Chapter 04: Trap

Wow, I didn't expect this to be such a journey. I mean, who knew that music could be such a powerful tool for coping with grief? It's like my own personal therapy session, except without the therapist's exorbitant fees.

I guess you could say that music is the ultimate multitasker. It can make you laugh, cry, dance, and even forget about your problems for a while. It's like a friend that's always there for you, no matter what.

Radiohead is like the musical equivalent of a rainy day with a side of existential dread. Don't even get me started on those sad songs that pop up on shuffle when you're already feeling down. It's like the universe is conspiring against you.

I could remember a time when I was feeling particularly low, and I decided to put on some Jeff Buckley to wallow in my misery. Bad idea. I ended up sobbing into my pillow for hours. It's like his voice is made of pure melancholy.

You know what they say, misery loves company. Sometimes it feels good to just lean into the sadness and embrace the dark side of life. And let's be real, some of the best music comes from that place of pain and heartbreak. You only understand the lyrics when you're down.

It's like the great philosopher Plato once said, "Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination and life to everything." Sometimes, that life includes a healthy dose of emotional turmoil and despair.

So next time you're feeling blue, put on some Radiohead, grab a pint of ice cream, and just let it all out. After all, as the saying goes, "it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all… but it's even better to have a good cry and a pint of Ben & Jerry's."

As for that Dazzler concert, well, let's just say that it was an experience. I mean, I've never seen someone turn sound into light before. It was like watching a unicorn give birth to a rainbow. And the crowd was amazing too. Everyone was so into the music that it was like we were all one big, sweaty, dancing organism.

I don't know if music is the answer to all of life's problems, but it certainly helped me cope with mine. And if you're going through a tough time, I highly recommend giving it a try. Just don't listen to anything by Radiohead unless you want to end up in the fetal position on your bedroom floor.

Pushing my thoughts aside, I sighed and made my way out of the concert.

The night was colder than a witch's tit in a brass bra as I sauntered out of the concert hall, fishing out a cigarette and lighting it up with a snap. As I inhaled, I looked up at the stars above, feeling like a wannabe hipster stargazer.

But my celestial daydream was rudely interrupted by a chick with eyes bluer than the flames of hell and hair blacker than my soul on a Monday morning. She was hotter than a crematorium oven and deadlier than a Game of Thrones spoiler.

I was like a deer caught in the headlights, except I wasn't a deer and she wasn't a car. I was more like a chicken nugget in front of a starving vegan.

She looked at me like she wanted to swallow me whole, which is not something you want to hear from someone who's already dressed to kill. I was more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

But then again, I've always had a thing for danger. It's like a moth to a flame, except the moth is suicidal and the flame is an electric chair.

"Hey there," she said, flashing me a sultry smile. "Mind if I join you?"

I shrugged, taking another drag of my cigarette. "Sure, why not? What brings you out here?"

She shrugged nonchalantly, but her eyes were anything but. "Just needed some fresh air. Plus, I couldn't resist the allure of a man with a cigarette."

I chuckled, feeling a slight flutter in my chest. "Well, I try to be irresistible. Like a burrito at 3 am."

She laughed, her eyes crinkling.

We both gazed in the distance, silently, before somehow falling into a deep conversation about life, death, and everything in between. It was like we were two lost souls, just trying to make sense of the world around us. Like two emo kids who just discovered My Chemical Romance.

She was particularly talking about how a long life could be like.

As we talked, I couldn't help but notice the way she was looking at me. It was like she was undressing me with her eyes. I was more confused than a chameleon in a bag of Skittles.

"So, what do you do?" she asked, her voice low and husky.

I took another drag of my cigarette, trying to compose myself, thinking of some bullshit. "I'm a writer. Or, at least, I try to be." Well, I wasn't lying per se, I write code.

She leaned in closer, her lips dangerously close to mine. "I love a man who knows how to use his words," she purred.

I chuckled nervously, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. "Well, I try my best."

She smirked, running a hand through her hair. "Name's Selene, by the way. And you are?"

"Alex," I introduced myself, feeling a flutter in my chest as she leaned in even closer. "You know," she whispered, "I feel like we have a connection. Don't you?"

I swallowed hard, feeling like a fish out of water. "I… uh… I'm not sure what you mean."

Selene's eyes narrowed, her lips curving into a wicked smile.

"Oh, I think you do. I think we both want the same thing."

I raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool. "And what's that?"

She leaned in and whispered something in my ear that made my heart skip a beat. I was more surprised than a penguin in the Sahara.

"I don't know," I said, trying to play it off. "I don't want to rush into anything."

Well, maybe I wanted a distraction more than anything…

Selene chuckled, running a hand down my chest. "Who said anything about rushing? Let's just take it slow."

Before I knew it, we were kissing. It was like a scene from a movie, except the movie was directed by David Lynch and the soundtrack was all death metal.

I could feel the warmth of her breath on my face, sending shivers down my spine. Her lips were soft and gentle, yet confident and assertive. It was as if we were engaged in a dance, each one responding to the other's movements and signals.

The kiss was brief, but intense, and it left me feeling a mix of emotions—excitement, confusion, and a hint of danger.

But just as things were getting heated, I felt a tingle in my head. As I stumbled backward, she smirked.

'Ah fuck… not this cliche.'

I groaned; I've had my fair share of headaches, but this one was something else entirely. It was like a jackhammer was relentlessly pounding away at the inside of my skull, and not even a gallon of aspirin could dull the pain.

My brain felt like it was trying to escape from my skull, like a prisoner breaking out of Alcatraz. The sounds around me were like nails on a chalkboard, each one making my headache worse than the last.

As if a demon had taken up residence in my brain, using a pitchfork to poke and prod at my neurons. I couldn't think straight, let alone string together a coherent sentence.

Every movement felt like a hammer blow to my head, and the mere thought of light made me want to crawl into a cave and never come out. I was pretty sure that if someone had told me a joke, I would have punched them in the face.

But the worst part was the constant throbbing, like a drumbeat that never stopped. It was like my brain was trying to communicate with me, but all it could say was "pain, pain, pain." I was more irritable than a porcupine in a balloon factory.

I couldn't help but wonder if this was what it felt like to have a lobotomy. And the thought of that made me want to crawl under a rock and die. But then again, if the headache didn't kill me, the jokes probably would.

Darkness consumed me slowly, and I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness. As I fell, I heard Selene's voice whispering in my ear.

"Sweet dreams, my dear. We have much to discuss. Like why pineapple belongs on pizza."

***

As I slowly regained consciousness, the pain in my head felt like it had reached a new level of Dante's inferno. It was like a thousand angry toddlers were throwing a tantrum in my brain, screaming at the top of their lungs. My eyes felt heavy, and my body felt like it had been run over by a truck.

I tried to move, but my body felt like it was made of lead. My limbs were heavy, and my head was pounding like a jackhammer on steroids. The air around me was thick and musty, and I could barely make out the outlines of the room.

My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, and I could see that I was in some kind of cell. The walls were rough stone, and the floor was cold and damp. The only light came from a small crack in the ceiling, and I could hear the faint sound of water dripping.

I sat up slowly, groaning as my body protested every movement. My head was still throbbing, and my thoughts were fuzzy. I tried to piece together what had happened, but my memory was hazy.

As I surveyed my surroundings, I couldn't help but wonder how I had ended up in this dank cell. Was I the victim of some elaborate kidnapping scheme?

Then it hit me: well, hot damn, I really done goofed this time. I mean, who in their right mind goes and plants a big wet one on a woman you just met? Me, apparently. Talk about a mistake! It was like putting my lips to a hot stove and then wondering why my mouth was burning. Such a cliche move, I might as well have been in a cheesy romantic comedy. The difference being, I was not.

And now I'm paying the price for my grave error in judgment. The universe is like, "Oh, you wanted to kiss Selene? Here, have a big ol' helping of regret, get kidnapped, and have this embarrassment on the side." I curse myself for being such a knucklehead. Why couldn't I have just kept my lips to myself and avoided this whole mess?

But hey, at least I can add "making out with Selene" to my list of life experiences, right? It's right up there with "getting kicked in the face by a horse" and "accidentally setting my hair on fire." Maybe I can even turn it into a funny story to tell at parties, once I get out of this place.

Ah, the sweet sting of karma. It's like a boomerang, except instead of coming back to you, it smacks you in the face when you least expect it. Maybe it's because I made too many terrible jokes in high school. I mean, I once told a math teacher that "pi" was just a fancy way of saying "apple" in Spanish. Or maybe it's because I was just too sexy for my own good. It's hard to say. (No, "pi" is not actually apple in Spanish, that was just a terrible joke that I made up. It's the kind of joke that would make my high school math teacher roll her eyes and shake her head in disappointment. I was just trying to be funny, but clearly, my sense of humor was not well-developed back then. And maybe that's why karma decided to give me a swift kick in the pants. But now I know better than to make silly jokes like that. Instead, I'll stick to the kind of humor that doesn't involve misleading people about foreign languages.)

Either way, the universe has finally found a way to balance things out. It's like a cosmic scale, and I've been on the wrong side of the weight limit for far too long. But now, thanks to karma, I'm finally back in balance. And by "back in balance," I mean I'm flat on my back in a fucking cell bed, trying to figure

out how I got here.

As I lay there, trying to piece together what had just happened, I realized that karma had finally caught up with me. All those terrible jokes I made in my past life high school? They were coming back to haunt me. And not just haunt me, but beat me to a pulp and leave me for dead.

But it wasn't just the jokes. It was everything. The times I skipped gym class, the times I cheated on tests, the times I made fun of people for being different. It was all coming back to bite me in the butt. Let me tell you, it was one big, ugly, karma-filled butt.

Either way, I knew one thing for sure: I needed to find a way out of this cell before I lost my mind. And if Selene was behind this, well, let's just say that revenge is a dish best-served cold.

First, I needed to find a way to cure this headache. Maybe I could find a bottle of aspirin lying around somewhere. Or maybe I could just ask the thousand angry toddlers in my brain to calm down. Yeah, that'll work.

***

AN: Disappointed fr... such a simp... to be caught like this...

On a side note, this story ain't doing well... so I'll be honest as I always like to be.

I will upload all chapters I wrote, you can scroll to read. Anyways, I am going to to drop this fic if some miracle doesn't save it. So, up to you.

Those of you who know me, know well that I write for money, this isn't doing well = no money when I eventually make it full-time.

And I don't have time to spend on something that wouldn't earn.

There, honest.

Now, let's see how it goes.