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chapter eleven
" A sorrir
eu pretendo levar a vida,
pois chorando
eu vi a mocidade
perdida. "
( " Smiling
I intend to lead life,
because crying
I saw the youth
lost. " )
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NOW PLAYING: "O SOL NASCERÁ" ("THE SUN WILL BE BORN") by CARTOLA (1974)

+ content warning: Infidelity, alcoholism, drug addiction, Billy being an ass, Rory coping with what happened to her, PTSD

________

RORY: Since speaking out about what I've been through, I've been asked, "Why didn't you just say no?"

Why didn't. You just. Say. No.

As if I didn't say that over and over, as if I didn't scream and cry and have my mouth covered until I almost passed out. I was conditioned to believe that it was the only way people would listen to me. If I didn't struggle too much while a man pinned my arms behind my back and felt me up, he might listen to one of my song ideas. And maybe he wouldn't. But there was a chance that it could help.

People like Daryl Earlington — monsters like him — are immune to the word 'no.' They have been given everything for their entire lives and view the word as a challenge, a boundary to be pushed, not one to stay behind.

So when people ask, "Why didn't you just say no?" I say, "Why didn't they just stop?"

∴━━━ ✿ ━━━∴

THE ORIGINAL PLAN was not for Rory to go on the road with The Six for their SevenEightNine tour. It truly, honestly wasn't. But after Eddie and Warren had brought her home and cleaned the cuts on her face, the boys came to an unspoken agreement that they weren't letting her out of their sight anytime soon. Billy, Graham, and Karen had also agreed.

Originally, Rory was going to stay behind with Camila, and the two would keep each other company while the others traveled the country. They had plans to bake endless batches of cookies, teach each other dances from their native countries, and go out for drinks once in a while. Rory would work at the grocery store until her meeting with Walter next month to discuss future projects.

But now it's a matter of security. The band feels more comfortable having Rory surrounded by people and constantly moving cities in case Sticks comes by the studio (or, God forbid, their house, where he'll be met with a very angry Camila instead). And thus, Rory has one day to pack for the road.

It's also the same day that Camila announces her pregnancy to Billy. And the night they decide to get married.

It sends the entire band into a frenzy as they try to prepare for a last-minute celebration. Karen calls a minister that she somehow knows to officiate the wedding. Graham and Eddie spend the afternoon cleaning up the sad excuse of a backyard, then find a tent in the garage to set some tables under, using string lights to illuminate the space. When Karen hangs strips of aluminum foil in the trees, they catch the light in a manner that's almost dazzling.

Rory labors for ages to create a flower crown for the bride. It's something she and Abuela used to do together, first back in Colombia with wildflowers, and then in Hazelwood with ones from Abuela's garden. It is one of the only traditions that survived the move to the United States. As she works, threading the stems together, Rory can almost feel Abuela's soft hands covering her own, whispering instructions in her ear, just like she's six years old again.

In the end, their work is impressive for having such little time to prepare. A tapestry from Karen and Rory's bedroom makes a wonderful backdrop for the ceremony. It's where the happy couple stands, giddy over their new bond, when Warren attempts to take a picture using the last bit of film in Eddie's Polaroid.

"Guys, come on, we gotta take a photo," he says, trying to make Camila and Billy hold still.

The others stand off to the side, watching the ordeal in amusement. Rory is concerned if Warren is sober enough to be taking the picture.

"I can take it instead," she offers, half pleading that he'll agree and hand the camera over.

But when Warren sets his mind to something, it's almost impossible to change the course of his tracks, especially when his brain is muddled with... whatever he'd taken this time.

As expected, Warren dismisses her with a wave of his hand. "I've got it, Ro-Ro."

"Your lens cap is on," Camila tells him. She leans forward to remove it before nestling back into Billy's side, where he hugs her close.

"Alright. One, two, and three."

The flash goes off, momentarily blinding the couple, and the photo slowly begins to develop as it prints from the camera. Warren removes the picture and gives them a wink, mumbling something about it being the best photo ever taken.

Rory sits at one of the tables with a glass of whiskey later in the evening. She observes the party — her friends laughing and dancing, the toilet paper they'd used as streamers fluttering in the night breeze as it clings to the branches of trees, music playing from speakers unseen. And even though she's there amongst all of it, she still feels a certain disconnect. Like she's floating out of her body and looking down at everything without actually being a part of it.

Thus, the whiskey. She's hoping it might either bring her back down to earth or dull the strange out-of-body sensation enough that she forgets about it. But all it seems to be doing is making her throat burn. This is her second glass and it's not having the intended effect.

"You okay?"

Rory jumps with a start to see Graham in the chair next to her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, looking at her a bit too intently for her liking. She hadn't noticed him sit down and wonders how long he'd been observing her. By now, they've grown close enough that they can read each other's micro-expressions. How much had he been able to discern on her face when she wasn't paying attention?

"Mmm-hmm," she hums with a nod, turning her glass in a circle with her fingertips.

Graham eyes the drink. His bottom lip sucks into his mouth like he's deep in thought. Then,  he reaches forward, grabs it, and downs the rest of the whiskey like a shot.

Rory's mouth falls open in offense. "Hey!"

"I'm cutting you off," he says, placing the empty glass back on the table with a pointed thunk.

"It was my second drink."

"And you're tiny," he replies. "Alcohol runs through you way faster. Especially since you don't drink very often."

"I'm fine," she assures him. "Besides, it helps me forget about..." she gestures to her black eye and the cuts beneath it, "this."

Graham's eyes grow sad when she mentions the injury. Rory hasn't been keen on bringing it up, preferring to pretend it's not there even though dull pain shoots through her face every time she moves it. To hear her say this must feel like a punch to the gut. It's a reminder that, though they're celebrating the love and unity of two people they adore, there are much more troubling things happening around them. Darkness brewing just at the edges. Waiting to strike.

He extends a hand to her. "Come on. Your favorite song is playing."

Rory listens closely over the chatter. Eventually, the first few notes of Abba's new single, "Waterloo," greet her ears. Had she bought their second album as soon as it had been released in the States? Yes. So it must be her record that's playing right now.

But Rory's heart isn't keen on dancing. "I'm good just sitting here."

"Did I just hear Rory say she's going to sit during an Abba song?" Karen questions, displaying an exaggerated expression of shock as she approaches them. "Absolutely not. I won't accept that."

She'd just come from the direction that the record player is in. Had she chosen this album specifically to get Rory out of her sad slump?

This hypothesis grows stronger when Karen takes both of Rory's hands and lifts her to her feet, dragging her onto a space of open grass.

"'And I have met my destiny in quite a similar way,'" Karen sings along. She moves her arms dramatically, forcing Rory's to also sway, though her feet stay firmly planted on the ground in comparison to Karen's twisting. "'The history book from the shelf...'"

"Something about it repeating itseeeeeeellllfff!" Graham bursts in from Rory's right.

"WATERLOO!" both Karen and Graham shout, moving their limbs so wildly that Rory swings around in time with Karen's puppeteering. Graham's curls shake with every jump.

"Hey, Ro-Ro, it's your song!" Warren exclaims. He approaches the scene with a half-smile, his eyes flickering between the two people aggressively dancing and the one with unmoving feet.

"Warren, help us," Graham pleads, already breathless. "We're trying to get her to loosen up."

"Say no more."

He takes her from Karen and suddenly Rory's entire world is turning. Warren pulls her into his chest, spins her outward, and then yanks her back in, scream-singing butchered lyrics at the top of his lungs. He makes her twist and jump and twirl as the song continues on.

And, miraculously, Rory cracks a smile. Then she laughs, clinging onto Warren's shoulders because she's so dizzy and needs to take a breath. Colors and lights swirl together as they hold onto each other. But her chest is lighter than it had been before, and she finally feels like she's back in her body.

When her surroundings right themselves, she notices Camila watching them with a grin on her face.

∴━━━ ✿ ━━━∴

KAREN: At that point, Rory's safety was our number one priority. We wanted to keep an eye on her, yes— but also to make sure she wasn't just sitting in that house, stewing in her head the whole time we were gone.

WARREN: We wanted to bring life back into those pretty little eyes.

GRAHAM: At that point, all the guys and I knew about was the physical abuse from that specific day. We weren't aware of the... the rest. But I feel like we knew, deep down, that it wasn't a one-time thing. We were starting to reflect on the past few weeks and beginning to realize that she hadn't been herself for a while. But I don't think any of us could've imagined the... the extent of what really happened.

[He tries to open his mouth and say more, but no words come. Graham shakes his head instead as a signal he cannot discuss the subject further.]

∴━━━ ✿ ━━━∴

Tour life is absolutely wild.

Rory had grown used to constantly being busy, either attending the band's gigs, working on new songs, or putting in shifts at the grocery store. But nothing prepared her for what it would be like to be on tour without being a member of the band. Every night is filled with insanity, concert highs, drug highs, and parties that last until the early hours of the morning. But the rest of the day is surprisingly uneventful.

On the fifth morning of tour, Rory is sitting cross-legged on the asphalt of the parking lot with her back up against one of the van's tires. They're in Phoenix, so the ground is already close to scalding hot despite it only being six in the morning. The warm breeze flutters the pages of her songbook as she stares at it without blinking. How had lyrics used to come so easily to her? She used to finish a song in a day or two, but she's been struggling with this one since they set on the road. Not a single word has been written yet.

It's like a roadblock has been sitting in her brain. It was made worse by the release of the first single from The Black Veil two days ago— "Bloodshed", a Rory Original. When she'd spoken to Camila on the phone yesterday, she said that Walter informed her of several journalists who are interested in getting a quote about the album.

Rory had declined to comment.

Even though she's physically away from Sticks, it's like he's lurking around every corner. He visits her in dreams and turns them into nightmares. Sometimes she mistakes one of her friend's hands on her for his and goes into fight-or-flight mode. That man had taken away her sense of security, of feeling comfortable in her own body, and now he's also stolen her state of mind to songwrite— something that has been her outlet for most of her life.

Rory throws her sketchbook with a frustrated cry, crossing her arms as it lands face-down on the asphalt.

"What'd the book ever do to you?" Graham's voice asks.

Rory turns to see him emerging from the tour bus, still buttoning up a clean shirt. She's surprised that any of them are awake this early. Most of the band had stumbled back into the van at unknown hours in the night, waking Rory from her slumber in her seat with their clumsy steps and loud, drunken chatter.

"It won't magically produce a song for me, that's what," Rory replies shortly, glowering in the book's general direction.

Graham bends down to retrieve it and brushes the dirt from the pages, flattening out the ones that had gotten wrinkled or creased. She expects him to hand it back to her. However, he tucks it under his arm and says, "Let's get breakfast."

"Where?" Rory questions. "We haven't gotten the chance to explore."

He shrugs. "Let's walk around 'til we find a place."

She figures that it's a better idea than staring at a blank piece of paper until she slowly goes insane, so she allows him to pull her to her feet so they can start walking. Graham tells her stories from last night's party while they head closer to a main road with shops on either side. They've come up with a matchstick rule— each member has five matchsticks that they can give to whomever they want as an invite for the show's afterparty. Rory always has one since she's automatically invited. But last night, she'd given hers to a nice-looking blonde girl with instructions to give it to Karen when she arrived.

"Eddie almost broke a table, he was so messed up," Graham tells her. "He was trying to get Warren to pierce his ears so he could wear earrings like him. Karen just managed to stop them before Warren stabbed his earlobe with a random pin."

"Get with any girls?" Rory asks, elbowing him in the ribs teasingly.

"Not last night," he replies. "This one girl clearly wanted to sleep with me but she kept calling me Billy."

"You're the superior Dunne brother, anyway," she assures him.

"Aw, thanks, Ror. You're the superior Marquez sibling."

Rory goes quiet. They haven't talked about her family in ages. Since the police incident years ago, her parents have gone radio silent, and she hasn't heard from Mateo, either. They don't have the landline number for the house or their address in Laurel Canyon, but they could easily ask Mrs. Dunne for it. Or any of the other boys' parents. But that would require them to care about reaching out.

Maybe Rory had fooled herself into thinking they might apologize. Say they were proud of her for chasing her dreams and that they were sorry for how they treated her at home. Maybe... they aren't sorry at all.

Graham and Rory find a diner quickly and become enticed by the truly American smell of cheap coffee, fry grease, and pancakes. The jukebox plays "Bennie and the Jets" by Elton John. Coffee mugs appear in front of them almost as soon as they slide into a booth, and Rory begins dumping copious amounts of creamer and sugar into hers, much to Graham's dismay.

Upon seeing him cringe, Rory glances up at him through her brows. "I know you tried cocaine once. You can't look at me like that."

Graham pulls a face that says, Fair enough.

He orders a humongous breakfast plate with a variety of food while Rory sticks to French toast with strawberries and whipped cream. This time, the waitress's eyes linger on Graham as if she recognizes him but can't place her finger on it. She opens her mouth as if to ask a question, but ultimately decides against it and returns to the kitchen to place their orders.

A small group of young teenage boys crowd around the jukebox, arguing over which song to pick first. One of them groans, "Not this one again, Dennis."

The familiar opening notes of "Bloodshed" drift through the speakers.

Rory tenses, her fingers freezing around her mug. The bruise around her eye has mostly faded by now, but the tissue underneath is still sensitive when touched, a sign that even though it's not visible anymore, the wound still aches. Now it pulses with pain as fresh as if she's back in that recording booth with Sticks, glaring at him as he backpedals and rakes his hands through his hair.

Graham places his hand on top of hers. His touch brings her back to the present, though her stomach still twists and churns enough that she wonders if she'll be able to eat after all.

Eager to drown out the music and change the subject, she asks, "Do you like tour so far?"

Graham takes the hint. "Yeah," he says with a laugh. "I love it. We have people singing our songs back to us in the crowd, you know? People who are there to see us. Not just watching us play because we have a gig at the bar they happen to be at."

"And the parties."

"And the parties. The parties are fun. You can get so many drugs when you're a rockstar." He grins widely, causing Rory to roll her eyes. He kicks her foot under the table. "What about you? D'you like being on tour?"

"I feel like a groupie without sexual benefits," Rory answers.

"I mean, sexual benefits can be arranged—"

Rory kicks him this time, much harder than he had, her shoe striking his shin with such ferocity that he yelps, causing an elderly woman in the booth across from them to shoot him a glare.

It turns out that Graham is almost too right about how easy their access to drugs and alcohol becomes. What he hadn't foreseen were the consequences of those things.

Rory and Karen stand outside of the men's bathroom weeks later, listening to Graham violently vomit during a bad trip from eating too many edibles. Karen cringes at the horrible retching sounds they can hear through the door. This has been ongoing for twenty minutes with no sign of it stopping or slowing down anytime soon.

"I'm not sure how much longer I can listen to this," Rory says, wrinkling her nose.

"Agreed," Karen says. The girls are about to head somewhere else in the venue when Billy's frantic voice echoes back to them.

"Come on, man. We have soundcheck in ten minutes!" he exclaims. "You need to sober up now."

Those words are funny coming from Billy, who usually winds up drunk by noon every single day, and probably is intoxicated right now.

In response, Graham heaves his guts up again.

Karen mumbles what both girls are thinking. "There's no way he can play like this."

Footsteps echo on the tile within the bathroom, coming closer until the door whisks open to reveal Billy. His bloodshot eyes search wildly until he finds Rory leaning against the wall.

"Do you know Graham's parts?" he asks.

That's a dumb question. "Yeah, of course. I've only heard them eighty thousand times."

"Great. See you at soundcheck."

Rory almost falls over, her mouth opening in protest, only for Billy to close the door again and prevent her from doing so. She resorts to staring helplessly at Karen. "What?"

"It's a good idea," she says. "You do know how to play all of our songs and you know all of our lyrics. We can't play without a guitarist."

"Karen," Rory says, her tongue moving awkwardly in her mouth because it's gone completely dry, "I can't perform. The most I have played in front of is you guys. I hate when people stare at me. I don't look like a rockstar. I—"

Karen places her hands on Rory's shoulders and looks down into her eyes. "You are amazing. You can do this. Billy wouldn't be asking you to step in if he didn't trust you, right?"

Rory's mouth opens and closes uselessly.

"We have time between soundcheck and the show," Karen continues. She's perfectly calm in comparison to Rory's absolute panic. "I can help you get more... rockstar-ed up if you want."

Rory nods with wide, desperate eyes. "Please rockstar me up."

∴━━━ ✿ ━━━∴

GRAHAM: Oh God, that show.

BILLY: I was pretty calm, given the circumstances.

EDDIE: Billy was freaking out. I mean, absolutely losing his shit. This was a huge disruption of our routine, and while our first few shows weren't perfect, we were a pretty well-oiled machine by then. Throwing Rory out onstage when she was clearly petrified... well, none of us knew how it would go.

∴━━━ ✿ ━━━∴

Soundcheck helps to dispel some of Rory's nerves, but definitely not all of them. She adjusts the strap of Graham's guitar so it fits her (he normally doesn't let anyone else play his instrument, but he'd made an exception for her as his best friend) and realizes that the lights are so bright she can barely see past the front row. Her instrumentals are fine, though a bit hesitant in comparison to the steady confidence with which Graham plays. Her microphone squeals once during her vocals.

Then comes the Karen-ifying of her appearance. Rory has already begun nervously sweating and can't imagine wearing her friend's turtleneck and high-waisted pants combination onstage. Instead, Karen rifles through Rory's suitcase until she finds a red tie-front shirt with flowy sleeves, bell-bottom jeans, and heels with strawberries printed on the platforms. She'd bought the shoes on a whim in Santa Fe. It's not like she planned on wearing them soon.

"Karen, I am going to fall and break my ankle," Rory tells her after emerging from the dressing room. The thick heels and the strap around her ankle make them easy to walk in, but they add an extra four inches to her height, and she's worried about slipping onstage. "I am going to fall and then my boob will pop out of this shirt and I am going to flash everyone—"

"Stop it," Karen orders, putting a pair of hoop earrings through Rory's earlobes. "You're not going to fall. You will not flash anyone. You look beautiful."

Rory glances down at her outfit, glad that Karen had listened to her concerns about overheating and picked clothing to combat it. The material of the shirt is thin and will allow her skin to breathe. Her jeans are sturdy, but not tight enough that she'll feel constricted.

When the time to go onstage arrives, she wonders if she might actually pass out. Her heart trips over itself with furious hammering against her ribs, her stomach tying itself in knots.

"You've got this," Eddie tells her, pulling her to his side for a brief hug. "You took your inhaler, right?"

Rory doesn't trust herself to speak, so she just manages a nod.

Warren claps her on the back. "Play your little heart out!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, The Six!"

Billy turns around and locks eyes with Rory. He nods, waiting for confirmation. She returns the gesture. Then they're walking out onstage as the crowd cheers.

The setlist opens with "Look Me In the Eye," which is, quite possibly, the worst part for Rory since the song begins with just her guitar. She is the one the band has to wait on to start playing. And so, her legs wobbling as she secures Graham's guitar in place, she imagines that Abuelo is in the audience.

Rory kicks off the concert with her instrumentals, sounding much more confident than she had during soundcheck, yearning to make Graham and Abuelo's memory proud.

The original version of the song with Graham's backup vocals make it sound much rougher. But Rory's voice smooths out the harsh edges of Billy's vocals in the chorus as they get louder.

"Turn around, look me in the eye
Turn around, look me in the eye
Turn around, say it to my face
Turn around, say it to my face!"

Rory's eyes flicker toward Eddie on the right side of the stage. He purses his lips at her and scrunches his face in a typical Eddie Roundtree expression that means he digs what he's hearing. His head bobs along with the beat of the music, his shaggy hair already falling in disarray.

She looks back at Warren on the drums, having the time of his life like he always seems to when he's playing. He winks at her with a smirk. And, okay, Rory realizes that this might actually be pretty fun.

The lights make her sweat with the intensity of their heat. Although she stands behind the speakers, the sound of their instrumentals is nearly deafening— much louder than they seem from the crowd. And though she can't see the whole audience, she can hear their enthusiastic cheers and applause. It sends euphoria flooding through her veins until she feels nearly drunk on endorphins.

How can the others turn to drugs during tour when this is clearly the best of them all? Are they just seeking to replicate the soul-consuming adrenaline rush that comes with performing, chasing after a futile copy because nothing can ever feel as good?

Rory still turns tomato-red when Billy introduces her along with the rest of the band, matching her shirt and shoes in color. He approaches her and throws an arm around her shoulders. "Filling in for my brother, Graham, we have our lovely friend, Rory Marquez, on guitar for us today. Can we get a round of applause for her stepping in so we could play this show for you tonight?"

The crowd obeys, clinging to Billy's every word, breaking into thunderous applause. Rory smiles so widely it feels like her face might split in half.

He returns to the front of the stage after finishing introductions. "Rory can not only tear it up on the guitar, but she can also write some amazing songs. This next one was all from her. Here's 'Heartstopper,' everybody."

Rory doesn't actually remember playing her own song onstage. It's weird, because it should be her most treasured memory of the night, hearing people sing back the lyrics she'd written, but she becomes so full of emotion that her body stops processing everything lest she break down onstage.

As such, her favorite song of the night is "Señora".

"Let me carry you
on my back
The road looks long
and the night looks black
but the two of us are bold explorers
me and my gold señora."

The song makes her wish Camila were here to watch her play. It's the longest they have been apart since they met, and though they talk almost daily on the phone, it's not the same as seeing her in person.

After the show, the band stops for a group hug backstage, jumping and cheering for the successful last-minute change.

"Holy shit, Ro-Ro," Warren exclaims, pulling her in for an extremely sweaty hug. "You can rock!"

Rory finally detangles herself from all of their grasps, laughing. "Okay, that was fun. But I am never doing that again."

She wishes she could say that the bad times wind up being good ones just like that night. But they don't.

In Dallas, Billy tries heroin for the first time.

In Nashville, Rory watches a girl pop her shirt open so Warren can sign her extremely prominent breasts and wonders why it bothers her for the rest of the day.

It isn't clear when things had started to spiral out of control. It's more like, one day, Rory is watching them play a show and suddenly realizes that she doesn't remember the last time she had seen Billy sober. His movements onstage are wild, some of his speech slurred until half the lyrics are gibberish. His appearance is less like a ragged rockstar and more like someone you might find sleeping in a dumpster. It's like she is looking up at a total stranger.

Then comes the matter of him constantly using the van as his own personal haven for songwriting. He won't allow anyone inside while he's brainstorming (which usually involves doing a line or two of coke), instead forcing Graham and Eddie to act like bouncers. It leaves many days when Rory and Karen wander around whatever city they're in until he's done.

Three months in, the only person who has maintained the initial go-lucky attitude they all shared is Warren.

Four months in, shit hits the fan.

What happens once things are already spinning out of control? They eventually have to crash and burn. And, like the onset of disasters always do, things seem great for a handful of moments before the lightning strikes. It's like the eye of a hurricane where it feels like the horrors are finally over, only for them to get worse.

Rory is trying to pass the time by reading a shitty romance novel when she hears a knock on the motel room door. Curious, she sets the book aside and walks across the small room, wondering if Graham had locked himself out again. But on the other side is not one of the boys or Karen.

It's Camila.

Rory gasps so hard she almost chokes, throwing herself at her sister figure with a loud squeal, prevented from fully jumping on her by the visible baby bump protruding from beneath her polka dot shirt. Camila laughs as she returns the tight embrace.

"¿Qué haces aquí?" Rory asks, pulling away and marveling at her stomach. It's a stark reminder of how much time has passed since they'd last seen each other. "Oh my God, there's a baby! In there!"

"Yeah, I know." Camila puts a hand over the bump. "Listen, it's not why I'm here, but I was wondering... would you maybe want to... be the godmother?"

If Rory could get any more excited, she might die. Her body is so full of endorphins that she doesn't know what to do with herself. She starts jumping up and down and then hopping from side to side, wondering if she should scream or cry or somehow do both at once.

Camila's eyes follow her rapid movements, smiling. "¿Eso es un sí?"

"¡Sí!" Rory exclaims, wrapping her in another fond embrace.

Camila gazes past her into the empty room as she pulls away. "Where is everyone?"

Rory pulls a face. "Warren's probably getting high somewhere. I don't know where Karen is. Billy... I think he's in the van? He, Graham, and Eddie haven't been letting me in there— ha sido tan molesto. Ellos me vuelven loco."

She takes Camila's hand and pulls her back onto the street. They swing their arms as they walk, feeling on top of the world.

Graham and Eddie appear around the corner and step into the parking lot. Once they see Camila, they slow their steps.

"Hey!" she greets with a wave of her free hand.

"Look who surprised us!" Rory exclaims, expecting them to break out into excited cheers and run to hug Cami.

The girls continue heading toward them, but when the boys merely share a look and then glance toward the van, they stop.

It's like popping a balloon. The joy drains from the moment, instead filling it with a strange sort of dread.

Camila's smile fades. "What?"

Eddie steps toward the vehicle. Camila tears her hand from Rory's, storming toward it despite Graham's protests, and shoving him away with a, "Get off!" when he tries to physically block her.

She throws open the side door. Rory, still standing in the middle of the lot, can't see inside from her position. But Camila's gasp is enough to tell her that she had been so incredibly stupid to have ever believed that Billy was spending so much time in there "songwriting."

Camila steps to the side with stiff movements, allowing Rory to see a half-naked woman inside with an even less-clothed Billy. She feels like she's been punched in the gut and slapped across the face. And if she feels that way... she can't even imagine what is going on in her sister's mind right now.

"You two've been covering for him this whole time? Yeah?" Camila asks, pointing between Graham and Eddie. She shoves Eddie back. "Fuck you." Another push that has him stumbling. "Fuck you!"

She thunders back toward the motel room. Rory is still frozen in shock as Billy clumsily stumbles out of the bus, his denim shirt unbuttoned and his belt half-undone.

"Cami!" he shouts after her. He shoots a glare at his brother and Eddie. "The fuck did you guys do?"

As if it was their fault he was cheating on his wife.

He doesn't even seem to notice Rory. As such, his shoulder knocks into her hard, sending him even more off-balance than he already was. The stench of alcohol and sweat lingers around him as he continues toward the room.

Warren has impeccable timing as always. He rounds the same corner that the others had a few moments ago, glancing between the trio. "Why're we all standing out here like some sorta Western showdown? Should I have brought my pistols?"

The woman, now fully dressed, climbs out of the van and shoots all of them a dirty look before heading down the road. Warren stares at her in bewilderment. "Who the fuck is she?"

Rory's mind is busy tracing back all of the times when Graham and Eddie had kept her away from the van over the months. How they'd created countless excuses for Billy, covering the tracks of his infidelity, lying to her face. Over and over. Noticing how she trusted them with her entire heart and continuing to do it.

Graham appears to notice that she is a ticking time bomb. He turns toward her, one hand outstretched like she's a wild animal about to pounce, saying, "Rory..."

She wonders if she has ever been this angry in her entire life. She'd gone off at Billy for stealing her lyrics, felt belittled and slighted by Rose, and had countless instances of swearing at people under her breath, but she has never felt all-consuming rage like this. The force of it makes her tremble. Her skin is hot as anger fills her to the brim and then spills over, shooting steam from her ears. Now she knows what people mean by the phrase "seeing red."

Rory is so enraged that she blanks out on English and reverts back to her mother tongue, screaming at Eddie and Graham in Spanish for all of the world to hear. The two boys stand in frozen shock. Warren, the only one around who can understand her, attempts to translate between sentences.

"She's going to shove your guitars down your throats until they come out of your asses — and you'll be picking out splinters for weeks — You'll be lucky if she doesn't let you starve for the rest of your lives — or fill your bedrooms with... maggots? — I don't think even I could repeat what she just said — Oh wow, that's violent — Okay, I'm just gonna stop now."

Rory's body decides that she's done before her mind does. She realizes she hasn't breathed when her vision starts to turn, forcing her to suck in a deep gasp before she ends up needing her inhaler.

"It's just... we knew you'd tell her—" Eddie tries to say.

"Of course I would have told her!" Rory exclaims. "And both of you are — I don't have words to describe how... how big of assholes you are for enabling this bullshit! For months!"

Unsure of what to do with the riot of emotions crashing within her, and knowing she can't return to the room since Camila and Billy are in there, she starts to walk toward the sidewalk that leads to the main road.

"Where are you going?" Eddie asks.

"I don't know," she replies shortly. "I want to go home. He is ruining this for all of us."

Last week, she had tried to cut Billy off from alcohol for the night and he said he was "a grown man who wouldn't listen to a little girl." When she hid some of his pills in fear that he'd overdose, he'd nearly torn the van apart trying to find them and raged so hard she had cried in fear and given them back to him.

"You can't go home," Graham tells her. "You're safe with us."

Rory stops short, whirling around to face them. "Am I? Because you have been lying to my face all this time." She jabs a finger toward the motel room. "You all can do what you want, but I will not sit by and wait for him to kill himself with all of this. I. Am. Done."

∴━━━ ✿ ━━━∴

RORY: You may wonder how I didn't realize what was actually happening. I couldn't fathom why anyone would want to be unfaithful to a woman as wonderful as Camila. And I guess... I had no reason to think that my friends would lie to me.

________

a/n:

i still cannot believe how billy fumbled the bag so hard.

also, friendly reminder that addiction is a disease. it is a truly horrible thing, and even though knowledge of it wasn't as widespread during the time this story takes place, it will still be handled with care. just because rory is frustrated and angry with billy for refusing to get help and cheating on camila, it doesn't mean she is disregarding what he's going through. addiction has many sides and it can be a terrifying ordeal, both for the person experiencing it and their loved ones.

any comments making fun of billy's struggle with addiction will be deleted.

y'all i can't believe i'm STILL ON EPISODE 2. HELLO😭 bye. it feels like i should be halfway through the series by now. but, good news, daisy is coming soon !!!!! and then the ball really gets rolling.

here is rory's karen-ified outfit:

i want those heels so badly, even just to wear them around the house while doing chores

— kristyn

TRANSLATIONS:

¿Qué haces aquí?: What are you doing here?

¿Eso es un sí?: Is that a yes?

¡Sí!: Yes!

...ha sido tan molesto. Ellos me vuelven loco: ...it's been so annoying. They drive me crazy.

( word count: 6.5k )