The drive home had been silent. Chester and Sam had just sat in the car as she drove home. Neither made a move to break the silence, it was a regular occurrence between the two so they weren't uncomfortable.
They were now home and they just sat on the couch, side by side, staring at the wall. Chester needed to speak, to share his feelings, to get it all out.
'I know you don't believe me, but I know who and what I saw,' Chester broke their silence.
'What did you see Chester? Was it a mass of blue hair? His face, what? What the hell makes you so damn certain you saw Mike in that audience? You said yourself that you're scared so maybe your fears are just getting to you,' Sam was upset, she couldn't help snapping.
'I saw him Sam! I saw his face, I saw his evil smile, I saw his orange hair, I saw the knife in his hand! I'm not going crazy! I maybe scared but don't you think I have every right to be scared? Look at what happened last time. Do you know what day it is tomorrow?' Chaz was getting worked up now.
'Chester, I-' Chester cut Samantha off before she could get any further.
'Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of Rob's death. Of Dave's death. Of Joe's death. Of Brad's death. Of when the man I loved more than anything on God's green earth, brutally murdered all our friends just to give me a message. A message that he was pissed that I broke off our relationship. Mike wants me dead! He's still out there and now is the perfect time to finish what he started a year ago. Do you have any idea how I feel? The man I love tried to KILL me cos I ended the relationship! every night I am haunted with dreams of him. I can still feel him, smell him, taste him. You maybe right, I maybe going crazy but that makes no difference. Mike's back!'
With that Chester broke down. His sobs echoed off the walls as he let it all out.
Samantha put an arm round his shoulders and pulled him to her. her own eyes let out tears. The reasons for her tears were more than just fear. She was afraid for both her and Chester's lives, she was hurt by how scared Chester was, she cried for the deaths of her friends. But over all that she cried for how Chester wasn't hers anymore. She lost him the moment he first kissed Mike. When the two men fell in love. She still hadn't got him back. Chester would always be Mike's and never hers no matter what.
That night, Chester and Sam had slept, like always, in the same bed but had kept their usual distance. Chester had calmed down slightly and was now walking around his home in just his boxers yet again.
He drank some of his coffee as he walked to his front door to collect his mail. Chester shuffled through it and continued to drink his coffee.
A slightly smaller envelope than the rest fell to the floor. Bending to pick it up, Chaz could clearly make out what was written on it.
FOR THE ATTENTION OF CHESTER BENNINGTON ESQ.
was hand written neatly in red block capitals on the envelope.
'NO!' cried Chester, as déjà-vu hit him hard. It looked exactly the same as the handwriting from the note that he had received two years ago, regarding the roadie that Linkin Park had collectively killed to hide his and Mike's affair.
'Chester?' called Sam, coming in from the kitchen. Chester was just stood, staring at the envelope that he held in his hand. 'Chester, honey, what is it?' She asked. She was starting worry.
'It.. It's a note addressed to me,' Chester whispered.
'So?' Sam calmly said to him, taking it from his hands. She slid her finger under the flap of the envelope and carefully opened it. Sam pulled out the folded piece of paper that was held within it and read the typed lettering aloud:
I STILL KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST TOUR
The words hit Chester like a thunder bolt, knocking him to the floor. Mike was back, this was real. He started hyper ventilating and couldn't bring himself to speak or even cry.
He just sat there, rocking his body back and forth. Sam was speaking to him, but her words just never managed to break through the shock that had taken over Chester's body and mind.
This was it. Mike was back to finish what he had started. There was nothing Chaz could do about it. His life was basically over. What could he do? Going to the cops wouldn't help, they'd never find Mike, they hadn't managed to for the past 365 days so they wouldn't now. He had no one to turn to.
Death was about to walk straight back into Chester's life and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
For some unknown reason, Chester had decided to go to work. He had chosen to come here, to this dressing room, to do these sound checks, to do this performance. He couldn’t think why he’d don it, but he had. He’ hadn’t told any of Limp Bizkit about the note, he was going to keep that a secret. He’d also told Sam to stay home, she’d be safer there.
Chester had found interest in the ceiling. He lay, staring up at it. He was trying his hardest to ignore that niggling little fear he had. The fear that today would be the day he died. Something was going to happen. Something bad. He could feel it in his veins. The fear took over his body, mind and soul. He couldn’t think of anything else but that fear.
He needed to let it out. Someone had to know. How could he go through this alone? He couldn’t he had to tell somebody. But who? Who could he turn to?
Not Samantha, she already knew and he felt that he was hurting her enough lately. What about Fred? He almost laughed aloud at that thought. Like fuck he was going to turn to that piss ass Fred Durst!
No, he had to think of someone else. Who could he trust enough? Wes? Jon? Lethal? Sam? Which Limp Dick member? DJ Lethal’s dressing room was closest so why not just go to him.
Using as much strength as he could muster, Chester pulled himself up from the couch and headed to the door. He exited his room and came to Lethal’s.
Once more Chaz was hit with déjà vu. He could still remember opening Dave’s door, with the intentions of finding food. Instead he’d found the first of his best friends’ bodies.
‘Don’t be stupid Chester.’ He scolded himself, shaking the image from his head. Thinking those thoughts were just going to drive him crazy today. But he just couldn’t help it.
Slowly, he reached out, taking hold of the door handle and clicking it open.
He pushed and the door slid open. He stepped inside and looked around the room.
‘Not again, not again, not again,’ he repeated, over and over backing up.
Infront of Chester was a truly disgusting sight. The stench of death filled his nostrils as he stared at the gross scene that was held within the dressing room.
DJ Lethal’s body was strung up in the centre of the room by wires wrapped around his wrist, ankles and neck. Blood dripped to the floor from his feet from a wound on his chest. A dark crimson puddle had formed and it was still increasing in size.
Chaz backed up and walked into the door frame, aiding in his departure from the room.
This couldn’t be happening! Not again! The familiar words of ‘what do we do? What do we do?’ as he remembered Mike. Chester knew what he had to do, he didn’t want to do it but he had to.
Without a second thought, he set off towards Jon Otto’s dressing room, already knowing what to expect when he opened the door.
Chester stood infront of John’s door, staring at it as if he’d never seen a door before. He stood, his body rigid, daring himself to open it. The door taunted him, making him sweat.
‘For fuck’s sake Chester, just open the damn door! It’s not like you’ve never seen death before,’ he snapped at himself out loud.
Finally, he worked up the extra courage he needed and he grabbed hold of the handle. In one fluid motion, he clicked it open and used as much force as possible to open it all the way without him actually having to enter the room.
His fears were confirmed, once again death lay infront of him. John Otto’s body lay limply on the floor, his head a few feet away from it. A pool of blood surrounded his torso, making the visible skin look the colour of milk.
The wound had stopped bleeding, the heart had obviously stopped pumping a while ago. The dismemberment was clean and no other wound could be seen upon the headless body. A bloodied cymbal lay close by, obviously the weapon used for the attack.
Chester bolted, feeling very sick, and very light-headed. Someone had to be alive, they couldn’t all be dead. But deep down he knew that they all were.
He came to the next door and stared at it. Reading the name upon it:
This person was no longer a person. They were a corpse, they didn’t exist.
The were nothing more than a heap of rotting flesh and drying blood. As soon as these thoughts entered Chester’s head, he shook them away. How could he think like that? This person, Sam Rivers, was his friend.
Clearing his head, Chester used as much force and haste needed to propel the door open, not wishing to enter the room, just as he had done with John’s.
At first, he didn’t see the body. Looking up he saw it. Sam was hung from the ceiling by strings from his bass. Blood dripped from the wound that the strings had caused in his throat by cutting deeply into his flesh. From the blue tint of his skin, Chester could that he had died from strangulation and not blood loss.
Finally, the sight and scent of death caught up with Chaz and his stomach heaved. Doubling over, he vomited. His stomach emptied out its contents, regardless of his wishes for it to stop. When there was nothing left for his stomach to release, he gypped for a few minutes before finally being able to stop.
All his strength had seethed out of his body but he needed to stand up. Using the door frame to help him resume a vertical stance, Chester stood, leaning on the door at first. He gathered a little strength and began to move, slowly in the direction of the next dressing room, Wes Borland’s.
Flashes from the previous year fought their way through the haziness of Chester’s head. He remembered how he had done a similar thing to this then. Except then, the bodies were of his bestest friends, and he had had someone by his side when he was searching for them.
*Mike* His face came into Chester’s mind, letting him remember the good times. The feeling of love, the feeling of safety. But that had all been blown to fuck when Mike had killed their friends and tried to kill Chester.
A scream of anguish escaped Chester’s lips as he walked down the corridor towards Wes’s room.
Why had Mike done this? What did he wish to accomplish? If he wanted Chester dead, why the fuck hadn’t he killed him instead of bringing a load of innocent people into the fray?
|TOP | Last updated 15 February 2002 19:42 (AUS EST / +1000 GMT).|