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As the first bottle crashes beside his feet he knows that they are screwed. He is. Mostly just he. The way Lee looks at him begs him to not start anything but this is really just the last drop. He does not care. After all the sleepless nights in panic, he only sees the roaring crowd. And from there the ones that want him gone. Just him, he thinks. Not the band. But him.
Another bottle hits Jona’s foot and he has enough. It’s absolutely ridiculous that they have to go through this again. Again another bottle, just merely missing his head and he backs away. If they can't see him maybe they won't hit him. On the edge he wonders should he leave the stage altogether, but Matt behind the drums looks at him sternly, forcing him to freeze still.
Just as Vegan joins Oli in front of the stage and grabs his arm he steps further, to the edge. The barricade is so close and the crowd is so terribly loud. Green lights sweep over them, making them bath in the surreal shimmer. He tilts his head and focuses on that one person that seems to be loudest. Angriest. He must imagine it. Not possible he could actually pinpoint one person's voice. Another bottle is thrown and he hears yelling behind him. Vegan is still holding him, now tossing the bass aside. Oli knows he shouldn’t. It’s stupid. But it’s also what he desires now. The roaring is deafening. But that is inviting him. Something in his head speaking in tongues he has never heard before.
And before Vegan can stop him he makes the decision and goes down. Seconds off riot follow and he knows that they are yelling him to come back. Too late. He is already at the barricade. Drunken people and the blind rage hit his face like a freight train. A bottle flies past him to the stage and just as he gets in eye contact with that one guy someone grabs him. And then it's too late. Another pair of hands on his thin arm and he doesn't know do they even belong to the same person. He is pulled to the crowd and a few seconds later he sees nothing but a mass of people spinning around him.
There. Maybe he gives now everything. Everything they want. Flesh and blood. Down to the bones. Maybe them too. Until there is nothing left. Because that's what they want.
Oli smells the anger. It fills his nostrils and he inhales deeply. Like a drug it travels in his veins, burning as it intoxicates him. It's warm and inviting.
The hands are on his thin body. Grabbing, clawing. Pulling his clothes and marking his skin with the sticky fingertips.
Leave the bones exposed, rip me apart.
More hands. More pulling and grabbing. Oli realizes he isn’t standing on his own feet anymore. Floating, or sinking. So low. He had never been so low. And it was as it is supposed to be. The hands that are clawing him felt like home. Like a home he never knew he needed but in secret craved. Pulling to their embrace and tearing him apart. Someone grabs his hair so hard that he gasps from pain. But it’s good. The pain takes away the other pain. As it should.
The screaming around him immerses him. Someone on the stage is screaming too, but he can't see who. The voices are loud. So loud. High pitched, piercing his ears.
He feels like being consumed by the hands. And the darkness. It holds him in a tight grip. Choking. His head is spinning and he feels nauseous. Was it because he was being tossed around like a ragdoll or because the oxygen seemed to disappear from his lungs?
Someone rips his shirt. Another one tries to pull a pair of hands off of him. A third one yanks his hair. A voice tells someone to let him go and another one laughs and curses. He doesn't care. It's all just cacophony.
Die. Just die. That's all you know.
Choking. He is still choking. And there are no hands around his throat. The hands are on his clothes and skin. Fabric ripping and skin tearing. Is it tearing? Or is he imagining it? But it feels absolutely lovely. So lovely.
And still, the choking feeling is there. It must be the noises then. The loud, shrill noises. Words so loud that the letters fuse together until there is only a mess behind. Cluttered letters that form cluttered words that lead to more consuming confusion. Deep and squeezing, on his throat. Not his words, but still on in his throat.
Someone claws his back. Not just hard, but deep enough to bleed. He throws his head back, smiling. He is falling, everything caving in. Deeper and further. The lights look so pretty and he is mesmerized. Then he realizes that he is almost on the floor. Some holding him, but maybe he is floating now? The people around him are like a sea of waves, trashing him around. On one second he sees Matt on the stage apparently trying to spot him and the next moment he is facing the floor.
His hand is being stepped on and he thinks he heard the bones breaking. The pain shot through him, burning on his nerve ends. Such an intoxicating feeling and he gasps. Drawing air in again he feels it burning too. How can oxygen burn? It's scalding, squeezing his lungs now.
Is he in delirium or just losing it finally? Because the hands won’t stop and he doesn’t want them to. It’s dismantling.
The people are still trashing him around. Still the pulling and yanking. More pain, more torment. The affliction is so pure and beautiful and maybe he hears himself breaking down into millions of pieces.
He should fight. He should try to get on his feet and wave so the security could see him. But the feeling is enthralling. It’s burying him under. Gasping for air he wonders how long will it last.
Is he really being torn apart? He should be. That would be how it is supposed to be. They would finally take what they want. He is a burden anyway. Only full of nonsense words bleeding into meaningless lyrics. They want more and it will never be enough. He knows that. And he doesn’t care. Finally, it would be the end.
Just take it all. Everything I have.
His eyes catch the green lights again as the crowd moves around, parting around him. Lying there on the floor he is sad it is over. Eyes hazy he realises that he had been crying. Is crying. He still is crying but it’s more just tears flowing from his eyes without him able to stop it.
“Back away!” the security yells next to him and then he is picked up like a rag doll again. This time to the supposed safety.
“What the hell happened?” Lee croaks as he is carried to the side of the stage and the guard puts him back on the ground.
His ears are ringing and he barely hears the words. Doesn’t care. He certainly doesn’t care because he wasn’t supposed to be here anymore.
“I told him not to go there but he didn’t listen. Oi! Oli!” Matt snaps his fingers in front of his face. “Fuckin’ idiot.”
“Give it a rest”, Vegan mumbles and crouches down in front of Oli. He knows the drummer is just worried. Which they all are as Oli is just sitting there unresponsive.
He can see there is blood but not where it comes from. The shirt that had been white is spotted with crimson red stains and only barely hanging around Oli's waist from a thin strip. His face has bruises but what made Vegan more worried was that Oli still says nothing. Like he had sunken into some space, to a catatonic state. And the tears. Oli isn't crying, but his face is wet from the tears.
"I don't... Like, we need a medic. Or an ambulance. Or something", he gasps and looks up to the others who stare back just as confused.
It's not giving up if you let the others do it.
"Where is the blood even coming? You can't see shit from under all that..." Matt waves his hand in the air.
"Either way we need to go", Vegan mumbles glancing at the rioting crowd and yanks Oli to his feet.
The other gasps and leans onto him but doesn't fight. He is too tired to fight. Disappointed. He can still smell the anger that is reeking from the audience and together with the loud noises it's drawing him in. Pleading to come back. He should be there. Letting them take it all.
On the backstage, he is placed on the black leather couch while the others seem lost. Just as lost as he, just in a different way. Matt and Lee fight over where to call. Jona stands in the corner, quiet and reluctant. And the bassist doesn't leave him alone.
"It never ends. It's always there. Just... let me go. There is no peace when it's inside", he chants the words barely audibly and Vegan tries to ignore them. Too much to handle at once.
"Hey, we need to find out where you are bleeding. We need to patch you up."
Oli tears his eyes away from the wall he had been staring and turns them to his friend. The words mean nothing, but it isn't a new thing. His words mean nothing. They never did.
"You can't", he whispers.
"Huh?" Vegan frowns and even Matt turns to look at them.
"There's no patching me up."
Those words come out from Oli's mouth too but they all stare back at him in disbelief. And as he stands up they are even more confused.
"Oi! You are still bleeding!" Matt yells behind him as he walks to the door.
"I'm already dead so what's the fucking point", he mumbles but the words hit so hard that every one of them hears them loud and clear.
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