Chad gazed out of the window, looking at the dark, rainy night. The weather kind of reflected his mood. He was still crying, and just couldn't seem to stop himself. How could this happen to him? He began to wonder what he had left. His parents had never been too involved, so they were already out of the list. His band was what he'd considered family, so without them, he felt as though no cared. To top that off, he had lost the love of his life. He began to feel rage towards himself. Emma went through the most traumatic evening of his life because of him. He basically gave her a scar that would never heal. What kind of man was he to do such a thing? He couldn't shake the feeling that he deserved all of this sorrow.
Minutes turned to hours but no one came to comfort him, making him feel even more unloved. His parents had called the hospital to see if he was alright, but when the doctor asked Chad if he wanted to speak, he just lied in his bed, motionless and speechless.
A day passed, and the storm dragged into the next day. Chad had not moved, talked, or ate for 24 hours. Then, the door opened, and a wet, hooded figure moved in. He had a long box in his hand. Upon entering, he closed the door behind him.
The sight of another person actually coming to see Chad amazed him. For the first time in a day, he sat up.
"Who....who...are...you?" Chad muttered with difficulty.
"Don't recognize me?" the man said as he took off his hood.
Chad scanned the man. Tall, muscular, with short black hair and dark eyes. It was his brother, Roger.
"Sorry I couldn't get here earlier. You know I go to school in California, so getting a flight all the way to New York isn't easy." Roger took a look out the window. "And this storm didn't make it any easier. You look alright for someone that just got shot. Your doctors say you're healing up rather nicely. But are you alright? Not physically, I mean, Jake explained his little trip to see you."
"I don't want to live. No one cares about me. No one even came to visit besides you. Jake just came to describe the hell my life has turned into. I lost my band, my love, everything that matters. There's nothing left."
Roger sighed. "Listen kid," he began. "Things have took a turn for the worst, I realize that. But killing yourself won't make things better. You gotta keep your head up. So what if your band abandoned you? Screw them. You gotta prove to them and yourself that you don't need them. And about that chick, you love her, you work hard for her. So what if Jake said you can't have her."
"That helps," Chad said. "But I still feel pain."
"I know what you need." Roger reached out for the long box and opened it. He pulled out a Stratocaster. "I bought this for you," he said as he handed the guitar to him. He pulled an amp out of the box and plugged everything up.
"Now what?" Chad asked
"Play your heart," Roger instructed.
Roger listened closely to Chad's improvised riff. He felt the pain and suffering through the notes. He wanted to help Chad.
"Maybe California is where you belong" Roger mumbled.