There is nothing more I can say. I am sorry, hurt just like you. She was my fair lady.". Then, he stopped. His voice was beginning to trail off. He just had time to choke one last phrase. "Oh, God, if I knew what was going on!..."
Britty was scared. She was dead? But how? She could still hear them! See them!
"Brittany, I told you so. I would open the Heaven’s Gate to you. Remember? I was speaking through Hari."
She turned back. A guy in blue was in front of her. Red hair sprinkled all around his shoulders and petulant brown eyes. She knew who was that man. It was James!
"It isn’t my time, Jamie! I have a lot to do! There are all the shows...and there is the recordings... I am too young to die, damn it! I am only twenty-five! God damn it!", she cried out, all at once, nervous like never in her life.
"Nothing of it really matters now, Brittany. Your time has come."
"Oh please, please, tell I am dreaming, man! Come on. I am dreaming. Tripping. Whatever! This ain’t real! You are not real! You are dead! I’ve been at your funeral! I carried your coffin and I conforted your wife! You died!"
"I am dead? So are you, Brittany. Can’t you realise you are not here anymore?"
She leaned against the wall. Another person came inside the room. Danny Boy. Man, Danny was a mess. Dark circles under his eyes, as big as two plates of soup. Messed hair, as if he just had left the bed.
"Mary, that Mr. Whoever, from Scotland Yard, is calling you. I stay here with Hari."
"Alright. What about Eleanor?"
"She’s sleeping. Those tranquillisers did a job on her. It was for the best anyway. Her nerves wouldn’t hold her up for long anyway. I hate the idea of having to medicate her but..."
Mary left the room, and Danny Boy took her place, sat down at the bed near the corpse. "Oh boy, what a waste! What a bloody waste! She was so damn young!", he started to cry, stiffing his sighs to do not be heard. "Oh damn it, Britty, why? Why didn’t you cry for help? Why didn’t you let us help you? Damn it, damn it! Damn it, how could you, Britty? You were my best friend! How come you leave me now? How come?"
"Oh, come on, Danny, don’t cry, I am here!", Brittany shouted.
"He cannot see you anymore, Brittany. He cannot hear you anymore.", James told her.
Suddenly, the place went black. "Jamie, Jamie what’s going on?", she shouted. She started to hear people whispering... and the whispers were louder and louder. It was a newspaper parlour , and people were talking...about her! At the "Daily Mirror" ‘s cover, in shameful black, there was the news - Brittany Willians Found Dead At Her House - an overdose killed the British rock star, member of the Five-Piece Band. She took another look at "The Evening Standard" - Death Of A Wizard - Five-Piece’s Britty Willians dies of overdose at 25.
"Oh my bloody Lord, this ain’t happening to me!...", she whispered.
"It is, Britty. I told you so, didn’t I? You chose your death."
She looked to James, and then she shouted at him. "Why me? Damn it, why not Eleanor? Or Danny Boy? They all tried the drug! They are all sinners! Danny cheated on his wife and Eleanor dared of God's existence! Why it had to be me the one to die?"
"Because they knew when to turn off. You went on further on the game and refused all the helps that came in your way."
"Did I?"
"Do I need to recall how many times you shouted to Eleanor mind her own business?", James said, bitterly.
Brittany looked to him. She didn’t know what to think.
"You traded love for fame, life for a high. But what comes up must come down, honey. And it is your time to come down. It happens to everyone, you see..."
"James...tell me this is a nightmare. God, I feel so cold..."
James took her hand and they walked away from the parlour. She didn’t know where he was taking her - until he saw the towers of the St Patrick’s Cemetery. Her heart flinched. The strawberry blonde boy led her through the graves and mourning people, till he stopped in front of one grave. Brittany looked to it, and shouted - it was her gravestone!
It was the verses of the song she had written to James, but that the band didn’t record. And now it was her epitaph. She didn’t know what she should do - shout or cry or look to James, wondering if that had one answer.
Two shadows coming in her way mad her forget everything else. It was Hari and Mary. The girl was carrying one vase with orchids - Britty’s favourite flowers. Mary left the vase at the grave, and looked, without knowing what to say. One fan had written one card and left it on the cold stone - "We will always miss you, Fair Lady.", it simply said. Mary sighed.
"And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make", she quoted. "I bet she didn’t know she was so loved."
"Worshipped is the better word, Mary."
"Whatever.", she sighed. "Hari, this is hell on Earth."
"I know."
"And Eleanor is crazy, now. She’s the next on the line."
"No, she’s not. We won’t do the same mistake ever again. We already lost Britty. We won’t lose Eleanor too."
And they left the place. Britty tried to get their attention...but they didn’t even hear them. She turned around - but James wasn’t there anymore.
"Oh, my Lord...this is beyond my knowledge. Damn it, I WANT TO WAKE UP!"
She suddenly opened up her eyes. She was still laid on the bathroom’s floor. "What? I’m still alive!", she shouted, and managed to stand up and leave the bathroom. She picked up the phone, and dialled a number in vain. "Hello? Hari? Here’s Britty. Listen up, did I wake you up? I need your help, Warlock. I had the worst nightmare of my lifetime. No, I am not on anything. I am sober...and I need to talk to you. Desperately. No, don’t... don’t leave yer house. I am going to you. Where are you, by the way? Chelsea? Gimme just one time to pull myself up...and I will go to you. Okay? See you, then."
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