"Shit, you look rough."

I turned my head slowly to look at the man in the apron. My expression told him I was not to be messed with. After Stelle left without saying goodbye I took myself to a small diner down the road for some breakfast. Now that the man set it on the table in front of me, I didn't want it. 

"You gonna eat?" 

Sighing, I looked down at my plate. Steaming scrambled eggs and a tiny piece of burnt toast. My hand shook as I reached for the cup of black coffee that was already growing cold. 

"Buck fifty," the man said. "Unless you want dessert."

I dropped a bit of money on the table and watched the man leave after scooping it up. Setting my cup down, I pushed my plate aside and crossed my arms, letting my head fall on the table. A horrible night with little sleep and nowhere to go. This little trip was turning out worse by the minute. Stelle would be at the airport by now, willing herself not to lose it in front of anyone. Maybe at one of the telephones calling the hospital to see if they had any news about her mother. Or maybe she had already boarded the plane and was keeping herself busy with a complimentary magazine.

Rain continued to drown the town. Early this morning the storm had passed but the pelting rain stayed behind. Tears ran down the window and threatened to run down my face. Something was gnawing at me, something I couldn't put a name to. Guilt? Grief? Maybe a mixture of both. 

I held no resentment toward Stelle for leaving so suddenly. I couldn't blame her for wanting to get out of Australia as quick as possible. Who knew what condition her mother was in by now? But I couldn't help but feel I did something wrong to warrant a parting like that. Sending me away to the bathroom only to leave without another word.....I sat up and shook my head of the thought. Maybe she wasn't one for sappy goodbyes. Maybe her mind was too occupied at the minute; maybe she had intended to stay for breakfast and took off at the last minute. Whatever the reason, it wasn't her fault. 

I just hoped it wasn't my fault either. 

Managing to eat some of the eggs and leaving the burnt toast behind, I stood from the table and left the diner, the bell ringing above the door. Avoiding pedestrians and their umbrellas and crossing the street, I took off. Sitting around was only giving me more time to think. I didn't want to think, I had to get moving. Take my mind off things.

**********

I looked a sorry sight in the Sydney streets. My frizzy hair stuck to my cheeks and my clothes were haphazardly picked that morning. Puffy though my eyes were, that didn't compare to the dark circles underneath them. Luckily there weren't many people out that Thursday morning and I avoided some stares. Thursday, or Friday? I couldn't remember anymore. I had been away too long. Endlessly wandering my way through the weeks. Ending up in different places many nights. Hardly having a home to come back to. Soon enough I'd have no home at all. It was only a matter of time before Stelle's office was notified of her departure. But I couldn't bring myself to care at the minute. My free time was spent feeling sorry for myself and I hated myself for it. Why couldn't I do something productive and get my mind off things? Walking was getting me nowhere. I needed to settle on a place. 

The place I settled on was the shittiest place I could find. With no one around, it was perfect. Any sane person would have turned around and found something else but I wasn't exactly in the right state of mind at the moment. Crouching behind the blue dumpster hidden from passing strangers' sights, I picked up a broken piece of chalk that had rolled under the garbage and began to draw. Someone had already been here before me and their drawings remained unfinished on the dumpster. Curse words and flames and a pink wad of gum with teeth marks embedded in it. I grimaced and avoided touching it as I sketched. Surely hiding away from the world and focusing on drawing would take my mind off things. 

**********

How did Angus manage to do this so easily? That man had a ridiculous talent for art and he made it look so easy. In their movie Let There Be Rock, he drew that cartoon so well and I didn't seem him use an eraser once. In my case, I had a flower that could have used some touching up with its rather uneven petals. The chalk stained my hands with a pale yellow powder and it got harder to draw the shorter it got. Once in a while I'd look up to make sure no cops had decided to take their break in my alley. They'd chase me away for sure. By now the rain was wiping away the previous drawings. The word 'Fuck' had turned into 'luck'. The gum threatened to fall off and land on my shoe. Deciding no amount of trying could save my flower, I gave up and tossed the remaining chalk under the dumpster. Using the rain to wash my hands, I stood up, soaked through to the bone, and started for the hotel. 

A rat ran in front of me and I clutched my chest, taking a breath. "Shit," I muttered. The rat's fur glistened as it ran for cover. With no watch and no sun I had no clue what time it was. I wasn't even sure if the band was playing a show tonight. It didn't matter. I wouldn't be attending anyway. I needed to figure out what to do and where to go from here. 

Spending half my evening just finding the hotel again I wrung my hair out before opening the door where Here Come Santa Claus filled the lobby. Wiping my shoes on the rug, I stuck my hands in my pockets and kept my eyes glued to the floor as I hurried to the stairs. More people were likely to see the mess I had become if I had taken the elevator. With the music growing fainter the farther I went, it finally ceased when I reached my floor. I was met with silence on the empty floor. A lone whistling broke it, echoing through the stairwell. I hurried to my room.

A haunting, hollow hotel room. Darkened by the overcast sky and terribly lonely. My clothes and belongings lay next to the couch like always. It got worse when I reached the bathroom. Just like this morning, it was vacated. I stripped off my wet clothes and tossed them in a pile on the floor, starting up a hot shower. 

**********

Raising a hand to the bedroom door, I stopped myself. There was no need to knock. Pushing it open, I expected to see a messy bed with the sheets all twisted and clothes on the floor. Instead the room was immaculate. The bed looked like it hadn't been slept in for weeks and any sign of a guest had been removed. Stelle sure knew how to clean up. 

The closet door was open just a few inches. I crept toward it and pulled it aside. Bare hangers and a small hoover vacuum were the only things in there. That, and my notebook on the floor. Picking it up swiftly, a flyer fell out and floated to the floor. I ignored it and took the notebook to the bed, sitting cross legged and flipping it open. The backstage pass, a newspaper, and all my writings were still there. Stelle hadn't touched it. I wonder what she thought when she saw it in there as she packed her things. Maybe she wished she had never met me. Some part of me deep inside still blamed myself for Stelle's mother getting in the accident. What other incidents had I unintentionally caused? What else had happened as a response to me going back in time?

I flipped through my conversations with the band. The interviews I conducted to make them believe I was really a music journalist. The trick I played on them so they'd keep me around. It was all a lie. 

Why was I here? I thought I had been sent here to have fun since a mission of some kind made no sense. But I wasn't having very much fun now. 

Whatever sent me back in time had sent the wrong person. 

Tears splattered onto the pages, darkening the words. I wiped my eyes, hoping my crying wouldn't ruin my work. I still worked hard on this notebook, even if some of it was done in bad taste. 

Once in a while I'd see a name. I saw Angus' name a few times. Once I called him cute and I sniffed. Maybe he read that part. At this point, I didn't care. Phil's name came up a good amount. Worrying about his future with drugs and how I could do nothing to stop it. Same with Bon and Malcolm. 

So if I wasn't having fun anymore and there was no one I could help, what was the point? 

I wanted to go home. I wanted to see my family again. Even if I didn't get along the best with them I didn't want to leave them forever. I wouldn't exist in my time if I didn't go back. I'd remain here as a memory, fading away with everything else. I wouldn't ever get to tell my family that I still loved them, despite all my bad memories with them. 

I wouldn't ever-

My heart ached. I grabbed my chest and covered my mouth, tears spilling down my face onto my hand. I remembered.

I wouldn't ever get to apologize to my friend back home. 

Writing my fanfictions had been my way of coping with our fight. I had said some things I shouldn't have and really hurt her. We decided it was best for both of us to have a break. And during that break I had distracted myself with my stories and my music. It was high time I apologized to her but now I couldn't. For all I knew, I was trapped here.

Lying down on the crisp covers of the bed, I cried into my pillow, my shoulders quivering. Kicking the notebook away from me, hearing it fall to the floor, I curled into a ball and wept. 

Stelle's mother was in the hospital in critical condition. It might not have happened if I hadn't been here. Stelle left in a hurry without saying goodbye and I was sure I'd never see her again. Now I was sure I'd never see my family and best friend ever again. I spent a good part of my stay here lying to the band about who I was and now they were surely upset with me too. Thinking over everything I had told them and realizing I was full of shit. Hoping the tour would start soon so they could fly away and leave me here. Despite the logical side of my brain telling me none of this was true, I didn't believe it. I refused to hurt myself even more by believing in what I thought to be a false hope. 

None of them could be as upset with me as I was. None of them hated me more than I did. 

Sometime during my cry I fell asleep, the rain taking over.