Born Wrong Read Online Free

God, let her make a good decision right now. Naomi keeps strumming her guitar, moving us along into that Believe song, the one we've never played before. I have no choice but to follow along with her. It feels like a betrayal, but what else can I do? I take my frustration out on my cymbals, smashing the wooden sticks into the metal like they fucking owe me.
    “ I can't believe I was ever that stupid, ” Naomi sings, bending down low and breathing into Hayden's microphone. It only lasts a second before Hayden is standing up and spinning away. Naomi moves back in a turn, wrapping the cord of her guitar around her ankles and owning it like she's Turner Campbell incarnate. She retreats back to her own mic just in time to sing the next verse. “ And I can't believe I was ever that young. That my heart beat that fast. That my voice sung that bright. I can't believe I ever fell in love with you. ”
    The crowd flips shit, exploding with excitement and barely restrained violence. Naomi is owning it, I'll admit, but this is not my thing. I like a different vibe, a darker, more melodic strand of anarchy and disjointed disapproval. I don't want the fans to lose their minds and go crazy with need. I want them here, with me. I want to hold their hands and show them the other side of life, a different avenue, a beautiful sky. This whole crazy, murder your next door neighbor and smash the venue to shit thing isn't our usual MO. I guess I'm just not used to going onstage after Indecency. Naomi's making things worse, bouncing up and down, destroying her guitar with her pick and belting out the lyrics to a song she knows Hayden doesn't know.
    “ Most of all, I can't believe that I wanted to believe. ” The room is bouncing, the audience taking a page from our books and smashing the floor with vibrations that travel up through the soles of my boots and into my toes, infiltrating my bones and making me grit my teeth. Hayden stands at the side of the stage, completely and utterly lost, sides heaving, mouth turned down in a frown. The cameras keep zooming in on her, flashing her frustration to the world. Hey, if I was worried about my family seeing me, I needn't have been. Doubt I'll be getting any airtime today.
    I send up a silent prayer of strength for Hayden to get it together. She's the Queen of Show Business. Pull yourself together, Goddamn it. After another thirty seconds passes however, I can see that she's not going to. Her cheeks are flushed red with rage and her fists are curled so tightly at her sides that her knuckles are white.
    I'm the first one to stop playing.
    “Hayden, don't!” I shout as the other members of my band keep going, dragging the song along without me. After a second, Wren falters a bit and drops his game, but Naomi keeps playing. Even when Hayden starts moving across the stage towards her. “Hayden!” I stumble down off the dais, but I'm not fast enough to stop the explosion of rage and jealousy and hatred that's been brewing for a long time coming. If Naomi only knew about the kid. If she only knew...
    I know shit's serious when Hayden says nothing, no fuck you , no stupid bitch , nothing.
    Her tiny body barrels into Naomi mid-riff and sends her stumbling, tripping over the cord to her guitar and sending her flat on her ass. At this point, Blair is the only one still playing, drowning the audience in haunting melodies stripped from the ivory keys of her board. The ghostly murmurs belt out the speakers, highlighting the sudden lack of sound from down below. Everyone's watching with bated breath, sucking up this angst and tragedy through a fucking straw. See, and that's my problem with this whole thing. I love the music, and I want to marry the crap out of my drums, but I don't like this desperate greed for trouble and drama. Why can't we just play? Why can't we just transform their souls with melodies and carefully drawn out notes? These people, most of whom have never truly suffered a moment in their lives,