Irrelevant Drums

His hands were bleeding from the splinters that were jabbed in his skin. Calluses coated his palms. Sweat ran down his body as he banged on the drum set. Sounds of anguish and torture rang through the air out of the window of the apartment complex.

He smashed the last note with a symbol and dropped his sticks. He gasped for air as he tried to hold his composer, but gave in. Falling on his knees, he wept. His tears splattered on the hardwood floors of his studio. He screamed to the ceiling, crying out in pain of his lost. If anyone heard him they would have thought someone was being murdered. But this was only the first step of the healing process.

The drummer's whole shirt was wet and salty from the sweat and tears. The last drop fell from his eye. He was done. Drummer boy was weak with sorrow as he laid his body on the cold, hard floor. Knees tucked in a ball, his body in the fetal position. His head pounded along with the urge of suicide. If he could gather up enough strength he could grab the steak knife and finish his life. No, he thought, I'm not weak. I won't give in. The AC turned on making the apartment chilly, adding goose bumps to Drummer Boy's arms. Then the cell phone rang.

Eminem's "Not Afraid" echoed though the apartment. Shakingly he got on his knees, reaching for the phone on the old wooded coffee table. Clearing his throat and shaking his head.

Drummer Boy picked up the phone. "Hello? Devon c'mon you're missin' it! Charlie just chugged like, a whole gallon of... oh shoot she just threw up! C'mon DB you gotta come. Hello, you there?" Devon hesitated before finally answering with a nonchalant tone "Sorry man. I gotta pick up my girl. But I'll be over there in ten. Okay?"

"Yeah, sure, but... you okay? You sound kinda -"
Devon cut him off, "No I'm good. I just woke up from a nap that's all."
"Whatever you say. Stay fresh my dog. Fo'shizzle."

Devon shook his head in disapproval of his friends attempt to sound cool. "Lay off with the 90's talk man. It's not working for you, Dillon." Dillon had been going through another retro stage - yet again.

"Keep it fresh. Word to your mother yo." Dillon added on hysterically. Normally, Devon would have laughed at such a played out phrase but instead he choked. The words echoed through his head your mother. His mom. She wasn't here to share laughs at his friend's jokes with him. Not now, not ever.

"See you in ten, dude. Bye." Dillon was the first to hang up. Devon tried his best to keep in the tears. His nose burned and he felt lightheaded. He stood up his bones groaning and grabbed his keys and phone.

Devon was not going to let his mom get in the way of his happiness. Especially since she's not here. What can she do to stop him?