This is a repost under my original name. I have technically quit LPfiction (on a temporary basis) but I got a sign to repost this.

Dedicated to Amsterdam. You stole my heart.

Painted On My Memories.

Chester turned from the bar with a Jack Daniels and coke in one hand and a regular coke in the other; with a pink straw he specifically requested dangling off the side of the glass. He weaved his way through the crowd and stopped next to the drummer.

“Here’s that drink I owed you.” Chester nudged Rob and handed him his coke.

“Cheers.” Rob replied accepting the glass and pulling a face at the pink straw; he shook his head and smiled at Chester before taking the straw from the glass. He ran it through his mouth to drink the drips before turning to the table behind and sliding it into an empty bottle. “Is that coke too?” Rob asked as he finally took a sip of his drink.

“JD and coke.” Chester replied, his eyes travelling around the room of yet another party arranged by Warner.

“You’re not gonna get smashed tonight are you?” Rob spoke loudly over the din in the room, and his serious tone caused the vocalist to turn and look at him.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” Chester replied sincerely. He stared into the glass letting the dark liquid mesmerize him as he looked for his answers.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Chester smiled reassuringly at Rob, “I know drink isn’t the answer and it’ll only give Sam more to shout about.”

“True and I don’t want to be cleaning up all your sick.” Rob spoke lightly and Chester chuckled.

“You know I’d do the same for you.”

“I don’t drink.” Rob pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

“That’s not my fault. The offers there.”

“Have you seen the others?” Rob changed the subject after rolling his eyes at the older man.

“Mike and Joe are at the bar. I don’t know where Phoenix is and I don’t think Brad is even here yet- I think he was on the phone to Monica.”

“He just sent me a message.” Mike spoke up from behind them, “He’s on his way.”

“Is it wrong that I’m bored already?” Rob asked them both with a sigh.

“Nope. I’ve lost count of these pointless label parties- I’ve already been dragged off to meet new executives.” Mike spoke with irritation.

“Anyone asked if we’d be interested in writing a song for a movie yet?”

“Not yet- maybe they only want you to write the song.” Mike shrugged at Chester. Up until this point the only din in the room had been mindless chatter but they all jumped when the music of Sum 41 blasted out at them.

“The men in suits will love this.” Chester muttered loud enough for the others to hear.

“I thought some unsigned bands were going to play.” Rob contemplated out loud as his eyes scanned the people around him.

“Well I’m going to get another drink.”

“You drank that fast.” Rob observed looking at Chester pointedly.

“It’s fine.” Chester replied, “I’m fine Rob.” He touched Rob’s forearm in a reassuring gesture, “I’ll be back with a coke.” The vocalist turned and walked away, sliding himself between the people as he made his way to the bar. Looking around he noticed how full the bar had become, he could only pick out one or two people he knew were connected with Warner. Chester would’ve thought it’d been a private party unless Warner has invited a lot of unsigned bands in the area. As Chester stood by the bar he really hoped he wouldn’t be asked for his opinion, he couldn’t be bothered with that; he had more important things on his plate.

“Just a coke.” Chester called out over the bar and the guy nodded before grabbing a glass.

“Chester.” Someone called and he turned to face a Warner rep that he knew well. He pulled the older man into a brief hug before turning back to the barman to pay for his drink. Chester took a sip of his coke before placing it back on the bar and turning back to his friend.

“So Tom, what have you been up too?”

“This and that.” Tom grinned cheekily. He was in his mid thirties but still held the appearance and charm of someone in their early twenties. A quality Chester loved and admired.

“This and that? Sounds ominous. I’d have thought I’d seen you sooner with all these parties being thrown.”

”Yeah I know. This is the first of yours I could get too. Unfortunately your band isn’t the only band or artist Warner is stalking at the moment. I have been very busy wining and dining our stars…, including Madonna last weekend.”

“What?” Chester exclaimed and gapped at Tom.

“Course I didn’t get to speak to her because I’m not important enough.” Tom explained with a smile, he has been the one to get hold of an exclusive CD of Madonna’s new album for Chester a few years ago.

“What was she wearing?” Chester asked eagerly and Tom laughed.

“I wonder about you, are you sure you’re not gay?”

“I bet her party was better than this.” Chester muttered, ignoring Tom’s comment.

“Not really, they’ve all been a bit shit. Madonna’s hardly had anyone there compared to this place.”

“Why is it so packed?”

“No Idea, I know as much as you do.”

“We’re both screwed then.” Chester chuckled as he turned to the bar to find his coke. He took a long sip before turning back to Tom. “So where are you next?”

“Again, no idea. Hoping to go home to see the misses. She’s getting a bit pissed with all this travelling.” Tom replied rolling his eyes.

“I know the feeling.” Chester mumbled his mood darkening instantly.

“I heard you were having problems.”

“I guess everyone is talking about it.” Chester replied gloomily.

“They probably aren’t, don’t let other people get to you.” Tom advised and Chester nodded vaguely, “Look, I’ll catch up with you later ok Chester?” Tom patted Chester’s back before leaving to mingle.

Chester stared into his glass for what felt like the millionth time that evening and took a long gulp. Is this flat already? He asked himself with a grimace but took another sip nevertheless.

He looked around the room but couldn’t see the rest of the guys. His hand reached out and held onto the bar behind him.

Chester suddenly felt very hot and his vision blurred as he glanced about. He closed his eyes briefly trying to let his spinning head settle.

The vocalist finished his coke, taking an ice cube into his mouth in an effort to cool himself and walked into the crowd.

He crashed shoulders with someone and looked up dizzily into the face of the person he’d hit, but his vision was so blurred he could no longer see their features.

Chester changed direction as his mind began to panic; his legs felt so close to collapse that he almost fell against the toilet door. Too blinded by blurred lines to notice the stark light, he fell into a cubical and collapsed onto his knees in front of the toilet. His fingers gripped round the plastic seat and he let out a small whimper as he tried to compose himself. Sweat ran down his face and settled in the crack between his lips, the vocalist licked at the droplets. Letting out a cry he slumped against the toilet. It was getting worse; his mind was slipping from his body. His fingers that clung to the seat loosened, he couldn’t tighten his grip and his body drooped down and fell to the side of the toilet. He was twitching but he only knew this because his vision jerked in font of him. Chester was numb, the only feeling coming from his breath breezing over his damp lips- the sound of it screaming inside his head.

The cubical door opened and closed again; the latch sliding across to lock them both in.

The man stood over Chester watching as his small body twitched and curled round the toilet. He grabbed the numbed vocalist by the waist and lifted him onto the toilet seat cracking Chester’s cheek into the cistern who let out a squeaky unnatural growl in response.

“Shush Chester.” Came the reply as he tried to position the weak man so he was bent over the toilet. Chester’s body wouldn’t hold itself upright and kept slipping forward and with an irritating sigh. The older man grabbed onto his shoulders.

Chester was aware of two arms sliding down his own and his hands being positioned in front of him to take his weight.

Chester vaguely felt firm hands on his hips as he stared ahead, hot tears and sweat running down his face and his breath coming out in little pants; this was to be one of the only memories Chester would retain.

The young singer’s arms gave way and he fell forwards; slipping back into his position on the ground round the toilet.

“For fucks sake.” Hissed the heavily built man before he got down on his knees behind Chester and raised the smaller mans hips, bending his legs underneath his body.

Chester felt himself move, shoved further into the corner of the cubicle, his neck bending and his hand pushed up against his cheek with a finger bending into his eye. As another short shove knocked his head against the wall Chester vomited. Sick pooling round his mouth and face, but he barely realized. The only thing he was aware of was the finger and hand that obstructed his view of the toilet. He tried to gather his thoughts that constantly scattered with every thrust into the wall and he willed himself to move his finger. It wouldn’t respond. It was as if his body wasn’t his own anymore, he had no control over anything. He blinked slowly as his hand suddenly pushed further into his face and something cool caught at the corner of his eye. His wedding ring blocked all his vision now, his right cheek squashed into the floor. He blinked slowly again, his eyelid closing round the cool metal and opening again. He could still hear his shallow breath, the only sound around him. He could hear grunts coming from a distance, but couldn’t focus enough to understand where from.

His body was pulled from its less crushing position up against the wall and his hand finally fell from his face. He blinked slowly. He vomited again and his body bucked once as he choked and dislodged whatever got trapped. He blinked again noticing a single tear drop had latching it’s self between his eye lashes. He closed his eyes this time. He could feel something, a tingle, or vibration in his cheek.

Rob opened the door to the toilets and glanced in.

“Chester?” He called out seeing that it was empty except for one closed cubical. When no one replied he strolled over to the door and knocked, the door swung slightly it hit something on the other side and bounced back. “Hello?” Rob asked cautiously giving the door a gently push. He stuck his head round, “Oh fuck.” He swore loudly and pushed the door further open and slid through. “Chester!” He shouted, crouching by the toilet and shook the vocalist’s shoulder. Chester blinked open his eyes and Rob watched as they revolved around in their sockets.

“You fucking told me you wouldn’t get drunk.” Rob muttered, “Get up.” When Chester didn’t respond Rob grabbed him by his shoulders and turned him onto his back, hissing out a few obscenities and pulled Chester into a sitting position.

“You can’t even fucking sit up on your own, shit Chester you’ve thrown up everywhere.” Rob stared at the sorry sight in front of him with disappointment. “Why would you do this to yourself? You know this isn’t the answer- you fucking said it less than two hours ago.”

The vocalist made no reaction to being sick again as his stomach acid overflowed his lips and ran down his chin. Sighing angrily, Rob bent him over the toilet. He placed Chester’s hands onto the bowel and stood up, taking his phone from his pocket.

“How the hell am I gonna get you out of here without people noticing?” He muttered, glancing down at Chester as more drool fell into the bowl, and with a short shake of his head he returned to writing his message.

Chester’s eyes flickered to his fingers, willing them to grip round the bowl. They twitched and slowly clasped onto the plastic rim. He let out a squeak for his efforts and felt Rob’s presence next to him again.

“Why the fuck have you done this to me? Again?” Rob asked softly, wishing he knew what went on inside the older man’s head. Chester stared dumbly at him as Rob moved him to lean back against the cubical wall, his hands falling to his lap with his fingers still twitching to keep hold of the only control he had.

“Rob?” Came Mike’s voice as he stepped into the men’s room, Rob stuck his head around the door and indicated for him to come in. “You know I stopped joining men in toilets when I got married.” Mike joked before he saw Chester slumped on the floor; staring straight ahead of him.

“He’s drunk out of his mind; I think he’s been unconscious too.” Rob sighed as they both stared at him.

“He looks a mess.” Mike replied.

“We have to get him out of here.”

“How? He’s thrown up all over himself. Jesus Chester!” Mike yelled as Chester began to drool again.

“Ok, we just gotta get him out of here.” Rob mumbled to himself, thinking quickly. He pulled the dark blue shirt off his own shoulders, leaving him with just a tee shirt on and pulled Chester’s body towards him; lifting each arm to put through the sleeves. Mike grabbed some toilet roll and began to wipe Chester’s face down, walking off to the sink to damp the towel before roughly dragging it over the older mans face in an effort to make him look more normal.

“Give him your cap.”

“What?”

“Mike, just put your damn cap on his head.” Rob snapped. He really wasn’t in the mood for any bullshit, his temper slowly reaching boiling point as Chester’s head rolled back and he gurgled. Mike reluctantly took off his cap and put it on Chester’s head, shading his eyes.

“Right Chester, I need you to stand up ok?” Rob barked at Chester, grabbing his cheeks between his fingers and forcing Chester to look at him. “OK?” He asked and Chester found himself nodding. Rob pulled Chester up, but the vocalist couldn’t hold his own weight and Rob had to hold him against the wall.

“We can’t carry him out.” Mike told Rob.

“Chester- stand up.” Rob yelled at Chester slowly, “Come on Chester! STAND ON YOUR OWN.” Chester flinched and Rob roughly pulled him from the cubical. The drummer held the vocalist around the waist, jerking his body as his knees gave way. “Chester, please. Ok? Please. We need to get out of here. If people see you and this gets out think what Sam will say. Think of Sam ok?” Rob tried to reason with Chester who nodded vaguely, his wife’s name the only familiar word in the sentence. He stared at his feet and placed them flat on the floor, the soft thud of his sole resonating through him.

“Ok, I’ll lead you two through the crowd. If anyone asks just say that Chester has got a stomach bug or something.” Mike spoke quickly before opening the door and leading them out. Sound and vibration startled Chester and his blurred vision glanced about as he was dragged along.

It was easier than Rob thought; they successfully made it though the crowd avoiding most people. Luckily Rob had been right, a band was going to play and their set had just started so all eyes were on them. They made it to the street and Mike turned around to look at them.

“He’s drooled all down your shirt.” He stated and saw Rob grit his teeth, “Want me to hold him for a bit?” Rob half flung Chester at Mike before storming off down the street, “Hey- Rob- wait up!” Mike called out trying to shift Chester whose feet continually moved about, trying to find balance.

“Hurry up.” Rob barked, turning around and placing his hands on his hips.

“Hold on, he’s like fucking Bambi.”

“Huh?”

“You know… Bambi…. With the standing… all wobbly... No? Never mind.” Mike muttered and turned his attention back to Chester who let out a whimper and began crying. He was so confused, pain was beginning to scream from his body but he was still too jumbled to figure out where; he could feel his legs but they were like jelly and wouldn’t stand flat on the ground. He wanted to stop moving, to slump down on the ground and cry on Mike. He didn’t understand why they were torturing them.

“Can you hold his weight?” Rob asked as he watched Mike struggle with a fidgety Chester.

“No problem.” Mike muttered, concentrating on holding onto Chester but it was too late, the older mans leg collapsed and he slipped through Mike’s hands. “Fuck.”

“My shirt!” Rob wailed as he stood over Chester lying on the wet ground. “I can not fucking believe this.” He muttered, bending down and pulling Chester up to look at him.

“I- Mmmmm.” Chester mumbled his mind screaming the words his mouth couldn’t say.

“I what? There isn’t anything you can fucking say to make this ok Chester.” Rob snapped, dragging the weaker man back up and held him steady.

“He’s sobering up a bit.” Mike spoke after a few minutes as they walked along the street in silence.

“Right.” Rob replied sharply, his eyes staring ahead.

“I …. Didn’t want it.” Chester suddenly cried out, shaking in Rob’s grip.

“Yeah... whatever.”

“Didn’t want what?” Mike asked, bending to look at Chester who still had tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I didn’t want it.” Chester repeated shaking his head, trying to make sense of his own words.

“Yeah… I’m sure you turned down all the drinks and free shots.” Rob spat, tightening his grip on the weak singer. He pulled Chester up and tried to look casual as they walked up to the front of the hotel; a doorman looking curiously at them as he opened the glass door.

In the lift Chester gypped as it lurched up and Rob grabbed his chin, lifting it so Chester didn’t throw up everywhere.

“I’ll find his key.” Mike offered, patting down Chester’s pockets and pulled out his key card. He swiped it through the lock and held the door open for Rob and Chester to move through. Rob threw Chester on the bed and as he bounced on the soft bed spread he threw up again. Rob shook his head in disbelief and Mike quickly intervened, almost seeing the steam billow out of the young drummer’s ears.

“Hey, come on Chester- lets get you to bathroom.” Mike sighed, tugging Chester off the bed who fell onto his hands and knees. He dazedly crawled to the bathroom and curled up by the toilet.

“He’s shivering.” Mike told Rob as he re entered the bedroom. He pulled the bedspread off the bed and rolled it up into a ball; tossing it into the corner of the room.

“I don’t fucking care.” Rob spat.

“Rob, you don’t mean that.” Mike spoke gently as he opened the wardrobe to pull out a blanket that hotels always had on the top shelf.

“Why am I always the one that clears him up?”

“Well, I’m doing it now.”

“You shouldn’t have too! He’s a grown fucking man- he’s the oldest for Christ’s sake.”

“I know Rob, but it’s Chester- you know what he’s like. And he’s having a tough time at the moment.”

“He promised me. He promised he wouldn’t do this.” Rob spat bitterly. Mike looked at him for a moment before going back into the bathroom. He slowly peeled the wet clothes from Chester’s body, leaving him in nothing but his underwear. He quickly wrapped a blanket around Chester and bent down to check he was breathing fine, scrunching his nose up as the muck that covered Chester’ face. He grabbed a cup by the sink, filled it with water and placed it by Chester who was either unconscious or falling asleep. Mike heard the door slam closed and realized that Rob had stormed out. He stared at Chester for a good five minutes before picking up the key card to the room and leaving to find Rob.

Chester woke up to darkness, shivering against the cold floor. He sat up and the blanket fell from his thin form. It was too dark to see so he pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He couldn’t tell where he was, silence bounced off the porcelain toilet seat that glinted at him from a light somewhere. He turned round slowly as his eyes adjusted to his surroundings and it slowly sunk in where he was. He stared ahead of him for a long time, not really thinking and only aware that he was blinking. He closed his eyes and two tear drops fell. He dragged his blunt finger nails along his bear arms and released a loud cry. He held his hands out from his body feeling disgusted, his carcass didn’t feel like his own anymore, layers of dirt clung to his skin and he felt contaminated.

It was all just a feeling. His mind was blank from the night’s events. He knew someone must have brought him back to his hotel and he had a vague recollection of Rob screaming at him… being in the bar and chatting to Tom. And something in between.

“I didn’t want too.” He breathed out, the words reverberating around his mind. He crawled to the door of the bathroom and looked out into the bed room, hugging the door frame and crying harder when he saw no one to save him.

He couldn’t explain the way the sensations that coursed through him, he had no memory of anything only the way his body felt. His panicking mind tried to convince himself that he had over reacted; that he was a melodramatic idiot and he just got wasted. It was a subconscious thing. His mind was tricking his body into feeling like this. That had to be it. It had to be. Chester needed it to be.

His fingers went back to clawing at his skin, wishing he could peel away to the bone. He reached up for the light switch before falling back to the floor, his bare legs slapping against the white tiles. He inspected his hand almost gypping at the sight of mud and unexplainable dirt living under his nails and the cracks of his skin. It carried on up his arm and he sobbed loudly as he felt the dirt and scum in his hair and caked onto his face.

His fingers gripped onto the side of the sink and he pulled himself up in front of the mirror, horrified at his appearance. Eye’s blood shot, red and swollen; the pupil’s barely visible; dirt and dried sick covered his cheeks, hair and ears. He touched the mirror in front of him, blinking as he stared into his own eyes, searching them as he leant in closer so his nose almost touched.

He turned to the shower, pulling the curtain round and switching it on. He worked in slow motion as he took his boxers off and stepped out of them. He climbed carefully into the shower as the hot water hit. He turned it up until steam hazed his vision, it was sweet relief and he sunk to the bath tub and wrapped his arms round his legs feeling comfort as the almost scalding water bounced heavily off his back and ran down his face; mixing with his falling tears. He didn’t move as water ran into his eyes, refusing to swipe away the irritation. Instead he watched as the dirtied water run down the drain and desperately tried to understand what he was feeling.

It didn’t happen… it didn’t… what didn’t happen?

His hand instinctively reached behind him and between his ass cheeks, his finger gently probed the swollen flesh and let out a gasp as he touched the tender area. He removed his hands and hugged his knees tighter as his chest wracked painfully with cries that echoed weakly around the porcelain tub.

He craned his neck to look up towards the head of the shower, his eyes closed. The hot water beat down on his face washing away the muck that lay under the skin. He suddenly felt too exhausted to cope with it all. He closed off his own thoughts and wearily climbed to his feet to begin the monotonous activity of washing himself.

After the shower he slid on the hotels crisp white toweling dressing gown that almost felt too white against his pinkish skin. He roughly rubbed his hair with a towel before wandering back into the bedroom, not bothering to turn off the bathroom light and let it cast a comforting light into the dark room. Chester crawled onto the bed and under the thin sheet, his head hitting the pillow and his eyes closing.

“Chester.” Mike spoke softly as he opened the door and walked into the vocalist’s bedroom. The light from the bathroom illuminated the lump under the covers that had to be Chester. He leaned over the bed and gently shook his shoulder. Chester groaned out and rolled onto his back. “Chaz, are you ok?” Mike asked and received a low growl in response. “Well it’s eight in the morning Chaz; we have to get back on the road in an hour.” Mike stood back up and walked round the bed to the window where he threw back the curtains, allowing light to fill the room. Chester emitted a whimper as he covered his eyes.

“How did it get to eight?” He murmured as disjointed memories rushed back to him and his body stiffened.

“Have you got hangover?” Mike sat on the far corner of the bed and watched as Chester pulled the cover up to his chin, looking at him like a meek child.

“No, I feel fine.” Chester told him, almost truthfully.

“Erm… last night you kept saying ‘I didn’t want too’. Didn’t want to what?” Mike asked, sensing something different about Chester.

“I don’t know. I was probably talking rubbish. I was so wasted.” Chester replied shortly, his eyes averting away from Mike’s. He wished the emcee would just leave him alone. He wanted to be alone, to think.

“Ok. Well Rob is pretty pissed. The others aren’t too happy. This thing has gotta stop Chaz.”

“I know.” Chester replied weakly, biting his lip as it trembled and tears threatened.

“Well I’m not gonna have a go at you, I know your going through some tough shit Chaz.” Mike stood up at he spoke, he tried to catch Chester’s eye but the older man refused to look at him. Something told Mike to stay out of it; he could tell that Chester felt ashamed of what he’d done. “I’ll leave it to Rob to yell at you.” Mike joked and watched as Chester nodded and a tear escaped and slipped down his cheek, “Hey! Hey, c’mon now.” Mike moved round the bed and sat in front of Chester, he placed his hand on his friends shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to piss everyone off.” Chester breathed off desperately, trying to stem the flow of tears that fell down his pale cheeks.

“We know this is difficult for you Chaz and we care about you. We don’t like seeing you like this. This just isn’t the way to deal with your feelings.” Mike advised in a gentle voice and Chester nodded like a child.

“Thanks,” He offered Mike a weak smile, “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Haven’t you already had one?” Mike asked as he pointed to the white cotton robe Chester still had on.

“I need something to wake me up.”

“Ok, well I’ll see you downstairs at nine.” Mike finished and left Chester alone.

The young vocalist moved to sit up and sighed heavily as his joints screamed at him.

In the bathroom he discarded his robe and inspected his body; bruises had appeared during the night along his arm and knees. His cheek held a sore red mark and as he prodded it he wished he could remember how it happened, or maybe it was better that he couldn’t remember. He turned the shower on and climbed in, wishing the hot water would just burn away his skin.

Chester chose his clothes carefully; he found another sore spot on his hip so he wore comfortable loose pants, a hoodie, and a cap. He put on his sunglasses to hide his tired red eyes and picked up his rucksack. He stood in front of the mirror for a few moments, barely recognizing the man that stared back, before leaving his hotel room behind and making the journey down to the lobby where his band mates would be waiting. His legs felt like lead and he prayed that they would leave him alone, he wasn’t sure he could handle it if they ganged up and yelled at him. The elevator pinged and the door opened. There they were. They all looked up as he approached them, his eyes staring at the floor in front of him.

“Ready?” Brad asked curtly and Chester immediately felt the tension he had created just by being there. He nodded at Brad and they filed out of the hotel and onto the bus.

“Chester.” Rob suddenly turned round to glare at the vocalist who was the last to step onto the bus.

“Don’t Rob…” Chester sighed out.

“Yeah… I guess your right- I mean why the fuck should I waste my breath when you never listen anyway?” Rob spat and Chester flinched at Rob’s words.

“I’m sorry.” Chester whispered and Rob scoffed at him.

“You’re always sorry Chester. The word is meaningless when it comes out of your mouth.”

“Rob…” Mike warned from behind him and Rob turned to look at him.

“What? I’m just saying what we’re all feeling. I’m fucking sick of carrying him. He needs to grow up.” Rob stormed past the rest of the guys to the back room and slammed the door. The rest of the guys stood awkwardly around the kitchen area. Chester finally pushed past them, dumping his rucksack on the table and rushing off to the toilet. The lock clicked and he pulled off his cap, leaning his forehead against the cool polished wood of the door. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He put the lid down on the toilet and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.

He didn’t know how to handle this; he didn’t know what he was handling. Chester balled his hands into fists and let out a frustrating cry. He wracked his brain for some kind of memory. Scrunching up his eyes he saw a fuzzy toilet that swayed back and forth and had a vague memory of someone holding his hips from behind, that was it. Why did his body feel so sure that it had been… violated? Had he created that feeling himself? He had no evidence, not even a memory to back up what had happened.

Chester straightened up and almost laughed at himself. He spent so many years wishing his memories would just die, that he could forget and now, here he was- desperate for a memory of something that may or may not have happened.

But I was….. I was…. I’m so sure I was raped.

He didn’t know why he was so sure it had happened and he knew for a fact that he couldn’t tell anyone. What could he possibly say?

Chester knew that this was something he would just have to get over. He had to focus of different things, forget about last night. He just got drunk and passed out in the toilet. He wasn’t going to let this bother him. He wasn’t. He had to work on his marriage. He had to work on proving to the band that he wasn’t a pathetic messed up bastard.

He had to forget the memories he didn’t have.

Chester stood up in front of the mirror.

“Nothing happened.” He told himself, staring defiantly into his own eyes.

Chester turned, opened the door and walked up to the back room where he intended on apologizing to Rob.

This is a standalone.