a songstress in the making : camilla st. john

[cajun_songbird]

Bittersweet October. The mellow, messy, leaf-kicking, perfect pause between the opposing miseries of summer and winter. -- Carol Bishop Hipps


The air held the crisp scent of Fall; leaves starting their scatter from trees like multi-colored snow. It was this time of year that she adored the most, even if it signified the end of Summer and was a gateway to the frigid essence of Winter. The smell of bonfires always made her nostalgic, as well as the jack-o-lanterns starting to make their appearance on people's doorsteps. The weather wasn't too hot or too cold during the day, almost like Spring, though in reverse. Things dying instead of being reborn.

Leaning against the hard back of the bench situated at the edge of the park, blue-violets were focused on the small gathering of children playing just ahead of her. Clambering over the jungle gyms, pumping their little legs to get the swings as high as they could manage; shouting and chasing each other with handfuls of leaves. It cause a smile to tug at the corner of her mouth, bringing back memories of Sam chasing her across the yard into the forest, saying a Leaf Monster was coming after her. The Leaf Monster had been his silly self, with leaves shoved into the neck and arms of his shirt as he waved his arms maniacally over his head. With that thought in mind, her posture relaxed on the bench, head canting to the side slowly... slowly.. slowly.. tipping over...

----

Shoulders jerked suddenly as she almost toppled from the bench, and both hands went up to swipe down her face. When it was to the point of falling asleep in a public place, perhaps it was time to head home and find a pillow. Scissoring at the waist to grab her bag, something just ahead caught her eye, and she paused in a freeze-frame, mouth slightly agape. Across, at the swing set, was the form of a man pushing a small child; the tiny mouth open and laughing aloud at the feeling of the wind flying past him. The face of the man seemed blurred out, and her eyes narrowed-- she needed to start wearing her glasses more..

Off from the tree line, another form emerged, though this one was in perfect focus. A five-foot-two woman with dark brown hair and shifting ocean eyes.. "Cam, come look at this. He thinks he's flying." The man's amused voice lilted over the wind, and... she.. walked over to stand beside him, behind the boy. "Samuel, if you go any higher, the swing chains are gonna wrap 'round the top pole." Her.. other voice sounded just as amused as the blurry faced man's, and a hand reached out to slowly bring .. Samuel to a halt. "But Maaa." Childish petulance was scrawled all over the, what looked to be, four year old's face as he craned around to look at .. her. "I wanna go to the moon." Plainatively. "Mais oui, but if you go, me and your Pere are gonna be sad. You don't want that, do you?"

Swooping down to wrap her arms around him, he giggled and turned to throw his own around her neck. "Course not, but .. maybe one day?" Wide blue-green eyes were fixed on both .. parents; wide and hopeful to the point of bringing a chuckle from the father. "Maybe one day, squirt. Right now, we need to head back to the house and get you fed." A finger zooming down, it wiggled at the child's stomach, bringing another round of giggles before .. Samuel was picked up by his father. "Your mom can't come, though. Say bye-bye." A tiny hand was waved her way as they began backing up towards the far end of the park. It seemed they were heading for a wall of black, and try as she may, a warning couldn't be called out to them, or her other self.

The feeling of warmth, to the point of scorching, caused her gaze to tear away from the scene, only to land on a shadowy bulk of limbs and torso sitting beside her; one arm thrown over the back of the bench as if everything was ordinary. "Almosst ssseemss too good to be true, doessn't it?" The question was asked musingly, and try as she may, a reply couldn't be formed. Instead, her attention slid back just in time to see the man and child disappear, leaving .. her to stand there blankly. "I haven't forgotten about you." A finger tapped atop her head before the shadow slid along the ground to reform behind Cam II. His head cocking to the side, a makeshift hand waved back and forth in front of the unseeing eyes. "I can take what little you have now or..." An about face had it turned back her way, and her chin shot up to stare levelly. "... I can come later and take ... it.. all." An oozing smile formed. "Your choice. And.. Cam?"

Disappearing completely then, her brows knit together in confusion. Hands going to the seat beneath her, she was about to push up to her feet when the feel of hot breath could be felt on her neck. "Boo."

----

Choking off a scream, she fell to her knees, onto the ground below, causing a few sets of eyes to slide her way. Shoulders heaving, her chin tucked to her chest as she worked at calming down; lids slamming down to block everything from view until she was ready to .. see. Slowly -- very slowly -- the world was brought back into technicolor, eyes searching frantically for the sight of those two figures only to be confronted with... stares. A murmured apology was given to the nearest couple and their child as she hurried to her feet-- bag gathered in her arms as she all but ran out of the park.

Even though she knew it was a daymare -- now -- the overwhelming sense of .. loss, sat heavily in her chest. It clogged her throat, and gave way to the burning sting that preceeded tears. The sight of that little boy's happy face -- Samuel's face -- would haunt her every time she closed her eyes...

.. what little you have now.. or take it all..

[cajun_songbird]

<center></center>

I've lied to you,
the same way that I always do.
This is the last smile,
that I'll fake for the sake of being with you.

Everything falls apart, even the people who never frown eventually break down.
The sacrifice of hiding in a lie.
Everything has to end, you'll soon find we're out of time left to watch it all unwind.
The sacrifice is never knowing...

Why I never walked away.
Why I played myself this way.
Now I see your testing me pushes me away.

I've tried like you,
to do everything you wanted to.
This is the last time,
I'll take the blame for the sake of being with you.

We?re all out of time, this is how we find how it all unwinds.
The sacrifice of hiding in a lie.
We?re all out of time, this is how we find how it all unwinds.
The sacrifice is never knowing...

Why I never walked away.
Why I played myself this way.
Now I see your testing me pushes me away.

( pushing me away : linkin park )

[cajun_songbird]

<center>Well baby there you stand,
with your little head down in your hands.
Oh my God, I can't believe it's happening again.
Your baby's gone and you're all alone
and it looks like the end.

Now you're back out on the street,
and you're trying to remember..
How do you start it over?
You don't know if you can.
You don't care much for a stranger's touch
but you can't hold your man.

Never thought you'd be alone this far down the line.
But I know what's been on your mind.
You're afraid it's all been wasted time.

The autumn leaves have got you thinking
about the first time that you fell.
You didn't love the boy too much.
No, no, you just loved the boy too well.

So you live from day to day,
and you dream about tomorrow.
And the hours go by like minutes,
and the shadows come to stay.
So you take a little something,
to make them go away.

I could've done so many things baby,
if I could only stop my mind,
from wondering what I left behind.
If I'm worrying about this wasted time.

Another love has come and gone.
The years keep rushing on.
I remember what you told me
before you went out on your own.
"Sometimes to keep it together,
you've got to leave it alone."

So you can get on with your search baby,
and I can get on with mine.
And maybe someday we will find,
that it wasn't really wasted time.

( wasted time : the eagles )

----</center>

"'Camilla, y'have t'push now."

Teeth gritting together, a fierce glare was leveled on the nurse standing at the foot of the bed. Hands were above her head, wrapped tightly around the bedposts-- knuckles having already gone bloodless from the grip. "Y'kin glare at me all day, cher, but dat ain't gon'get dat bebe out. Now push, y'hear?" A breath exhaled slowly, blinking away the sweat dripping into her eyes, the bed frame protested as she used her leverage to help bear down. Biting her bottom lip to keep from screaming, a trickle of blood trailed down her chin to splatter on front of the cotton gown that was bunched up around her waist.

"Dat's it, cher. Jus'a little more, and we gon' have dat right outta ya." Gathering up the skirts of her uniform, the nurse stepped aside to allow the doctor room to work. The coaching was left to the women; he was just here to catch, pass off, and leave. "I can't do this, I can't..." Whimpering, her eyes squeezed shut as she bore down a last time. The pain felt like an iron band had been cinched around her stomach and someone kept tightening the clasp every so often. Exhausted, sweat coated, and teary, blue-violets rolled up towards the nurse; pleading. No epidurals, no handy medicine drip to help the hurting, she was to the point of giving up until the doctor muttered something aside to the nurse.

"One more."

Cool fingers began brushing back through her damp hair, moving to coax her to release the bedrail. "Lean up and grab yo'knees, cher. Doc said jus' one more and s'over." Full out sobbing at this point, she struggled into an upright position, hands flailing at her sides in effort to grasp at her knees like she'd been instructed. It took the nurse urging up against her back to get into position; teeth gritting in determination. Bearing down, a shrill scream erupted from her throat as the pressure built to an almost crushing point-- black dots swimming in her vision before...

"S'a boy. I'll inform d'parents."

Passing the squirming, yelling bundle off to the nurse, Cam was immediately vacated so that the other woman could tend to the baby. It was like someone had flipped a switch and shut down all the pain; eyes blinking rapidly to clear the moisture away as she craned her head to try and catch a glimpse. Ten hours of pain... "H-he.. alright?" Her voice was raspy, and it took several clearings just to get those two words out. "Mais oui, cher, he be doin' jus'fine." Lips pursing, the nurse glanced towards the door before moving to push it shut. "Y'wanna hol'im? Jus'for a second, 'fore d'em adoption people get here." Collapsing back against the pillows, something that might've been a hysterical giggle broke free before she nodded.

The moment he was placed in the crook of her arm, Cam felt like she couldn't breathe. He had stopped crying, and unfocused eyes seemed to be trained up towards her. It was like he understood this would be the one and only time the two would meet, even though she knew better than that. Fingers lifted to trail through the whispy strands of jet curling atop his head; lips crooking into a smile as she sobbed again. "Y'gonna do alright," was all she could whisper to him, a kiss pressed to his tiny knuckles before a knock sounded.

"I'm sorry, cher, but s'time." The nurse's tone was sympathetic, and she took her time lifting the infant from his mother's arms. Nodding blankly, Cam's hands dropped away slowly from the swaddled form. "Merci." Not expecting a thanks, the elder woman simply smiled at Cam before turning on her heel to deliver the baby for the second time. Left alone in the delivery room, she slumped down until her head met the pillow, eyes closing in a vain attempt to sleep. A noise from the corner of the room caused blue-violets to re-open, and they widened at what she was presented with.

A black shadow tore its way from behind the door, making a big show out of tip toeing over to the bed. "Husssh little baby, don't sssay a word.." A maniacal cackle erupted then, black ooze hands drifting down to run over the blood trail still on her mouth. "Mama'sss gonna give you up to the sstate asss a ward. Bad Mere." Finger clocking her way, she struggled to sit up again only to have the shadow -- Le Bukker -- crawled up beside her. Make shift hands tucked behind its head as it rolled what she perceived to be a look her way. "At leasst your Mother kept you inssstead of giving you away like a newssspaper."

* * * *

There wasn't any jerking awake from this nightmare-- eyes opened slowly to fixate on the ceiling above her. She and Bren had fallen asleep on the living room floor, and a foot hit an empty bourbon bottle as she shifted position. They had spent the night drinking, singing along with the radio, and tossing bottle caps at the cars that passed by, from the balcony. Not much had been said about what Cam had told Bren. It had been one of those 'Let's just forget anything happened, is happening, is gonna happen' times. Too much stress, too much pain. Even God needed a break once a week.

Hand reaching up to swipe down her face, she turned on her side, arm tucking beneath her head as she glanced to Bren. She had finally broken down and told Cam about the nightmare's visit to her, and what had happened to Vivian. They hadn't needed to talk directly about their problems to comfort each other. The jokes, the smiles, the blatant refusal to acknowledge what had been happening lately.. they weren't as difficult as the men thought they were.

All Cam knew at that moment, she was about to go find another bourbon bottle to curl up with.

[cajun_songbird]

<center>I don't know what you're doing,
and I don't know where you are.
But I look up at that great big sky
and I hope you're wishing on that same bright star.

I wonder... I pray...

I sleep alone, I cry alone.
Without you this house is not a home.
I walk alone, I try alone
And I wait for.. don't wanna die alone.
So please come home soon.

----</center>

October 10th


"I don't want to go."

The petulant words were directed to the Astronomer, who was standing in front of her, glaring at her through his bangs. He'd already been through the Doe Eyes, Dimple Pout, and Precious Moments Goth Doll looks, and was quickly running out of options. Making a sound in the back of his throat, he brought his hand around from behind him and held up a bottle of Makers. It was waved back and forth. "Five minutes, that's all. Then you can have this and I won't say a word when you're drunk stupid and puking in the bushes." Chin lifting almost definately, he dared her to say anything in return, other than a Yes. Staring up his way through her own fringe of bangs -- hair just as short, if not moreso than his -- feet swung from the chair to settle on the floor. "Fine. Five minutes, that's all. You better not hide it or break it either." Honest, she's almost twenty-three, not five. Happy to have his way, he leaned in to press his cheek to hers before grabbing her hand. "I won't, let's go." Not entirely willing, or looking forward to this, she trudged along quietly behind him.

It always amazed her, how one minute you're in one reality, and the next, poof. Lafayette. She likened it to Alice falling down the rabbit hole, just in reverse. Things made more sense here, ironically enough. Stepping away from him, letting him get settled, blue-violets cut up warily towards the line of tombs just ahead. Vaguely, the thought of, I forgot flowers drifted through, and the corners of her mouth tugged down. Biting her lower lip, she swung around towards Des, head tilting in the direction she was going before breaking into a slow stride. A touch at her hand caused her to turn again, and he pressed a small bouquet of fall colored flowers into her palm before nodding towards one of the tombs. He could always read her mind. The tomb. A bare hint of a smile was given to him before she nodded, and walked up to the stone building.


<center>Samuel Michael St. John
<font size=1>C H E R I S H E D B R O T H E R</font>

May 24th, 1919 - October 9th, 1943

Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you:
not as the world giveth, give I unto you.
Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.</center>


Tracing over the engraved letters of the plague decorating the door, her head bowed. Maybe praying, possibly trying to not cry, or simply taking a moment for herself. The Sign of the Cross was made slowly before she sank to her knees in the grass, head tilted back to stare up at the building as if it could tell her something. "I..." Mouth opening, once that singular word was voiced, she couldn't think of .. what to say. There was so much that she needed to, this she knew, but when everything tried to come together in her mind, it was just.. blank.

"Cam.."

Des' quiet voice prompted her from where he stood, just behind her; far enough away to give a modicum of privacy, but close enough to help her if she needed it. Nodding shortly, not even looking his way, misty eyes dropped from the tomb to stare blandly at the dead grass beneath her knees. "I keep thinkin' he ain't in there." The words were so soft, one might think it was just the breeze sweeping through the willows instead of her actually speaking. Shrugging, a leg came around until she was sitting flat on the ground. "I know he is, and I know I need to .. tell him..." Swallowing thickly, the back of her hand swiped over her eyes before she fell silent again. For the longest of moments, the only sounds were the wind sweeping through the trees, her hitched breathing, and Des' calm breathing. Then like a floodgate bursting...

"I felt like it was my fault you had to join up with them.. Like, if I had stayed with you, we coulda done what we always planned. You were the best mechanic in the parish.." Plucking idly at the grass, she kept her eyes downcast as the words poured. "Then you got killed, and I was so mad at you.. If I coulda brought you back and kicked your ass, I might've, but then that guilt came creepin' in and it... it just hurt." Voice cracking on the last word, she pulled her lower lip in towards her teeth, and paused. "You were my world and I was yours, and when I left, I jerked that world right out from beneath your feet... I'm sorry.. I'm sorry I didn't stay for you, but.." Inhaling sharply then, she pushed up to her feet, eyes flashing fire as the tomb was stared at. "It was my life, and it was your life and you FUCKED it up. I didn't fuck it up. You're not in there 'cause of anythin' I did, and you're so STUPID FOR DYIN'."

Fingers lacing at the back of her head, she took a step or so forward, until the tips of her shoes were touching the tomb's front. "I got this thing stalkin' me now, Sammy. I made it, but you helped even if you're dead... You're dead," the fact was repeated more for her sake than for the outburst. "I can't let it control me 'cause you let them control you and look what happened. You're in a box." With that last declaration, she slumped back down to the ground, arms crossing over her midriff almost protectively. The words came more quietly, move evenly the longer she talked. What she said, she wouldn't be able to tell you to save her life at a later date, but at the moment? Everything made perfect sense.

An hour later, she was exhausted, physically and mentally, barely have the strength to sit up much less stand. Des appeared at her elbow, having just returned from his wanderings among the old tombs, to help her; an arm slinging around her waist to get her to her feet. So far past the point of crying, her eyes were itchy, red, and swollen, and she gladly accepted the handkerchief he offered to her. "I'll take you home," was all he said, which loosely translated into : You're getting a shot in the arm when we get there. That flicker fade of a smile was flashed her way, and .. she didn't even have the strength to attempt to return it. "Bon." Nodding vaguely with that, she half stumbled, half used him as a leaning post as they made their way out of the cemetery.

[cajun_songbird]

<center>

I will not make the same mistakes that you did.
I will not let myself cause my heart so much misery.
I will not break the way you did.
You fell so hard.
I've learned the hard way to never let it get that far.

Because of you, I never stray too far from the sidewalk.
Because of you, I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt.
Because of you, I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me.
Because of you, I am afraid.

I lose my way and it's not too long before you point it out.
I cannot cry because you know that's weakness in your eyes.
I'm forced to fake a smile, a laugh everyday of my life.
My heart can't possibly break when it wasn't even whole to start with.

I watched you die.
I heard you cry every night in your sleep.
I was so young.
You should have known better than to lean on me.
You never thought of anyone else.
You just saw your pain.
And now I cry in the middle of the night for the same damn thing.

Because of you, I never stray too far from the sidewalk.
Because of you, I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt.
Because of you, I try my hardest just to forget everything.
Because of you, I don't know how to let anyone else in.
Because of you, I'm ashamed of my life because it's empty.
Because of you, I am afraid.



( because of you : kelly clarkson* )

----</center>


Carousel music was playing in the background.

The happy sounds of children's laughter filled the entire expanse of area, until there seemed to be no more room for anything else. A fantastical expansion of unconditional joy, it was a touchable thing, slithering over skin like a silk sheet smoothed out by the sweep of a hand. Endless smiles peering out behind grease painted faces, gleeful barkers calling out the wonderments of the world, the entire sight was enough to cause a person to step back and wonder... what's wrong here?

Breaking free from the crush surrounding her form, careful steps were redirected towards one of the closer buildings. The large sign out front proclaimed it to be a funhouse, and the door swung open once she got close enough. Hands reaching out to rest along the door's framing, she stuck her head inside and peered through the darkness, only to met with a dull glimmer at the far end of the hallway. A small nudge from behind nearly made her stumble to the floor, and as soon as she was inside, the door swung shut with a definitive *click*. Moving along the slanted hallway, hands went out at her sides to slid fingertips along the smooth plaster.

The music of the carousel was still audible here, seemingly reverberating throughout the building with resounding acoustics. Tinkling melodies twisted into something with deeper meaning, and lyrics began forming idly in her mind. The texture against her skin changed as the wall ended at a mirror, and she turned to stare at the distorted reflection. Funhouse mirrors usually made you just look.. funny -- fat on top, skinny at the bottom, wavy, etc. -- but this one reflected simply... her. The room in the reflection wasn't the funhouse, though; instead, a room filled without about ten kids was cast back her way. In her mind's eye, the small view grew until she was standing in the room, back against the wall, watching what was going on.

"They shouldn't allow people like ya in here."

"It looks like she got her clothes outta the swamp."

"Why don't ya just go back ta yer shack, swamp rat."

The taunts, the teases; they were all directed to the little girl huddled over her desk, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped in resignation. The children around her, they weren't any better than she was. All swamp rats from Bossier Parish, it was always easier to target the loner-- the one that was always off by themselves, never associating out of shyness or possibly fear. One of the bigger boys reached forward and knocked her books to the floor, while the rest laughed in amusement. As they began to drift away, the girl rose suddenly and dove at the boy's knees, riding his back to the ground and fists raised and lowered with the deadly accuracy of a guillotine. It took two of the teachers to drag her off of him, and she'd been suspended for a week. She'd never been a quitter.

Chin lifting, Cam smiled to herself as she turned her back to the scenario, hands going in front of her to touch the next mirror. An Alice in Wonderland effect, or rather a Through the Looking Glass, she stepped through the reflective, distorted surface only to come out in a clear patch of sand lining a creek. "Hol' on, Cam, don't let 'im getcha!" Cupping his hands around his mouth, John called after the brother / sister duo as Sam chunked her into the creek; thin arms and legs thrashing wildly before her body splashed loudly in the water. Four boys were standing there in wait -- Sam, John, Henry, and Don -- gangly limbs akimbo in anticipation of jumping in to rescue. Surfacing with a sputter, water was tread as a fiery blue gaze was locked on all four of them. "Jus' as soon as I crawl outta dis, and y'better hope dere ain't no gators 'round, I'm kickin' all yer asses." With a grin, she kicked away from them, only to have the water disrupted as they went to test her threat. It was either be one of the boys, or go sit on the porch. She'd never been a watcher.

The one that was watching grinned again, stepping from the small beach to splash into the water as well, only to fall to her knees on solid concrete. Mouth parting slightly, eyes lifted to view the sign hanging over the building she was in front of. Petit Chatte. A small zydeco on the outskirts of Baton Rouge, she'd learned the hard way that good music and liquor wasn't all they served. Her first, and only, night singing there had been a roaring success; men and women alike rising to their feet to applaud. For a brief, shining moment, it had felt like the top of the world, only to be reminded it was a pit of Hell only minutes later. Never making it to her dressing room, and particularly over-exhuberant fan had cornered her in the hallway, grubby hands trying to force their way up the sequined skirt skimming her thighs. "C'mon, belle. I got a twenty dat says dis is what'cha be wantin'." The smell of rotgut and other, less than pleasant aromas nearly caused her to gag, and a knee went up to meet the area that seemed happier to be there than he did. "Fils de putain," was spat down his way, the back of her hand swiping under her mouth as she stalked away, leaving him to catch his breath and work through the pain. She'd never been for sale.

Turning her back to the scene, eyes lifted again, this time to view a wide expanse of night sky. A few feet away, the sound of bottles breaking and screaming voices filled the evening like a violent symphony, causing her chin to meet her shoulder as she recoiled. It was all too familiar. Crouched down beside the dilapidated house was two figures, the taller one with his arm around the smaller one. "S'gonna be okay, s'gonna be okay," was whispered over and over against her hair, strong hands smoothing comfortingly down her arms as they rocked. "Pa ain't gonna put'cha on no street, Cammy. Y'ain't no whore, y'better than dat. Y'hear?" A roar nearly shook the shack off of its questionable foundation, and the front door flew open with all the fury of a hurricane. Stalking to the edge of the porch, Harris St. John aimed a thick finger down to his children, expression pinched and eyes narrowed to the point of being closed. "Y'wanna be a hero, y'wanna try and protect 'er from whatcha knows gonna happen any damn way, then y'betta getcher ass inta town tomorrow an' find somethin' t'do dat'll cover both y'asses. Hear me, boy?" The younger man stared up to the man that had fathered them. "Dontcha worry none 'bout money, Harris, I'll be doin' what I need t'do. T'be a man. 'Milla ain't, and ain't neva gonna be no whore. Go back t'yer bottle." Small hands tugged frantically at Sam's sleeves, only to be disregarded as he sank back down next to her. Grunting, Harris turned back around to go into the house, slamming the door shut behind him. She'd never been unprotected.

Eyes closing to block out the scene, hands lifted to cover her face as she sank down to the floor of the funhouse-- body hunching over in a pitiful display. Shadows bled away from their corners to reenact a makeshift dance around her, invisible fingers pulling at her from all directions. A voice slithered through the building, like the wind flowing in through a crack in the floor, and when her gaze lifted, there wasn't any fear. No trepidation, no hesitance, no anger. "What did you think of my little ssshow?" The smile wasn't seen, but it was audible, the tugging to her person stopping shortly after the question. Staring at the far wall for a moment, as if mulling over an answer, her chin angled around to stare directly at the black ooze form sitting beside her. "... I appreciate it.." Nodding with that, a very small smile flaring to life, she pushed up to her feet and exited the building; leaving the nightmare behind to wonder what she meant.

The sound of carousel music washed over her again -- childrens' laughter bobbing on the breeze like a runaway balloon -- and when her gaze lifted from the ground... there was a smile. The one thing she'd been shown just now, amid all the memories -- good and bad -- was simply... she survived. No matter what, no matter who, no matter where, she survived. Tossing a glance over her shoulder, hands tucked comfortably into her pockets; a jaunty whistle starting up as she began walking to the front gates.


*I don't care if she's an American Idol!

<font color="#528442" size="1">[ October 25, 2005 01:28 AM: Message edited by: vintage faith ]</font>

[cajun_songbird]

"What do you mean you can't feel it anymore?"

There was a pause on the other end.

"Just that. The thread Des gave me, every time I try to reach out using it, it comes up empty. Like your nightmare vanished."

Her own pause.

"How's that even possible? I mean, it was hell bent on .. It..."

Words trailing off, the only sound for several long minutes was breathing from each, respective person.

"Cam, if I knew exactly what happened, I'd tell you. Did Des barter a deal? Did it say anything to you that last time, about giving up?"

"No, noth--" One final pause. ".. I'll call you back."

Call disconnected, Cam dropped her phone to the bed, beside her, and fell back. Hands covering her face, she scoured her mind for any sort of hint or clue as to why her Bukker decided to vanish. Brows furrowed, arms falling to rest on either side of her, and a thoughtful look was given to the ceiling. The only thing out of the ordinary that she could think of -- well, out of the ordinary for this place -- was Oliver when he left. When he usually talked, it was like he was singing the words he spoke-- the one always musical, even in anger. The way he sounded that night had been an almost flat monotone, as if it took effort to put any inflection on the words.

Shooting into an upright position, her hand patted around on the bed for the phone, and redial was hit quickly. Before it could ring twice, the End button was pressed. What was she going to say? If Oliver had done anything -- with this .. friend of his -- it was all over now. The nightmare was gone, he was gone, and there was simply .. life. Fingers inching up over her face, a heavy sigh was loosed. Everything had gotten fucked six ways from Tuesday. Hands dropping enough as to where she could look at her knuckles, the bruised appendages wiggled absently. They had already scabbed over and were now on their merry way to Healing Land thanks to the salve Nath had given her. As well, the bruise on her jaw was muted down to an ugly yellowish brown-- easily covered with a bit of concealer.

Grant and Ella padded their way quietly into the room, making their presence known with a bit of meowing before they hopped up onto the bed. Queen and King of the castle. Shaking her head in amusement, the phone was grabbed again, but before it could make it onto the charger, its shrill ring filled the room. Staring at the white contraption for a few seconds, she blinked back to reality and answered with a customary, "What?"

"Look, before you hang up on me, we want you to know that everyone's sorry for what happened, and Jay feels like a total jackass for hitting you like that. We didn't think you were gonna jump in the mid--" Brian never got the chance to finish what he was saying, or get to the point he was trying to make, because Cam interrupted brusquely. "I really don't give a fuck. I'm mad at ya'll right now, and callin' me repeatedly is just gonna make me more pissed. I'll fuckin' call you if I wanna talk. Until then.." Click. The anger was too fresh-- mingling with feelings of betrayal. Even when her life was falling to shambles, she'd been there for them. That band had been her life five days a week, and it all had been quick to throw away.

Too much had happened in such a short span of time. It felt like there wasn't any time to get over one episode before the other started. It was enough to drive a normal broad insane. It was pushing her closer and closer to that edge she kept shying away from. Flumping down heavily onto the couch, a brief lean forward had her bourbon glass and the remote to the radio in hand. When it was cold outside, and there was nothing else to do ( and you wanted to forget some things that didn't need remembering ), there was nothing like a little booze and Frankie. Eyes squinting, the remote was aimed at the radio, and a click later, the smooth voice of Sinatra washed through the room.

It's quarter to three,
there's no one in the place 'cept you and me.
So set 'em up Joe,
I got a little story I think you outta know

We're drinking my friend,
to the end of a brief episode.
So make it one for my baby,
and one more for the road

I know the routine,
put another nickel in that there machine.
I'm feeling so bad,
Won't you make the music easy and sad

I could tell you a lot,
but you gotta to be true to your code.
So make it one for my baby,
and one more for the road.

You'd never know it,
but buddy I'm a kind of poet.
And I've got a lot of things I wanna say,
and if I'm gloomy, please listen to me,
'til it's all, all talked away.

Well, that's how it goes,
and Joe I know you're gettin' anxious to close.
So thanks for the cheer,
I hope you didn't mind my bending your ear.

But this torch that I found,
it's gotta be drowned,
Or it soon might explode.
So make it one for my baby,
and one more for the road.

With Christmas coming up, everyone was running around with merriment on their faces, all too eager to plan up some fabulous surprise for the ones they loved. All Cam could do was offer over her credit card to the bland faced salespeople and hope her friends liked what they were getting. There was no joy in the holiday; just the fervent prayer that it'd be over soon. Having received a phone call just the night before, she could take comfort in the fact she wouldn't be completely out of work until after the first of the year. It always paid to have a friend of a friend that knew a band currently without a lead set of pipes.

Hunkering back against the red upholstery, the bourbon was lifted occasionally for a sip-- every so often, a lyric or two sang to the multitude of cats running about like they owned the joint. Smothering a smile against the glass' rim, eyes rolled up to level on the ceiling. "So make it one more for my baby, and one more for the road," exhaled on a whisper. It had been a long year, and the one coming up didn't look too promising. "Here's looking at you, kid," saluted to the air.

( "One for My Baby (And One More for the Road)" by F. Sinatra )

[cajun_songbird]

<center>Breathe in right away, nothing seems to fill this place.
I need this every time, take your lies get off my case.
Someday I will find a love that flows through me like this.
This will fall away, this will fall away.

You're getting closer to pushing me off of life?s little edge.
Cause I'm a loser and sooner or later you know I'll be dead.
You're getting closer, you're holding the rope, I'm taking the fall.
Cause I'm a loser, I'm a loser, yeah.

This is getting old, I can't break these chains that I hold.
My body?s growing cold.
There?s nothin' left of this mind or my soul.
Addiction needs a pacifier, the buzz of this poison is taking me higher.
This will fall away, this will fall away.

You're getting closer, to pushing me off of life?s little edge.
Cause I'm a loser and sooner or later you know I'll be dead.
You're getting closer, you're holding the rope and I'm taking the fall.
Cause I'm a loser.

( loser : three doors down )

----</center>

She could feel the life rolling in from the direction of the city, and a hooded gaze slid across to the lights twinkling on the horizon. It was like the ebbing of waves, reaching for the shore and just as quickly pulling back into the black void from where it came. A creature of the night, she might not be according to literal translations of the term, but midnight was her noon. The dusky rose of dawn served as a sunset, putting an end to the life she knew and transforming it into something almost unrecognizable, even after months of routine. Elbows draped over the wrought iron of the railing she was leaning against, a foot kicked out to tap idly against one of the ornate designs holding the structure together.

Two years ago, she'd been out there with the rest of them. Laughing, listening to the tinkling of glasses, and relaxing to the sultry sounds of the blues that she herself didn't have to sing. Simply enjoying the life she knew, the best she knew how, with people of the same mind set. Those types were few and far between now, all fading away into the mundane that served as reality. Fingers twining together loosely, a more pronounced lean was taken-- that blue-violet stare sliding down to the pavement below. Back home, that pavement wouldn't simply be staring back up at her. Any time of the day or night, there'd be someone down there. A wandering bum, a lovesick couple, a group of friends staggering their way home after a night in the Quarter.

It was like a switch had been thrown within her. All the things that had seemed so direly important back then didn't merit the consideration to even call it a memory. Night after night-- gig after gig in some dive that paid peanuts. Given the choice between that life and the one she led now, the canary would have no regrets in saying she was content with the now. Home was missed, of course. Not the place where she'd been born, but the city that had given her life. Recreating her like some phoenix ( though not as lovely as Charlie ) from the ashes of spent cigarettes and empty whiskey glasses-- the smeared recollection of yelled catcalls, sequins catching the spotlights, and microphones that split the crowd with the occasional feedback.

A smile touched at the corner of her unpainted mouth, and the railing was abandoned. It hadn't snowed in a couple of days, but the chill ( understandably ) cut like a knife through butter after the sun disappeared. Thumbs went back to hook into the pockets of her jeans-- bare feet hardly making any sound as she padded into the living room. Sidestepping around the Cat Pack -- who were looking her way curiously, as if sensing something was amiss -- she scissored at the waist to scruff absently behind Ella's ear. The only light in the whole apartment was cast from the small lamp sitting beside her couch, and in darkness, hands went out at her sides to feel along the wall as she meandered towards the bedroom.

A year ago, the quiet emptiness would've bothered her. Worry would've been clouding her mind like a dense fog on a cold morning, obscuring the woman from seeing anything beyond what was directly in front her. Now, it was appreciated. It was alright to be alone, as long as you came to terms with the fact that it wasn't the end of the world. A couple of months of therapy had finally gotten that notion to sink in and stick. People here and there in her life -- at school, at work, at rehearsals -- had commented on the fact that she seemed different. Reserved, but not in the way she had been. It wasn't a fear of emotion that brought about the calm, almost unfeeling exterior. In fact, there was no fear, what so ever. For the first time in her life, she was able to look in the mirror and smile, knowing that the person staring back at her... was going to be just fine.

... and the nay-sayers said that miracles didn't happen anymore.


All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.
edgar allan poe

[cajun_songbird]

Cam's apartment had been turned into a makeshift rehearsal studio-- couch, coffee table, arm chairs shoved to the other side of the room, making way for a drum kit, some amps, a few speakers, and a lot of happy musicians. With the help of the drummer, bassist, and horn players, they were able to get the Steinway out there with the rest, without scuffing the hardwood floors.

Hoisting up the piano bench, she and Brian lugged the thing to set at the piano. Making sure everything was arranged like it should be, and all the equipment was hooked up properly, a tap or two was given to her Shure -- the one Des had given her -- to test the feedback. Squinting a little at everyone, a short nod was given-- instruments taken up and everyone fanning out to wherever they felt most comfortable.

The intro of the song was played carefully-- a pure piano opening; Cam hunched slightly over the keys as her fingers pulled out the notes. It had been a really long time since it was just her and the guys. No club to perform for, no customers looking at them expectantly. Just them, the music, and their enjoyment of it. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as it neared the microphone-- blue violets shifting over to Brian, making sure he was ready.

The canary was a different person when she was singing. All the stress in the world was left behind, making her seem younger. More relaxed. There was nothing outside of the groove that could come in and mess anything up. Here, in the midst of these moments, she was in control of any and everything that happened-- from the chords of the piano, to the tone of her voice, to the accompaniment backing her up.

Husky alto, silk wrapped gravel, flowed like honey from her throat-- the words transformed into something tangible. Touchable, in a way. Eyes went half mast-- fingers sure and steady against the ivories, and her cheek just barely touching the cool metal of the microphone.

"She got out of town,
on the railway, New York bound.
Took all except my name,
another alien on Broadway.
There's some things in this world
you just can't change.
Some things you can't see
until it gets too late.

Baby, baby, baby,
when all your love is gone.
Who will save me from all
I'm up against out in this world?
Maybe, maybe, maybe,
you'll find something
that's enough to keep you.
But if the bright lights don't receive you,
you can turn yourself around and come on home."

Leaning up slightly, a look was flicked aside, and the boys kicked into gear.

"I got a hole in me now.
Yeah, I got a scar I can talk about.
She keeps a picture of me,
in her apartment in the city,
Some things in this world,
man, they don't make sense,
Some things you don't need,
until they leave you.
and they're things that you miss, you say--

Baby, baby, baby,
when all your love is gone.
Who will save me from all
I'm up against out in this world?
Maybe, maybe, maybe,
you'll find something
that's enough to keep you.
But if the bright lights don't receive you,
you can turn yourself around and come on home."

Pushing away from the piano, Brian stepped up to his own microphone-- eyes half mast and the guitar doing just as much singing as he did.

"Let that city take you in.
Let that city spit you out.
Let that city take you down.
For God's sake turn around."

Abandoning the mic and its stand, he half turned on his heel and walked a little ways out into the living room, fingers deftly strumming the guitar like a lover, coaxing out the solo like you'd coax a woman. Not quite hard and not quite soft. Head rocking slightly with the music, Cam kept alternating her gaze between Bri and the rest of the guys, a half smile lurking at the corners of her mouth. It wasn't so much out of amusement, as out of pure enjoyment. Freedom.

When the last chords finally died away, a full blown grin erupted and the piano bench was abandoned. Brian had just enough time to swing his guitar to the side, fingers adjusting the strap before she threw her arms around him. This was also the first time she'd played with him since the whole punching incident, so it was sort of a double-happy-moment. Pulling back just enough to look him in the eye, her head cocked, and--

"I'll see ya'll guys Thursday at rehearsal."


( bright lights / matchbox 20 )

[cajun_songbird]

<center></center>


Hell of an angel,
skin that shines like pearl.
Eyes that make your soul bleed,
innocent and sweet.
Your friends surely agree,
like candy she's a real treat.
But sugar's far from calm,
I don't mean to alarm.
By the time you blink,
the shit kicks in.

I'm walkin' up the stairs,
my heart's beating fast.
Following her legs,
to her thighs,
to her yeah, yeah, yeah.

I went to bed with an angel,
at least that's what she said.
But as she tore off her dress,
Lord I must confess.
I got the devil's daughter,
I got the devil's daughter in my bed.

Like a knife at my throat,
I like the way that she gropes.
Her curves make my blood swim my veins.
Her pain comes in doses,
till you're one step closer,
then you're completely insane.
Hung by a halo and stabbed by horns,
then she'll tell you they're both the same.

( devil's daughter / silvertide )

[cajun_songbird]

<center></center>

What if I wanted to break?
Laugh it all off in your face,
what would you do?
What if I fell to the floor?
Couldn't take this anymore.
What would you do?

Come break me down.
Bury me, bury me.
I am finished with you.

What if I wanted to fight?
Beg for the rest of my life.
What would you do?
You say you wanted more.
What are you waiting for?
I'm not running from you.

Come break me down.
Bury me, bury me.
I am finished with you.
Look in my eyes.
You're killing me, killing me.
All I wanted was you.

I tried to be someone else,
but nothing seemed to change.
I know now, this is who I really am inside.
Finally found myself fighting for a chance.
I know now, this is who I really am.

Come break me down.
Bury me, bury me.
I am finished with you.
Look in my eyes.
You're killing me, killing me.
All I wanted was you.
Come break me down.
Break me down.

What if I wanted to break?


( 30 seconds to mars : the kill )