It was music that I had never heard before. It sounded pissed. The drums were fast, the guitars were manic, and the voice that rumbled along with it sounded evil. Absolutely furious and evil. It barely sounded human, it was so deep and guttural — like a fucking monster. The sort of monster that would terrify Brandi and her ilk. It sounded like how I felt inside in that moment. It sounded like what I wanted to unleash on Brandi.
I looked at the car as it drove off, desperate to know what band was playing. The car’s bumper was plastered with stickers. Many of them were written in a font I could not decipher, spidery and electrified. I knew I was looking at band stickers, but I could not read a single one of them except for one: “DED.”
I decided to go to the music store and see if there was a band called DED. I wanted to hear that music again. I detoured and headed downtown, already feeling better. I almost felt light-headed.
I got to Bee Music and immediately went to the alpha-betically organized racks. There was no DED. Now, I have always had a problem with shopping in that I tend to want to hit the salespeople over the head or avoid them at all costs. I dislike their tendency to either be overly enthusiastic to encourage you to buy something, or to stare at you as though you are too filthy and uncool to possibly belong in their store. I was going to have to ask the guy at the counter about DED, and as I approached him, I started to doubt myself. What if they weren’t a band at all? What if the sticker was in reference to something else? How would I ask the guy about the music I’d heard? Pardon me, could you refer me to the pissed-off monster-guy section?
The guy was long haired and covered in tattoos, and I was definitely going to look like an idiot. But nothing could be worse than what had happened with stupid Brandi, and I needed to know about that band.
“Hi,” I said to the guy. He looked up from his magazine with the disapproval that I’d expected. Nevertheless, I continued. “I’m looking for a band called DED.”
The guy nodded, his expression turning into one of interest. “Oh yeah. We’ve got ’em. In the back, in the metal section.”
I nodded and went to the back of the store. This place obviously kept their “specialty” stuff in separate places from the regular racks, a fact I did not know because I had never really listened to music other than what was on the radio, and I barely listened to that.
And there they were. DED. I picked up the CD. Die Every Death was the full band name, and I shivered with excitement. The album was called Punish and Kill.
There were plenty of other bands, plenty of other CDs with that unreadable electric font, tucked in the back of the store. I felt like I’d uncovered a secret world.
The guy from the front counter had wandered back to join me. “That’s a great record,” he said, referring to Punish and Kill. “They’re awesome.”
“Yeah, they are,” I agreed. “I’ve only heard a little bit, but I really like it.”
“Oh man, you have to check out track six. ‘Stomp Your Skull.’ It’s completely killer. The whole record is.”
“I totally will,” I said. “Awesome.”
xXx
When I arrived back at my house, Mom and Dad were sitting at the kitchen table. Dad was marking a pile of papers and was in the middle of a rant about the idiocy of his students when I burst in through the side door, desperate to listen to my new CD.
“Well, Rachel, how was the exam?” my mother asked.
“Fine. Good,” I said.
“What’s in the bag?” my father asked. “You bought a CD?”
I knew that they would not approve. But I had never been the sort to lie to my parents. I isolated myself in my room, but I did not hide things from them.
“I did.”
“Well, let’s see what you bought!” Mom said cheerfully. I placed it on the table in front of them. Dad picked it up.
“DED. Die Every Death,” he read, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “Punish and Kill.”
“Punish and Kill?” repeated my mother.
“It’s really good,” I said. “I really like what I’ve heard of it.”
My parents looked at each other across the table, and for the first time I felt a line slowly etch itself between me and them. Then they looked at me.