Devil Choir tour. (sequel to Unbroken)

I slowly opened my eyes and groaned. My head was throbbing and my stomach felt like it was being stirred. I lifted my head and wished I hadn't because a sudden wave of nausea washed over me.
I rolled out of Andy's bed, which he apparently wasn't in anymore, and dashed to the bathroom. I kneeled over the toilet just as the vomit came up. It felt like acid.
I heard a knocking on the door that only increased the pain in my head.
"Kit, are you okay in there?" Andy asked me.
I was going to respond when I puked again. Andy opened the door and eyed me over.
"Ugh, please leave, Andy. I don't want you to see me like this."
"Trust me, I've seen way worse, usually from CC," he laughed.
I flinched at the loudness of his voice.
"Oh, sorry," he apologized.
"It's okay," I said, my nausea seeming to pass.
"Do you want to take the bedroom? You'll need rest before the show."
"Yeah, thanks."
I picked myself up from the floor and shuffled to the bedroom and carefully laid my body down on the bed. I was out within the minute.
I don't know how long I had been out when I heard Quinn murmur to me, "Kit...please wake up."
I whimpered as I sat up and Quinn handed me a red pill and a water bottle. I swallowed them and laid back down. God, I felt like shit.
"Thanks Quinn," I said.
"No problem. Next time go easy on the drinking though, okay?"
"Yeah. Make sure to kill Tommy and Ryan for me. Those buttholes were the ones who talked me into it," I laughed weakly.
"Don't worry, I'll get revenge for you," she smirked.
*******************************************************************************
I wasn't feeling even close to well enough to perform by the time soundcheck rolled around. Quinn offered to take my place tonight and sing some of the songs she liked. I was still laying in the bedroom. Honestly, I was sort of glad that I wouldn't see the show. I love Quinn dearly, but she was taking my place, and nothing is worse than seeing someone replace you. It made me feel sick. Quinn was a better singer than me and I knew it. What if the guys decided they wanted her as the lead singer and not me?
I tried giving Quinn everything I could so she could live in a comfortable house. I put up with my old boss at the record store and played gigs to pay for the bills. Every day I would have this little seed of jealousy inside of me because Quinn was...well, she was Quinn. She wasn't afraid to let loose, she didn't have to grow up as fast as I had to, she was outgoing and free-spirited. I wished I was her.
I just wanted to get drunk again and forget about all of my problems.
I got up from the bed and headed to the fridge where I saw a bottle of vodka sitting on top of it. I reached up and grabbed it. I unscrewed the top and poured some down my throat. I felt that familiar burn and I continued to take large sips. Before I knew it, I had already downed a fourth of the bottle and my eye-sight was blurry. I made out a small, sharp, metallic object on the counter. A razor.
'You know you want to. It'll relieve all of the pain you're feeling. No one has to know.,' a voice in my head told me.
"N-no. I pr-promised Andy th-that I w-wouldn't," I slurred to myself.
'You don't have to tell. Besides, Quinn will take your place in the band and Andy will leave you. Is there really any use in not punishing yourself for being worthless?'
I let out a choked sob and grabbed the razor while putting down the vodka. I ran the blade against the inside of my forearms. Blood droplets began to form and I smiled to myself. It felt so good. I continued to take out all of my anger on myself.
I looked down at my skin and noticed the thirty-some cuts I had made. The relief that I was feeling had vanished and I was filled with guilt and disgust. How could I do this to myself? I dropped the blade and stumbled back into the bedroom. I fell on the bed and cried until I fell asleep.
I woke back up when I heard the bedroom door open.
Andy stood in doorway and he looked at me with dissapointment. I could faintly hear Quinn crying somewhere else on the bus. What was going on?
"Hey, Andy," I said, groggily.
"Kit, what is this?" he asked holding up a blood-stained razor.
"It's not what it-"
"Just tell me the truth."

Notes