Build. Destroy.

When the fuck did I become so insecure without a drink in my hand, I wondered to myself as I emptied the room temperature beer from the bottom of the plastic cup in to my mouth. I squished the cup in one hand and launched it at the head of some kid who was giving out hits in the pit harder than he could take them. His tiny, vegan body, was being tossed back and fourth between kids twice his size and maybe even twice his age. I shook my head and glanced toward the stage. I didn't know the names or faces of the guys that stared down on the crowd, sweating and screaming. They jumped around the stage like caged monkeys. I thought for sure that there would be some one there that I recognized. But just like every where else in the city the faces were all strange, young, completely intimidated. They didn't hold eye contact for more than a moment. They didn't respond when I nodded or helped them up from the floor when the pit was too much.

A fight broke out in the middle of the pit. The vegan kid was getting his face slammed by some guy in a Crass t-shirt and a Black Flag tattoo. The vegan's nose began to bleed immediately. No one bothered to help him out, to stop him. The kids pushed and shoved each other around, trying to avoid the confrontation. I turned back to the bar, ordered another beer and wondered what the hell I was doing there.

The lead singer jumped off the stage, leaving his guitar behind. He pushed himself into the crowd and pulled the vegan kid from his beating. The singer took the boy onto the stage and shoved him out of the way. I watched the kid collapse, holding his hand to his nose while the band played on. I turned back to the bar tender and asked for some ice in a cup. He looked at me for a long moment, judging me intentions before handing it over. I made my way through the kids, elbowing any backs that threatened to knock the beer out of my hand. When I made it to the side of the stage I waved the kid over. He stared at me, not moving, while the blood dripped onto the front of his shirt that read "Passion Over Fashion". He shuffled himself closer when I displayed the cup of ice by holding it to my nose. He took it from me without a thank you and pressed it against his swelling face.

A few girls collide into me with screams when the crowd surged unexpectedly in their direction. My beer was knocked off the stage and all down my skirt and bare leg. I swore and pushed the girls away from me. I could feel them staring at me, glaring at me, as I walked away, headed toward the exit. The music had stopped. The crowd was clapping and cheering. The bartenders received a serge of people. I'd had enough. I didn't know where I was going to go, but I had the get the hell out of there. I was at least four years older than most of those kids. I couldn't stand feeling that way, ancient and terrible. It was a huge reminder of the way I promised myself things would never be again. It was like the days before Eddie, the days when I felt like everything was pointless. I couldn't remember when it started to feel that way again. It wasn't just that night, back in Vaughn. It had been creeping up on me. That night just confirmed it. I needed to get the fuck out of Vaughn before I did something ridiculous.

"I know you," someone said touching my arm. I glanced to the left to see the leader singer standing next to me. There were creases around his mouth and eyes. He looked at least five years older than me. He could have been younger. It was hard to tell those days. I didn't even know why I tried to guess. He smile, exposing his crooked teeth and asked, "Did you tour with T.R.S?"

I had no clue who he was, but if he knew me that's all that mattered. I nodded and turned myself toward him, waiting to see what he had to say next.

"I bought their shirt just so I could talk to you."

"Oh," I said, still waiting.

"You blew me off."

I laughed.

"Do you remember me?"

"Nope."

"You blow off a lot of dudes, don't you?"

I shrugged. I didn't know if I did or not. I hadn't even noticed him. There was nothing familiar about his face.

"Where are you going?" He asked me.

"Home."

"We need a place to crash."

"Is that why you came up to me?" I asked with a glare of annoyance. I would have offered up the apartment if I'd known, but it was bullshit that came first, the story, the flirting. I was inclined to tell him to fuck off. But I was sober and I didn't feel like drinking alone.

"Not entirely."

"You guys will have to sleep on the floor and I'm not cooking breakfast in the morning," I told him.

I waited out front, smoking the last cigarette in my pack while they loaded their shit into the van. It was barely one am. There was plenty of time to get wasted and that was my full intention. It was starting to rain, but I stood against the brick wall, just waiting patiently. I wondered if my roommate would be home. If she happened to be the guys would be out of a place to stay. I would be out of a place to stay. She hadn't said she was staying at her boyfriend's, but the longer I spend there the less she did.

"Hey, let's go," the leader singer called out. But when I got to the van I noticed it was full. He patted his lap and told me, "You're gonna have to sit right here."

The van smelled of marijuana and body odour. The ash tray was over flowing, but I shoved my cigarette into it anyhow. The singer, who told me his name was Vance, ran his hand up and down my thigh, which was still sticky from the beer. I didn't stop him until his fingers attempted to slide underneath my skirt. I took his hand in mine and turned to face him. Our lips were so close I could feel his breath on my my chin. I stare him straight in the eye. Just as he was about to kiss me I bent his fingers back. He didn't cry out, merely flinched. I turned my face away, let go and said, "It's the building on your right. Right here."

I waited in the lobby of the building while they gathered the things they would need for the night. The security guard watched me with hesitation. He knew I was paying to live there, but his eyes told me he didn't have to like it. I didn't like it much either, but there was no point telling him that. A look of panic crossed his face when the four greasy, angry looking boys barreled into the building, glancing around, impressed. It was obvious they thought I was a scam, a joke. I probably had a 9-5 and a husband who was away on business. I could see the way the drummer shook his head that he was re-thinking the entire deal. In the elevator Vance confirmed my suspicions.

"How does a merch girl end up loaded?"

"I don't have money."

"I find that hard to believe," the bassist, Carl, said while spitting a yellow wad of phlegm onto the elevator carpet.

I shrugged and said, "Believe what you want."

We got off the elevator and headed to my door. I opened it and let them inside. Everything was quiet. All the lights were off. She wouldn't be home. I was grateful for that. I kicked my boots against the wall, adding to the already scuffed white paint. The guys did the same and walked their dirt socks across the cream coloured carpet.

"You're still gonna deny your money."

"Seriously, dude," I rolled my eyes, "I'm renting a room. Can you leave it alone?"

All the guys, except Vance, tossed themselves onto the leather sofa and love seat. They put their feet up on the glass-top coffee table and pushed the Canadian Living magazines onto the floor.

"You're full of shit," Vance said, coming up behind me as I pulled vodka from the fridge. He wrapped his arm around my chest and pulled my body back against his. He put his lips to my neck and kissed it twice before biting on my shoulder. I let his hands wander over my body as I uncapped the vodka and brought it to my lips.

"Anyone want a drink?" I called out. They all answered yes. I pulled away from Vance and headed into the living room with the bottle and some cups. None of them asked for ice or anything to mix it with. I pour the vodka into the cups and watched it disappear.

"We invited a few girls," the drummer said. I had figured as much.

"Show me your room," Vance said, sliding his hand up my skirt and pinching my ass.

"My vinyl and CDs are under the TV if you guys want to play something," I told them as I headed down the hallway with Vance in tow. I pushed open the door and turned on the light. I kicked a shirt away from the door and said, "Satisfied."

"Not yet." He moved around me and into the bedroom. His eyes stared at the pictures on the wall. His fingers ran over the collection of make-up that was spread across the top of my dresser. I wanted to grab him by his tattooed elbow and drag him from my space. It was my only place. He wasn't the first I'd brought there, but he was the only one to make himself at home. He was the only one who turned to look at me and asked, "You had it all. Now what?"

I went to walk out, leave him in their with my memories, with my intimate self, but he wrapped his arm around my neck and pulled me against him. His breathing was laboured. His hands were sweating. I could feel them, so clammy, as they slipped beneath my shirt and ran across my stomach. I struggled, but he kicked the door shut with her foot and shove me against it. My cheek collided with so much force that my eyes began to water. I could feel the skin just below my eye getting hot and swelling. He held me in place with his hip bones while his hands pulled my shirt over my head and then his. I put one palm between my burning cheek and the door. I kept the other hand on the knob. He thrust into me so hard that I couldn't stop myself from wincing. He said nothing, just panted and groaned in my ear. I closed my eyes and waited for it to be over.

Had I thought he'd be different? Maybe he'd ask my name. He didn't care. They never did, I told myself as he pulled out and muttered, "I need a smoke." I used my underwear to clean myself off as he pulled up his pants and searched the pockets for his pack. I grabbed a single cigarette from my night stand and handed it to him. He said nothing as he walked out of the room and joined his friends, who were listening to Bad Brains on the record player.

I kicked the door shut and collapsed onto my bed. The room was spinning. I hadn't even noticed I was that drunk. It was hard to focus on the dent in the wall. I hung one leg over the bed, hoping to ground myself, but the spinning wouldn't stop.

As I threw up in the trash can I could hear the guys laughing in the living room.