A New Kind Of Hell

Devin’s POV

I absolutely abhor waking up in the hospital. It was terrifying. As I looked around the room, I saw Balz and Chris. I relaxed when I saw them. Taking off the stupid oxygen mask, I felt a weird tube in my nose. It took a second before I realized it was a feeding tube. Reaching for it, Chris stopped me and said, “Don’t you touch that.” Putting my hands up in surrender, I tugged on the IV that was apparently in my right hand.

“What happened? What day is it?” I asked.

“Well, we were having a snowball fight at a rest stop. You were running away from us and fell. When you fell, you face planted and knocked yourself out in the process. We drove here, and we changed you out of your wet clothes on the way here. And it’s only a day later. You’ve been unconscious since like 3pm, and its like 10 Am.” Balz answered.

“Okay. So what with the feeding tube?” I asked.

“They weren’t sure how long you would be unconscious so they inserted it as a precaution.” Balz answered.

“When can I go leave? What about tonight’s show?” I asked.

“I’ll ask a doctor, and for right now, it’s rescheduled, but the fans don’t know yet.” Chris answered before getting up and leaving.

“Y’know he carried you to the van and into the hospital. He also changed you into some of his dry clothes.” Balz said the moment Chris was gone.

“Oh.” Was all I could say, Chris had done that all for me?

“He cares still. You both may be distant, but he still cares. He was the first person by your side when you didn’t get back up.”

“Why are you telling me this Balz?”

“I don’t know.” He answered.

Chris returned with a doctor a few minutes later. The doctor introduced himself and told me that I did not have a head injury, but I had gone into the beginning stages of hypothermia, as well as a developing case of pneumonia. My ankle was also severely swollen and bruised.

The doctor said I could be released in an hour, once they reexamined me and made sure I had no complications. The guys left and the doctors checked me out. They removed the gauze on my head, the IV from my hand and the damn feeding tube from my nose. Have I ever mentioned how much I fucking hate feeding tubes? What about hospitals? I fucking abhor hospitals with a large passion.

I’d have to stay off my ankle (I don’t know how that’s gonna happen) in order for the swelling to go down. I’d also have to take antibiotics for the pneumonia. If the pain from my ankle got worse, I would have to have it reexamined. Once I was finally out, I got dressed in the clothes I came in, (they were Chris’s and smelt like him) they wheeled me to the van in a wheel chair. Once I was in the back, in my little makeshift bed, I wrapped my blanket around me and pulled Chris’s shirt close and closed my eyes. Within minutes of us pulling on to the highway, I was asleep.

When I woke up next, it was one of the guys telling me that we were at the next venue and the show was going to go on like planned since we made schedule. Apparently, Balz bought me a cane so I could hobble along, and be able to move. It was actually a nice gesture, and I was thankful for him. I’d be able to hobble along back stage and when we played, I would go on without it, and hopefully the adrenaline would keep the pain away.

Chris and I avoided each other for the last few hours. It was just awkward. What was I supposed to say to him? What could I even say to him? I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t. He means so much to me. When I’m freaking out, he’s the calmness that I need to calm down.

Getting ready for the show, Ricky helped me get my jeans on. My ankle was massively swollen and the damned jeans wouldn’t go on. In all honesty, it was funny. Because what was more funny than a grown man trying to pull up his pants and couldn’t, so he had starting pouting and glaring at the other bit of fabric in hopes of it magically fitting; until his friend who was like hobbit sized had to help him put his pants on. But because I was frustrated, tired and annoyed, I threw an orange and Balz who thought it was hilarious and hit him in the jaw.

I later apologized to him for that. He said it was all right, he understood. I had my cane with me right until we took the stage. The guys worried about me, but I told them that I would be okay. In the past, when my ankle got swollen, and I had no other option but to walk, despite it being swollen, it was fine.

It wasn’t fine this time. Not even close. The pain was there and it was clear, I would not be able to ignore it. Focusing on the music, I tried to not mess up. I messed up quite a few times already, but the guys probably knew it was inevitable. Chris did his thing where he talked to the crowd in between songs so we could all get water and switch to pre-tuned instruments that were needed for certain songs. I limped off stage to switch basses. Of course some smart ass made a remark about my limp, asking, “Who fucked the fag that hard in the ass. He’s nasty, who’d want to do that?”

I rolled my eyes and continued back on stage with my bass. Of course the dumb ass yelled it louder this time, and caught the attention of Ricky. I gave him a quick glare and continued on to my mic stand. The third time he yelled it, he got Chris’s attention. At that point, I looked at Balz and shook my head.

Chris had a look. A look that he has when he defends someone he cares about. Most times, I wouldn’t care. But I really just wanted to forget about my limp and pretend it wasn’t there, until it went away once we got back to warmer climate. Of course, I never get what I want.

“That’s extremely rude you dickweed. Do you think it’s fucking funny to make fun of people who walk with a fucking limp?” he said.

“ I THINK IT’S FUCKING HILARIOUS THAT YOU DEFEND THAT FAGGOT.” The guy shouted.


“I think that you should fucking shut the fuck up, before you walk into someone’s fist, better yet, walk into my fucking fist. Just walk into my goddamn fist, and please just go eat a bowl of shut the fuck ups, and a cup of intelligence.” Chris said.

The dumb ass guy shut up, when Chris said that. Chris then went on to say, “Y’know who’s a bad ass?

The crowd shouted random names and people; Chris paused then said, “my buddy ghost here.”

He stood beside me and put his arm around me carefully.

“This guy, this guy was passed out yesterday and we had to take him to the hospital. He was there until this morning, and tonight, HE PLAYS HERE WITH YOU ALL. How fucking badass is that? No matter what happened yesterday, he’s here in front of you all. I say he’s a badass, and he’s strong. That limp the guy made fun of, that’s from his ankle, it’s massively swollen, like a cantaloupe, and it hurts a lot. Let’s give it up for Ghost. This next song is called Contemptress, please welcome, the lovely and ever so beautiful, ASH COSTELLO.” He said.

She smiled and came on stage. She said before we started the song, “I’ve known Ghost here since before he’s known these goofballs and I’ve got to say, he’s a damn veteraned badass.”

Once we finally got going with the song, it was fun. I love having Ash on stage. When we all head bang in sync, it’s fucking awesome. We played a few more songs before our set came to a finish. Despite the massive amount of pain I was in, it was a great show. Unfortunately, this tour was almost over. We had maybe like 5 shows left. Packing up our stuff, Ricky offered to help me, which was more of a demand and sent me to go sit in the van. With no one around, I took my medication and pulled Chris’s shirt on and attempted to fall asleep. When it was near impossible, I played with my phone until the guys walked up. Once they were there, I was able to slowly drift off to sleep, feeling safe with them there with me.

Notes