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All We Are is Memories	By : Berlin Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Avenged Sevenfold Views: 1159 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Avenged Sevenfold. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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I declared our 12 hour bus ride from Salt Lake City to Los Angeles my first and last experience with the wonderful Greyhound company. The bus was dirty, the seats were hard, the box they call a toilet in the back reeked to high heaven, and the creepy guy across the aisle kept looking me up and down. Sign me up for the Frequent Flyer club.
Around 3 a.m. we stopped at an IHOP for “breakfast” but I think it was just so the bus driver could run into the bathroom and put back his hidden flask of whiskey. Honestly, who eats breakfast at 3 a.m.? Irregardless, I was thrilled to be off the bus for the whole 20-minutes the foul-smelling man gave us. I hadn’t slept at all… I’m not sure whether that was due to the horrifically uncomfortable seats or the fact that I kept replaying and reanalyzing the events of that night over and over again in my head, always with the same results. I shouldn’t have left. This was a bad idea.
I don’t even know why I felt the way I did… just hours earlier my gut was telling me that I had to go with Johnny. There was no way I could let him go to California by himself. But now it was like my conscious had a change of heart… or it had “seen the light” because all I could think about was how this was quite possibly the worst decision of my life and that somehow I would end up regretting it.
So for the first time in my life, I stopped listening to my conscious. Whether it was the right or wrong thing to do, I had made my decision and would have to live with it, for better or worse.
“You sure you don’t want anything to eat?” Johnny mumbled through a mouth full of French Toast.
I cringed, my nose wrinkling slightly as I caught a glimpse of his partially chewed food. “Ew – no. How can you eat at three in the morning anyways? It’s too early… or late…”
He shrugged, swallowing his bite and taking a sip of his orange juice. “I’m a growing boy Faith. I need my sustenance!” Laughing, I reached over and stole his orange juice, drinking it quickly before he could take it back. I was probably going to regret that move a couple of hours from now when my bladder is about to explode and I’m forced to face the “bathroom” on the bus.
Speaking of the bus, the bus driver staggered out from the bathroom and motioned for everyone that it was time to leave again. I slapped a couple of bills on the table to pay for the French Toast and followed my step-brother out of the restaurant. He paused and looked at the obviously intoxicated driver wearily. “Wonder how much he drank…”
“I don’t know…” I replied, fully aware of how shaky my voice sounded.
“Faith-“ Johnny looked over at me with understanding in his eyes, “we don’t have to get back on the bus if you don’t want to, if you’re worried I mean. We can get a hotel – catch another bus in the morning.”
Images flashed through my head – the bus careening off the highway, bursting into flames, rolling down a cliff, driving off the road – all of them with horrific endings. I didn’t want to get back on the bus, I didn’t want to be here (wherever “here” was), I didn’t want to do this anymore. I wanted to take Johnny back home and crawl into bed and pretend that this never happened.
But another bus ticket costs a lot of money and the chances of convincing him to come back home with me were slim to none.
“No, it’s fine. I’m sure he didn’t drink anything – he’s probably just some kind of defect or something… a weird limp, you know?”
He looked as if he didn’t believe me. Honestly, I didn’t believe me. But when he started walking towards the bus door once more, my feet fell into motion behind him, carrying me towards what had quickly become one of my worst nightmares.
I don’t know how he pulled it off, but we made it to our destination alive… alive AND in one piece. I think I kissed the ground the minute I stepped off of the dreaded vehicle, I honestly don’t remember – I had been awake for more than 24 hours once we finally reached California. The only thing I remember is Johnny grabbing my bag and pushing me into a waiting cab. And now I’m here.
Where’s here?? I don’t know, actually. I don’t even know what city I’m in, what hotel I’m in, what time it is, any of it. All I know is that I’m off that infernal bus. I hate the Greyhound… or as Johnny said somewhere in Hour 8 of our journey, “fuck the greyhound bus”. I think that was right after this 300 lb. guy spent almost 45 minutes in the bathroom, leaving the door hang wide open afterwards and allowing perhaps the foulest stench I have ever had the misfortune of smelling waft throughout the cabin of the bus.
I glanced at the red digitized letters of the alarm clock on the nightstand next to me. 7:30 p.m. What time had we arrived here? I think it was around 8 in the morning, meaning I had slept for 10 straight hours. Great… my sleeping pattern was going to be all screwed up for at least the next week. Rolling over to my side, I saw Johnny sitting next to me on the bed, entranced with whatever show was playing quietly on the TV.
“Hey,” I said, my voice still scratchy from my nap.
He looked over, a bit surprised at first. “Hey! You’re finally up. I thought you were going to sleep forever.”
“Nah… although I’m definitely not going to be sleeping at all tonight. So where are we?”
“Laguna Beach?”
“Laguna Beach??” I asked, shocked. I’m not idiot… California’s expensive as it is, but staying on the beach was just that much MORE expensive. “Why Laguna Beach??”
He shrugged, staring at the TV once more. “I know how you like the ocean… and I didn’t think you’d be too thrilled staying in the ghetto of L.A.”
I smiled, wanting to reach over and hug him for being so thoughtful… but we hadn’t really gotten to that point yet – the point where it doesn’t feel awkward to hug each other. So I settled for smiling at him appreciatively. “Thanks, Johnny.”
He smiled back at me. “No problem. I’m glad you’re here with me, Faith.”
“Me too…”
“So um,” he moved on, the conversation getting a little too emotionally involved, “do you wanna go down to the beach later? It’s nice and warm out.”
“Heck yeah!” I cried. He was right, I loved the beach.
Crap, why didn’t I bring my swimsuit?

The next couple of weeks actually passed by quite quickly. I was thankful for their speediness – it prevented me from dwelling too much about everything that was actually going on. It stopped me from thinking about my mom and the life I had left behind. Johnny loved California and the freedom it afforded him. And to be honest, I kind of liked it too. It was beautiful, the water was clear, the weather was always sunny and cheerful, and for the first time in my life I didn’t have responsibilities to attend to. I didn’t have to go to work & I didn’t have school assignments to constantly stress over. I had to admit it, this life really wasn’t that bad. But like I said, we were too busy to really stop and think about what we were doing. We were being stupid kids and loving every minute of it.

Our hotel wasn’t the nicest in the world – that was the only way we could afford it on the few thousand dollars that we brought with us. And we ate at Taco Ball almost every night… where else can you get full on $1.89? Most days, we slept in until at least 11:00 a.m., spent a good two hours just sitting at the beach or playing with the Frisbee that Johnny had stolen from a dog when its owners weren’t looking about a week ago, and walking in through the town as far as our feet could take us. It was nothing, absolutely nothing, but it was awesome all the same.
I’m only 18, just out of high school, yet somehow I had always felt at least 10 years older than my real age. I think I did that to myself too. My mother never pressured me to get good grades, be involved with every school activity known to man, apply to the best colleges in the state – it was all me and the pressure I put on myself. But now, it was like I was 18 again. Just 18…
The electronic “ding” of a buzzer sounded as Johnny and I entered the same record store we had been in 3 times already this week. I didn’t really see what was so cool about it, it was just a record store – a dirty, dim, smelly one at that. But for some reason, Johnny was infatuated with this place. I’m sure if I wasn’t here with him, he would hide out here every day.
“Hey Johnny, Faith. What brings you ‘round to my humble little store this beautiful afternoon?”
Johnny and I looked at each other before breaking out in laughter at the 20-something man behind the counter. You know there’s a slight obsession when the cashier knows us by name after being in the state for less than a month.
“Nuthin much, man,” Johnny replied coolly.
“Hey Trevor,” I said, smiling at the tanned, sandy-haired boy. He was what I had always imagined California boys looking like. Light, tousled hair, muscular frame, tanned skin, perfectly white teeth… he wasn’t too bad to look at. Although he reminded me of my boyfriend – the love of my life that I left at home. I missed Nat.
After grabbing a magazine off the display rack, I slumped into the worn sofa in the corner of the store and began flipping through the pages. I had never heard of the magazine before we arrived in California, it was… Alternative Press? Honestly, I wasn’t even mildly interested in thing – I didn’t like any of the bands they featured. Actually, I hadn’t even heard of any of the bands they wrote about. Well, they did mention Green Day once. I did know who they were. I actually bought their Dookie CD back when it came out. I was 13, I think? Probably somewhere around there. It was the CD to have back then. So knowing nothing about them, I bought it just so that I could have what everyone else had. Then I listened to it. No, Green Day definitely wasn’t my scene. I promptly went back to my Paula Abdul albums. But I knew Johnny and I knew he would be in this store, sorting longingly through the shelves and shelves of CD’s that he couldn’t afford. Thus, I needed something to pass the time. And this Alternative Press thing would suffice.
Trevor came over shortly after I sat down, taking a seat next to me and telling me about his Economics exam that he just flunked. He went to college somewhere around here – I never cared enough to ask where.
“You like Marilyn?” he asked, looking at me intently.
Who’s Marilyn? The only people in the store are me, him and Johnny. No girl named Marilyn. “Who?”
He smiled, pointing to the cover of my magazine. “Marilyn. Manson, ya know?”
I glanced down at the absolutely terrifying cover picture of a man with a white face, red hair and ghoulish looking eyes, wearing a cowboy hat and holding a gun. This was Marilyn? Who would name their son Marilyn?
“Uh, no.” I told him sheepishly, hoping to cover the fact that I had never heard of this man/woman before in my life.
“Dude, Marilyn’s the MAN!” Trevor yelled, apparently shocked at my answer.
He’s the man? He sure doesn’t look like a man to me.
Thankfully, the door buzzer came to my rescue. Trevor looked at my apologetically before getting up and telling me, “Sorry, Faith. I gotta take care of these people. I’ll be back in a sec.”
The customers that had just walked in brought a noise with them that crashed through the peaceful silence of the store. Not able to ignore it, I looked up, interested in seeing who was talking so loudly. It was almost like they were shouting… well, at the very least, they weren’t using their “indoor voices”. I smirked sadly to myself, remembering how often my mom tried to remind Johnny of that.
There were five of them, all dressed much in the same way as Johnny but not looking nearly as young as him. I guessed that they were around my age – just out of high school. Why had I thought that people in California would look normal. My version of normal. It was like I had expected everyone that lived in California to look like the millionaire film producers you see walking the red carpets, dripping with diamond jewelry, designer clothes and faked tans.
My heart picked up a beat or two as I saw them nearing Johnny, still talking animatedly with each other. I wanted to go over there and protect him somehow from these freakish creatures in black clothing and… were they wearing make-up?? But my fear superseded whatever motherly/big-sisterly instinct I had, leaving my frozen in place and watching with building terror as the men approached Johnny from behind, my brother enthralled with the CD he was head-banging too and not noticing the men approaching him.
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All We Are is Memories