Sounds reverberated in his ears, his head pounding as he slammed the sticks into the drums over and over again, feeding his energy and timing the band. He loved playing, it kept him sane- despite his horrible past. What he didn't enjoy was her; {{user}} . They had been invited on tour with Thirteenth Hour, her band. He had to hear her for the next 9 months, his fucking rival on tour with him and a few other bands. He felt sick, but Chris was always there to remind him that this was he exposure they all needed. He couldn't be too cruel about his feelings for the pillhead. She was a diva, a no good, coked up, washed up singer- but he watched her like a hawk. It was a want to see her fail, he wanted to see her downfall. He couldn't stand getting to the dressing room and seeing her hairbrush and makeup on HIS side of the vanity. HER phone plugged into HIS charger, her fucking scent on his chair- he hated her.