Martin was sleeping on the couch in his studio, he was fully clothed. He put a black silk pillow over his head; he crossed his legs and embraced himself with his arms. Andy was walking through the studio with the camera and filming something about the new album recording that should be released in 2005 for the official site of Depeche Mode.
- Hush, Martin is sleeping, - Fletch said to Dave entering the studio. He turned off the camera and put it on the table.
Dave was heartedly touched by the view before his eyes; he set down onto Martin's couch, despite Fetch's annoying mumblings, he put his one leg on the other and rested his elbow on Martin's hip.
- Sleeping, like a little bunny, - he grinned.
- Huh? - Asked little bunny having a hoarse bass.
- Hey, we were like talking with Kessler, while you were sleeping, and he kinda talked to Miller, anyway they are highly recommended, so Fletch and me haven't see any reason to turn them down, so we are going on Tour this Fall.
- Oh, no, - Martin said, trying to hide his head under the pillow. Fletch moved his chair closer to them and set down, coupling his hands on his belly.
- Why?
- Dave, I am sure, you just want kill me, - Martin established the fact.
Dave started thinking about Martin words quite seriously. Some time he was just sitting there and rocking his leg, meditatively.
- Well, Mart, - finally he said, - you know…I….I can't tell you that I never ever dreamed about that. No. No-no-no. I think nevertheless, no. Otherwise I'd already found a way, admit it, am I right?
- Yes, you are right, - Martin nodded, - Listen, I am old and I am sick what am I going to do there?
- Okay, - cheerfully answered Dave, - So let young and healthy will go to the tour. Me and Fletch.
They laughed altogether.
- Martin, - Fletch droned, - C'mon, stop it, it's not the first time that you are married to someone.
They laughed again.
- You are right, - Martin said, - okay, deal. We should go. A six-pack of Vodka every day and this Girl is yours.
- Asshole, - said Dave and slapped his hip.
- Mart, I'd say you have enough of that, - Fletch nodded.
- I can't not to drink, - Martin said, - I've got nerves.
- When you are drinking, everybody around have got nerves, - Dave said, - So for the little rest of the humanity, that still live inside you, you'd better compromised it somehow. O, I know. Let's put it that way…Okay you can drink to the amusement, be dead drunk, blind drunk, roaring drunk and drunk as a lord. But no frequently then once in a week.
- Thrice! - Martin said indignant.
- Two days and that's enough! - answered Dave.
- That's fair, - Fletch nodded.
- Fiends, - Martin said, - hangmen, satraps and Herods too.
- Why are you sleeping here, Mart? - Incidentally asked Dave, staring at the tip toe of his red sport shoes intently.
Martin sighed and propped himself with his elbow:
- Captain Boisvert entrenched himself at my home, - he smirked, making Dave laugh, because it was the first time when Martin called her in Dave's manner, - I am feeling nice here. I got used to.
- Martin, - Dave's face became serious. Probably too serious, - you know, there is a giant bed in my hotel apartment.
- Thank you, David, you are my only true friend, - Martin smiled broadly and tapped Dave's hand.
- Yes, I am, - said Dave, - The true friend never grudge anything for his friends. He's ready to share the last thing he has, he's ready to share his last shirt, and his last piece of bread, you know, he's ready to share everything with his friend. Let alone some miserable bed…Martin, what did I say that special, that there is a tears in your eyes from laughter?
Martin shook his head.
- Please, don't bother, David, - he said, - I think, probably I will move next week, my agent already found me a nice place not too far from here, about three miles down by the road. That's nice, so it would be easier to see my children. Let me stand up?
- Oh yeah? - Asked Dave, he was standing now too, and he was stroking his navel thoughtfully, - That's good. That's very good, Martin, because you know, Martin, I actually fucked up to the death to live in some hotels, you see, how much longer I might live at hotels? Fletch, tell him.
Fletch nodded silently.
Martin froze.
Fletch spend a year in monastery. He told nothing about it, and explained nothing too; he told it was just needed.
Martin stood, resting his forehead against the window, gazing at the slanting lines of winter rain, it soon should be spring but it seemed that it will never come. What ever he'd talk about it, he remembered that day completely. It was just an ordinary plain and gray day. He came to the studio by metro. There were gloomy Kessler at the studio, and Miller, and Alan's representative who officially announced Alan's departure from the band.
- I'd say, we expected that, - gloomily said Jonathan.
- We could expect that, - Miller added, - but I'd say we believed that it wouldn't… - Daniel stopped abruptly, he decided to say nothing more.
Martin nodded. He felt like his jaws were paralyzed.
- However, I believe that this important and unpleasant Mister Wilder's decision wouldn't affect existing of the Depeche Mode project.
- Wouldn't affect WHAT? - Martin opened his mouth in surprise.
- Despite the fact that we assembled here in somewhat limited staff, - Kessler said and rubbed his moustaches, - I think we can make some prior arrangements about the several specialists, incorporating in our work. I talked to Tim and, theoretically he is ready to collaborate with us. Martin, you know Tim.
Martin nodded.
- Collaborate? - He hoarse, - why?
- Temporary, until you find another musician to replace Mister Wilder, for the new album?
- I don't think we will search someone, - Martin said, - Excuse me?
- Your new album.
Martin looked at one side then at another, like he was searching someone.
- Ours? Where are we?
Daniel made a false laugh.
- I hope we could communicate with David soon and I know that Andrew, despite his personal problems, is sane enough to…
Martin looked at him, but couldn't hear him at all. He saw Daniel's lips were moving, perhaps his own face was able to hold an adequate expression of interest and attention, because Daniel was still proving him something enthusiastically, and it seemed, he was rather satisfied with his paralyzed face as an answer. But Martin couldn't hear him at all, there was thunder in his ears, then the thunder has gone, and the space around him was pressed with the fluffy clouds, there was silence and it seemed for him that he was looking at everything from the distance, like he was far away from here, or like he was watching it by the TV. He felt his consciousness was slowly slipping away, shutting down his senses, one then another. Kessler handed him a glass full of bourbon and this ordinary feeling of the heavy cold glass in his palm abruptly stopped his falling into unconsciousness.
- Th-thank you, - he said, draining his glass with one gulp.
***
Soon Martin got into the hospital, because of his soporifics addiction, so it seemed that that was not the only medications what was bothered him, and mostly Susanne. So she insisted, with the help of the doctors that Martin has a free choice to spend some time in rehabilitation center, or with the police. Susanne told him, if she was in his place she'd choose clinic, Martin said that he doesn't give a shit, and the choice is hers, although he was sure that it was Susanne's idea to press him that way.
Next several months he courageously smelled the flowers in some elite clinic under the fake name. He refused to make any friends there. He had a strong allergic reaction on people in general, the one and only exception was old drunkard, someone's granddad. He was undergoing treatment there for fifteenth time or so. Old man has his own security, bringing them alcohol from time to time. Granddad stood in deep marasmus for a long time actually in everything, except ways how to find what to drink. He strongly believed that he will die immediately if he lasts more then one day without a bottle. His relatives thought otherwise, so that's became a problem.
Old man and Martin often were just sitting under the big oak in silence; sometimes Martin was talking about his life, granddad didn't understand a word, though it was even better for Martin. And it was MUCH better then sitting in the middle of the room, suffering the group therapy and talking to other bastards how he has started to live like that.
- My name is Pam, - said nervous pimply maid, standing up and pulling his variegated dress, - I am taking drugs from thirteen. My stepfather was very cruel man, and he treats me and my mom very bad, mom was drinking hard, - she snuffled, - I wanted to run away, and I ran. We started to live with my boyfriend, but we had no money, absolutely no money, so I started to earn my living, being a prostitute…
- I am Robert, - droned big guy from the left, - kinda my friends gave me the dope…
- Julia, - stood woman, sitting right beside him, - if we are talking honestly, I will tell you my long and sad story.
Martin listened her heart-wrenching unhappy story about love; he almost missed his turn to speak. The group was looking at him impatiently, he stood up, gazing nowhere.
- I am Martin, and I… - he rubbed his nose and though, what exactly he was about to say? My life-work shattered in pieces, I lost everything and everyone. And it seems that it all was my entire fault, but it is useless to think about it, because there are things that can't be repaired. I've lost a person who was closer to me then anyone in this life. How many details should I say about that I am bleeding when he's near, because he's hurting me but I am suffering in agony, when he's not? I want to break free from it. I can't breathe, I just can't breathe, it is harder then any physical pain, I need a place to go from this pain and I don't give a shit, if it will be drugs, or alcohol, or whores, or Alaska folk songs, - I don't know what to say, - when several long minutes left he said, - Theoretically,…I am like…probably….I think I should be fine…uhm…it's just, I think I took cocaine and…no?...you say I shouldn't do that?
The Group gazed at him with deep rooted hate.
To remain sane Martin made several attempts to shag pretty young girl-psychologist just from the University. Her round appetizing butt prominent despite the shapeless clinic uniform was hurting his most tender feelings under the waistline of his pants more and more each day. Actually he was going to psychological trainings only to meet her pretty ass again. Psychology as a science gave a birth to a deep skepticism in him. He already saw one psychologist before.
Miller and Kessler were seriously worrying about band's psychological crisis and they hired a specialist and sent him with them into the Devotional tour. They ignored this bastard, all four of them, they even refused to say Hello and for a long time their psychologist was obliged to solve psychological problems of the stage workers, but once they recalled him.
Accidentally, after a big dope and right before the show Dave was yelling at psychologist, something like hey, you, cunt, bring me some beer, because he actually confused him with his personal assistant. Psychologist started to explain that it is not his responsibility to bring Dave beer, his duty was to solve their psychological problems and he explained it so long and boring, they all became mad at him. Martin was rather boiled and not in the mood, so he bent him over some box at the corridor, showing his serious intention to rape him, he motivated his own behavior with the fact that he is having his psychological problems indeed, and he need to solve them right now. Alan laughed that hard, there were tears in his eyes, already driven mad Fletch squeaked and pull the drum over Alan's head.
The Psychologist retired that day, with the words:
- You all are very sick. You need a medical treatment.
But Martin's plans about girl's ass haven't been destined to be put into practice. The best side of it was the fact that he left the clinic.
Along with some other reasons this fact pushed him somehow to legitimate their relationships with Susanne. Their child was growing up, and Susanne was so sweet in white laces of the bride, Martin even dreamed for one second that everything is not that bad.
In the end now he has a family. He is a husband and a father. In some paradoxical way, civic cliches made by the Society he despised before worked as an anti-stress factor for him delivering him from painful reflections about the meaning of his existence. He clutched these cliches with unbelievable passion, even Susanne was surprised.
Dave came to London twice. He desperately wanted to talk to Martin alone not in the studio or home, it was very important for him. He stood and waited, he thought, about three hours or something, but Martin didn't come. Dave started worrying, he called to his home and Susanne picked up the receiver. He refused to talk to her, he just hang up. Her voice was calm and tranquil; it means that nothing had happened. Nothing had happened to her, absolutely nothing. He just didn't come. Probably he though it was beneath his dignity to talk to Dave. Dave was going down by the streets, wiping the snow from his cheeks, not feeling his own tears underneath the snowflakes.
He was reading a magazine with the last Martin's interview in the plane.
- We haven't talked to our front-man for several weeks... - he laughed out loud, scaring his neighbors, - oh…oh, my,…I can't take it, I just can't take it anymore, - he was waving his hands and insisted that the stewardess should bring him some whiskey.
So, that's who am I to you now, Mister Martin Lee Gore. I am a front-man to you. Dave choked with whiskey, you son of a bitch, so we are no more then colleagues, huh? How sweet, I am ready to piss on my pants, I bet.
- Could you please give me a pen? - A sit near was empty, so Dave asked fat burgher in the opposite line of sits, he mumbled something, but handed Dave a pen.
Dave stuck out his tongue, enthusiastically drawing rather stylish half-rounded horns to Martin's head then he moved a magazine away to admire his work. He giggled and continued his art; he was drawing a tip of a pointed tail near Martin's hand on the picture.
- Thank you very much, you are too kind, - he said, bringing a pen back to burgher, - you wanna know why did I need it? - He giggled, not paying much attention to burgher's awareness, he opened a magazine, - Do you see the Man? - He laughed, - He's not a man, he is Devil Incarnate. Yeapp, I swear, if you will see him somewhere, you'll know there he is, Satan. You know…you kinda watch your wife and children too, yeah, spell it with me Sa-tan.
The burgher tried to push a button to call a stewardess, Dave waved his hands in protest.
- No-no, don't be afraid, I didn't mean to disturb you, - he straightened in his chair.
His fingers were stroking Martin's face on glossy surface of magazine page. Martin was gazing at him from the picture sad and defenseless and looking so easily to hurt like an angel. He looked the way, you wanted to hug him and kiss him, comfort him, and take him under your wing.
- Come here, my baby, kiss your daddy, - he leaned back in his chair and loudly kissed the photo, and soon fell into deep slumber, not taking off the magazine from his face.
He didn't see sweating burgher with reddened face, and he didn't give a damn about him no more.
***
Miller talked to Martin almost every day.
- Can't you see what happening with him? Call him, talk to him.
- Uh…should I?
- I… am… sorry? - Miller gasped for breath.
- How…do…you….think…I…can…help him? - Martin tried to unclench his own teeth while saying that.
- I don't know, probably you can tell him where is he moving at!
- Who am I to judge him?
- You'd better forget this expression now, son.
Kessler was talking to Dave by the phone, while the meeting was begun.
- Yeah…right, yeah. We already have some new material, and we discussed it with Tim, everything will be just peachy I swear. I have no idea, what the fuck are you doing there, but not here?
Dave lit his cigarette from the candle; he heard Martin's laughter there, on the other side of the ocean. It seemed like a big ice rock burst inside his stomach.
- Mart, - he hoarse.
- Martin, Dave is asking you, - said Kessler.
Dave dropped the cigarette onto the floor, counting seconds and steps and his heart beatings, he wasn't sure if he'd come. He was there. Shit.
- Yes, Dave? - His voice was even colder then the ice rock, Dave didn't even recognize him at first.
- Mart, - his voice broke absolutely.
- Dave, are you all right? -His courteousness felt rather arrogant and Dave felt rage piercing him through and giving him strength.
- Fun-fucking-tastic, - he suddenly laughed, - Just fucking gorgeous. Outrageously gorgeous, I've never felt any better. Super-duper!
- It is a big pleasure to hear it, - Martin said.
They kept silence for several minutes. Dave tried to breath and Martin gazing at the crows on the top of the park tree over the office window.
- How's your baby? - asked Dave.
- Good.
- Fucking Captain Boisvert?
- Dave, choose your expressions for she is my wife.
- Oh my, oh my, oh my, - Dave giggled, - forgive me, honey; I completely forgot about your legendary sensitivity to the words!
- What exactly do you want from me? - Martin's voice showed no emotions. Dave ignored his question.
- Teresa left me, you know?
- I am very sorry. You were such a perfect pair.
Wow, sarcasm's here. Well, finally gentle hint of some emotion.
- I wanted to ask you as my best friend, - Dave smirked, - and probably you could help me with the answer. Why did she do that?
- Heh-heh-heh, - Martin laughed out loud.
- Why, Mart? Why?
- Dave, I have no idea, - said Martin. So soon he closed himself from him again.
- Mart, I am alone.
- Dave, I think it won't last long. Your life is in your hands. There are a lot of nice people around you, and your own charm is over any reasonable bounds. Don't worry, everything gonna be all right soon.
- Bitch.
- Huh? - asked Martin.
- Is it so fucking hard to forgive?
- God forgive.
- I was forgiving you more.
- That's a useless talk, Dave, probably you are right I am not standing in the position where I have a right to forgive or not. Apparently it was my fault…
- Don't start this shit again…
- Don't interrupt me!
- Yeah, I like it! YEAH! Show me your emotions…
Martin almost crashed the receiver of the table.
- I made him mad, - Dave happily laughed, - I finally made him mad.
***
The weather channel worked for fourth's day in Los Angeles's hotel room, Dave was staring at the TV with the dropped down jaw, his face showed deepest interest, although in his head it seemed very cool and unbelievable, he couldn't break free for a minute.
They've discussed it with Buggs Bunny, a toy from Disney's store, and with Tiny Man and the lion. He was aware to talk much with tiny man, because he seemed to be very bitchy by nature, and he was afraid of the lion, because he knew, he held a hidden intention to eat him.
One day followed another and they were similar. Probably it wasn't a days, it was weeks or even months. Dave stopped to count days and hours, it lost its meaning. Everything has lost its meaning. But not his dealer's of the chemistry phone calls. Dave felt deep interest in chemistry at some point, he mixed different proportions of cocaine and heroine and yes the speedball was better then anything. He discussed his achievements in modern chemistry with his toy friends.
But once he was bored with it.
- Listen, you, animal, - Dave once told to the Rabbit, - Talk to me. Nobody wants to talk to me. What are you talking about? I am sitting by the phone right from the moment I left the London's street, since I left I am sitting by the phone like a fucking maid, waiting for her groom. He doesn't know my number? You, plush brute, lie but understand what you are doing. I called him tomorrow…yesterday…ouch…today…I forgot it is too hard. Listen he didn't pick up the receiver. What? Wha-a-at? He wasn't home? Fuck it, he was, I bet he was. He knows that I will call him, every time, he just knows. He SHOULD be home when I am calling him. If he isn't home, then it means that he don't want to talk to me.
Dave stood up from his chair, looked under the chair where the Rabbit was sitting, then looked under the drawer too.
- Hush, - he put his finger to his lips and winked to Buggs Bunny, - What if someone overhearing? You know they have bugs everywhere…
Dave fell down into the couch and waved to a toy.
- He won't come. He doesn't need me anymore. I will die; he won't lift his ass up off the chair. I'll die and he won't come to say goodbye. I am not needed anymore. CAN YOU HEAR ME, BEAST? HUH?
- I bet, - Dave jumped when someone knocked on his door silently; he opened the door and saw a girl, standing in the next room of his apartments.
- Who are you? - He asked her. She was dark-haired and in heavy make-up, and all in black. Probably a fan. But why is she in his apartment?
- I am Merrill, - she said.
- What are you doing here?
- Dave you invited me… - she was stammering and blushing.
- You are lying! - He pointed at her in denunciatory, - Everybody's lying!
He shut the door right before girl's nose.
- Buggs, nobody needs me…My wife said me to go and fuck myself…FUUCCCK MYYYSEEELLLFFF. - My son is despising me…they are laughing…huh…you are too funny, daddy. My child don't give a shit about me…I am not his dad anymore, they all wiping the floor with me. What are you laughing at, you rag-doll? David is too funny? She told me, ya know…just between us, don't tell anybody, she said, you're unable to even have a hard on anymore…. It's just I can't get a hard on when I see you, bitch. BI-ITCH.
Dave went barefooted to the bathroom and opened a tap. He went down on his knees near the bath; he was staring enchantingly at the running water.
- Life is shit, Buggs. And I tell you it is shit. The Big Heap of Stinking Muck. Don't tell me that I shitted it by myself, huh? All I ever wanted is to love and be loved, I want friends and job….fuck it, fuck them all…everything that I have now is my spoon…my spoon…and candle and the needle too. Uh…don't mention his name more, not here, I don't want to hear it anymore, it's fucking hurts. Never mention his name in my house, shit, - Dave laughed, - I am talking bullshit, I have no house.
He returned to Buggs and squatted down before him.
- They forgot about me. Once upon a time there was Dave, but there is no more Dave, ha-ha-ha…you know what? I am already dead for him. Yeapp, I will send his regard to Jim Morrison up there, he will be flattered, - Dave laughed out loud again, - Don't be afraid, Rabbit, he won't come. I do not exist for him anymore; he forgot about me, they forgot about me, there is no Dave anymore. No, I do not exist.
He went to the bathroom again and got into the warm tub, wheezing.
- I will show you. Buggs! Besides, how's the weather in London? Huh?
He meditatively stroked his hand, up and down with a blade, feeling a touch of steel, and this feeling calmed him a little, he pushed harder, sensing the grinning of blood. He turned his hand and shook it, seeing heavy drops of purple blood dripping on the snow-white bathroom tiles.
- Drop and drop, - he laughed, - Drop. Nope, that's not fun at all.
He cut his hand deeper more.
- A-ha, that's better, Martin…hello…do you still remember my name? MARTIE… MAR-R-RT…BUGGS I WON YA! LISTEN TO ME HE DON'T GIVE A FUCK…HE WON'T COME EVEN WHEN I'LL DIE! Dave is weak? You think Dave is weak; he is nothing but your puppet…but Dave won you. Dave will go that way, the rest of your life you will be sorry. Mart… fuck, Mart, why you are not here? Why are you not with me? MA-A-A-A-A-A-ART - he shouted, as if he could hear him, - M-A-A-A-ART! Whatever…I will shout out your name…I will call you, and nothing else matters. Martin. Martin. Mart.
He enthusiastically cut his wrist more and more slashed his skin in sudden seizure of a hate he felt to himself, still he found the result unsatisfactory. Blood flew harder and he cut himself once again feeling his fingers grew numb. And right in that moment, right before he slipped out into unconsciousness and fell down into the pool of his own blood, Dave finally understood what exactly he had done to himself. He yelled in panic, threw himself out of the hot tub leaving a blood trail wherever he could. All that poor Merrill could do to him was to call an emergency.
***
When pub's walls begin to slowly move - the consciousness moved away too and it was good. There was a TV on and two haunters fought each other for the remote control to switch the channel. Football was over and there was nothing to watch.
Some weird music played loudly. Martin stared bluntly onto the TV with one eye, to not see double; he was sitting near the counter. Someone switch to the news and then Martin saw Dave's face. Bold haunter switched the channel again, swearing this drugged buggers; Martin rushed to him, almost falling in his way, and took the remote control from him, without a word. News announced that ex-rock star Dave Gahan guided into the hospital because of his suicide attempt. The Bold man mothered Martin and took the remote control back. If he wasn't sure that Martin dead drunk, he would hit his mug for sure.
Martin was violently shaking, when he moved away, his legs failed him and he fell down on his knees, he numbly felt tears on his cheeks. He hardly could comprehend what he was doing, when he began to hit his head against the floor, but the other people in the pub were rather surprised with his behavior.
- God! - he whispered almost inaudibly, praying like he could, - Forgive me, I beg you, forgive me all this, I can't take it anymore, take my life because I just don't need it. God, if you do exist, stop, stop your joking with me for I am too weak for your jokes, he had strengths to stop it but I can't. I can't make it by myself, but I can't live like this no more…Forgive me.
Two big guys dragged him off from the nub, onto the street. He tried to resist.
- Get your fucking sleep, drunkard, - they advised him, leaving him lying on the street, near the garbage can, he drunkenly passed out, unable to stand up or call for help.
***
Was he surprised when he woke up in his own bedroom? The sun was shining brightly, he was lying across his own bed, fully dressed even in his boots, but still he was at home. Was he really surprised that Fletch was sitting on the arm-chair he cut his hair short and held his Viva on his lap?
- Che-e-eky monkey, - Fletch told Viva.
- Fletch? - asked Martin and rubbed his eyes.
- Fletch, - Fletch said.
- Is he… - Martin's voice broke.
Fletch shook his head thoughtfully.
- They resuscitated him, - he said and his voice sounded a little bit sarcastic, - he was too scared. He didn't want to.
- Oh, my…fuck…
- Go and turn yourself into some sort of human being, you, victim of the alcohol intoxication, you have half an hour before taxi to the airport will arrive.
- I-I-I can't, - Martin moaned, - I can't…it's too fast…
- P-put yourself right, milksop!
- I won't go, Fletch, I won't.
- You will, - gloomily said Fletch, - or I will kill you, what do you think Viva?
Viva grabbed Fetch's finger and laughed.
- Kill, then - Martin said melancholically.
- For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo, - Fletch quoted Shakespeare and laughed to his own joke.
- Fletch, what should I tell him? - Martin set up on the bed clutching his head in his hands, because painful spasm pierced it.
- It doesn't matter, he doesn't have a clue what's going on anyway.
Martin sniffed and hid his face in his hands.
- Psychos, Good God, I've told you won't survive without me. C'mon baby we will go to your nanny she has a nice surprise for her little Viva, let's take a look?
Martin got drunk in the plane again, and slept through all ten hours of the flight trustfully buried his nose in Fletch's shoulder.
It seemed unbelievable that Dave was still alive. He looked like a skeleton hanging on tubes of the dropper. Although, it was Dave. Tears blinded them all; Dave had just enough strings to open up his eyes. He inhaled convulsively.
- You're alive, - Martin whispered, almost falling down on his knees near the hospital bed.
- Mart…you've come… - Dave smiled weakly, - you've nevertheless fucking come, Mart.
- Listen, you'd better call him next time when you will have an idea to see him, huh? - Fletch set down onto the chair near the bed and put his one ankle on top of his other knee.
- I called! - Dave yelled, so the nurse rushed to held the dropper straight.
- Dave…
- I CALLED!!!
The nurse made a sigh to Martin that they better leave now.
- We have to go…
- No… - Dave's eyes sparkled wet, - Please don't go.
Martin bent to him and kissed his forehead.
- I won't go, Dave. I won't go.
The nurse insisted and they left.
Time passed, Dave got better, and Daniel decided to gather him in studio again.
Virtually, since that moment there have to be Heaven for them, but against all laws it was Hell. Suddenly they realized that they have got something to loose. But death decided not to give up so easily.
They habits of persistent self-destruction for the long years rooted deep inside of them, not going cheap too. As Alexander of Macedon said when he won the Greatest Persian Empire, "To enter the Babylon was a lot easier then to leave it."
They were recording one song for months. Dave was loosing his voice. He said that it was his new medication from his problem with his throat. He was out again and again to take his medications, or so he said, but it became worse and worse.
He began to suffer his swing of the mood; it seemed that the rehabilitation center didn't help in a bit. When Martin asked him about drugs, he said no several times then hit his face and said that he fucked him up with his stupid questions. Of course he apologized later and suffered from his outbursts too.
He wasn't able to keep in mind the song's lyrics at all. He wasn't able to keep in mind what month and what day is it now. He remembered him woke up one morning in some friend's house, downstairs on the couch and their child asked him what is his name, and he couldn't remember his own name. Just couldn't.
They traveled through different studios, trying to find themselves. Job helped from time to time to forget all the shit that happened, Andy took his medications and started to drink, although it was forbidden to him and to Martin too. But soon Martin should go back home, because Susanne gave birth to his second child, Ava. And Andy moved to London too to do his business.
They vacation became too long.
Dave was hospitalized in apparent death from the drug overdose. But it seemed that God had a sick sense of humor indeed and he survived again. And he had to answer the Law for the drugs keeping.
At this time an Angel stepped into his life and her name was Jennifer.
AJÁNLOM AZ OLDALT
Súgó