Recap: Veronica can’t even sneak five minutes to herself without chaos crashing in. Meanwhile, here’s another track from Zack — less swagger, more scar tissue.
New here? catch up with the Chapter Index.
Zack
I hadn’t seen Murray in almost two years.
He looked older. Greyer at the temples. Same long spine and slow blink, like he was still keeping time in his bones.
Bass players always move half a beat behind the rest of the world. That’s their job – anchor the chaos without getting sucked into it.
He hugged me like he meant it. Proper hug. No polite bullshit. No “you got this, bro” energy. Just arms locked tight and a quiet “about fucking time.”
Murray was our bassist in Midnight Ashes.
Back when we were loud and brilliant and godlike.
Back when I thought gravity didn’t apply to me.
He used to say I pissed lightning and bled hooks.
Used to look at me like I was the second coming of rock and roll – and I let him.
I let everyone believe the mythology, because it was easier than admitting I was making it up as I went, fuelled by ego and whatever I could score backstage.
And still… even now, after everything, he looked at me like I wasn’t a complete fucking waste.
He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “You want me to tell Jasmine you’re here?”
I paused. Blinked. Swallowed what was left of my dignity. Nodded.
“You sure?” he asked.
No. Not even a little bit.
But I nodded anyway.
He gave me a look – not pity, not doubt. Just this weird, quiet pride, like he was seeing some flicker of the man I used to be. “I’ll pass it on,” he said. “And hey… proud of you, man. You’re doing the work.”
Then he left.
And I sat on the edge of my bed like I’d just pulled the pin out of a grenade and swallowed it.
I haven’t been able to sit still since.
Tried breathing exercises.
Tried journaling.
Tried pacing the piss-yellow linoleum like a Shakespearean junkie auditioning for So You Think You Can Spiral?
Nothing helps.
She’s going to hear my name and think, fuck no.
She’s going to remember every version of me that made her bleed and called it love.
And honestly? Fair enough.
But some stupid, raw, human part of me still wants to be seen by her. Just once.
Just long enough for her to look at me and not flinch.
She doesn’t owe me anything.
Not closure. Not kindness. Not a goddamn glance.
But I need her to know I’m trying.
Not to fix what I broke. Not to crawl back into her life like some washed-up phoenix. Just to be someone she could stand in a room with.
Without wanting to run.
That was Zack’s noise. Now let’s see what happens when Veronica finally makes some of her own [Chapter 6 link]