Rage through the Waterfall

By the time she was sauntering back into her home on the lakeside—Zariah felt as if she’d floated in on cloud nine.

Permanent smile etched across her face, an old Villy V classic playing in her earphones, and a new wave of excitement coursing through her—she swaggered into the house, dancing and jamming to the song blasting in her ears, spinning a full 180 and whipping her front door shut. Then, she head-banged her way back to her bedroom, flipping one of the main lights on and slinging her purse onto the bed.

Despite the trouble that her ex had caused at the club earlier, despite walking into the suite upstairs and seeing a terrible fight wherein he’d become wounded, and despite Zander Voltaire’s general attitude toward her—Zariah simply couldn’t be bothered by any of the bad things about tonight, because she was much too happy about the good ones.

After all—she’d not only made friends with the eldest son of her favorite musician, and she not only had a direct connection to the family that she’d always wanted to see or meet somehow—she also genuinely enjoyed everything she had seen of Michael thus far, and she was greatly looking forward to seeing him again. He seemed like the sweetest guy she’d ever met, someone who had a kind of innocence that most people never carried into adulthood, and she couldn’t help but adore that about him.

Zariah plopped onto her bed back-first, humming along to the music and gazing up at the badass Villy V poster above her headboard. Then, she pulled out her phone and started texting Michael, swinging her feet to and fro while she typed out;

Hey! This is called a text message! Do you remember me telling you how to text and answer calls on that phone, or do you need a refresher? Lol

She placed the phone to her stomach, then simply mumbled along to her music for the next minute or two. After the song ended, she checked her phone again, sighing and laughing.

“Damn,” Zariah snickered. “I don’t know if he can even open that message…”

Meanwhile, a little less than a mile away—Michael was lying on his own bed in Voltaire Manor, holding the bright phone above his face and glaring at it in bewilderment. The phone had made a noise, and he saw something that looked like a message appear on the top of the screen, but he tapped, swiped, and poked the screen several times before he finally pulled down the notifications bar. He then spotted the message from Zariah, and he tapped it a bit too hard a few times before the message opened and took over his screen.

His eyes narrowed, moving from word to tiny word as he read her message, then choked out a laugh.

“Probably,” Michael murmured, ogling the screen up and down. “How do I reply…?”

Then, as if reading his mind, Zariah sent another text.

This one read;

I can see that you’re reading this. Tap the bar at the bottom, and it will give you a keyboard to type back.

Michael’s brows raised. “She can see that… what the f…?”

He sat upright in the center of his bed and glanced around at his tall window, almost as if he expected her to be somehow spying on him from there.

Then, he glanced back down at the screen, tapped the bar at the bottom, and watched as the tiny keyboard popped up.

“Oooooh,” Michael breathed with understanding, placing his thumbs to the screen and typing out his response, very slowly and carefully. “This is… too… sensitive…”

When he was done, he sent his reply, which read;

I see now! Thank you. What do you mean, you can see me reading this?

Zariah propped her fist to her forehead as she read this, giggling before typing a response.

There’s a little icon at the bottom right that shows if the other person has seen the message or not. If the icon is colored in, it means they’ve seen it.

Michael squinted at his phone, glimpsing down at the practically microscopic icon, then he nodded and replied.

Ok, I think I get it now. Cool!

Zariah smirked at this message, then thought of something she wanted to ask. She typed and sent;

Did you get in a lot of trouble with your family?

When Michael got this message, he leaned back atop the mountain of pillows near his headboard, staring vacantly at his phone for a moment before replying. He typed and sent;

No… surprisingly… not really. We got interrogated, but it actually sounds like they might not try to keep us inside anymore. My mom is still on the fence about it, but my dad seemed like his mind was pretty much made up.

Zariah made a few mild nods at reading this, a softer, more melancholy song of Villy V’s beginning to play in her ears now. She typed out and sent;

Sooo… we’re on for a movie night tomorrow?

Michael’s mouth curled into a pleasant little half-smile at reading this, and then he typed and sent;

Absolutely. I will be there

Zariah grinned, typing and sending;

Awesome. Come around 7?

Michael flashed another smile and sent;

Good deal, I shall!

Zariah sniggered again. “He’s so cute…”

She typed and sent;

Sweet! Let me know what kind of junk food you like and I’ll grab some tomorrow. Goodnight, and take care :D

Moments later, she got this response;

Goodnight… take care. Thank you

Zariah smiled once more, a calmer, more contented smile than she ever usually wore. She felt almost fluttery in her chest, even with something as small and simple as messaging him. There was something about Michael that was so endearing, she just felt delighted to talk to him. It was almost like she a teenager again, gleefully messaging a guy she liked and feeling happy with every reply.

Ping.

Another message popped up on her phone, but this one was not from Michael—it was from someone else.

Zariah’s smile vanished, and all of her new feelings of peace and happiness instantly faded away, replaced by several familiar and unpleasant ones, feelings of dread, anxiety, and aggravation. Sighing and rolling her eyes, she opened the new message—the one that had just come from Adrian.

This is like the tenth time you’ve unblocked my number. Why this time? So you can rub your new bf in my face?

Zariah glared at the message with a look of apprehension strewn across her face. She took in a deep, heated breath, trying to force herself calm before she replied.

Then, she typed out and sent;

No, I originally unblocked it because I’m worried you’ll overdose if somebody doesn’t keep you in line, AND because me and my FRIEND Michael were looking for someone earlier. We needed to ask you about it, because it was someone that you know. That is all.

Zariah then lowered her phone, holding it above her stomach and glaring coldly at it for a long while as she waited for a reply. She took the time to switch to an angrier Villy V song to better match her sudden change of mood.

Then, Adrian’s reply popped up;

Friend, my ass. If that dude is Zander’s brother, then he’s a horn dog cocksucker who’s just trying to get in your pants. And I don’t need anybody to keep me in line. I just needed somebody to love me through this.

Zariah grumbled at reading this, her stomach churning as she gently shook her head. “And there’s my daily guilt trip…”

She typed and sent her response;

I did. But you’re not even trying anymore. You don’t care about weaning down, you don’t care about getting clean, and you don’t care about me. You don’t want to get better, and I can’t help to save someone who doesn’t wanna help and save themselves. It hurts too much to watch, and I don’t want it around me anymore.

Zariah then lowered the phone again, sighing deeply and nodding along to the angry song, grateful to be listening to it, as it was doing well to mitigate the feelings of sadness that were fighting to arise inside her now.

Adrian’s response arrived, and it read;

Yea shows how much you care

Zariah pushed herself upright, sitting on the edge of her bed and staring at the phone in shock, her mouth hanging open, and a choking breath escaping her, truly unable to believe the audacity of this man.

Suddenly, countless memories were flooding through her head; she remembered when she’d first met Adrian at the bar, when he was just an amateur musician who invited her to his other gigs, starting a fun, adventurous relationship, wherein he would pick her up before his gigs, take her along as a date, party with her afterwards, buy her whatever she wanted to eat that day, and then take her back home with kindness and care. But it wasn’t long before that when things began to change; he allowed his other friends to pressure him into trying malus for the first time, and within weeks, he’d become desperately addicted, no longer arriving to pick her up, no longer sparing any money to buy her anything, and no longer even inviting her to his gigs half the time anymore. Once he became addicted, his priority was only his fix; she was the one giving him rides, she was the one buying all of his food, and she was the one who felt the need to be on constant standby, just in case he had another overdose and she’d have to call the ambulance for him. He became meaner, more impatient, and annoyed by everything—until it became routine for him to explode on her, cussing her up and down and accusing her of cheating on him for seemingly no reason. It was a twisted rollercoaster of abuse and worry—and she was even forced to give him CPR the last time she saw him overdose. Of course she didn’t want to be in that frightening situation anymore.

But for him to say that she didn’t care?

After all of the verbal and physical abuse he had put her through, and after she stayed by his side in spite of all those things, just because she was worried about his wellbeing?

And even now—after she had decided enough was enough, and she couldn’t be his crutch or his punching bag anymore—she occasionally unblocked his number just to check in on him, still worried that he might accidentally kill himself.

Yet despite all of that— he had the nerve to say that she didn’t care about him?

Zariah let out a soft cry, her eyes watering, and she hurriedly typed her reply, sending it as a tear rolled down her cheek.

Go fuck yourself.

She quickly blocked his number again, then tossed the phone aside on her comforters, flumping back atop her bed and running her hands down her face.

Villy V’s song, Rage through the Waterfall , was playing in her ears, and she let out a long, heavy breath, merely losing herself to the music for a moment.

“Yet, here we are… where we live, die, and cry-y-y,” Villy’s lyrics sank deeply into her. “The world won’t care, and we ask ourselves why-y-y? The truth of it is… what we don’t wish to hear. The spirit calls out… and the answer is clear. The powers that be, and the people we know… we want them to change, and we want them to gro-o-ow. The masses cry out, and the powers don’t try! The lovers reach out, and you leave them to di-i-ie! So-now-you-have-to-ra-aaage, through the waaater-faaall! Ra-aaage, through the waterfaaall!”

Zariah stared up at her ceiling, no longer crying, her eyes still watery, but with an indignant shine. She suddenly launched up off of her bed—landing swiftly on her feet and singing along with empowerment as she danced in her room.

“Ra-aaage, through the waterfa-all… the world… deserves not… despa-a-air.”

Zariah became fully immersed in the song; it was coursing through every cell of her body, and she felt as if she’d never understood the song more clearly than she did now. The main chorus mellowed down, and a guitar paired with a piano number carried the song into verse two.

“We carry on… where we live, try, and di-i-ie. Years and years pass, yet we still all ask why-y-y? The truth of it is… almost too dark to bear. The unfeeling truth… that the world does not care. The powers that be… and the people we know. We want them to change… and we want them to grow. The powers wage war, and the people do too. I want it to stop… oh, what is one to do-o-ooo? Ra-aaage, through the waterfaaall! Ra-aaage, through the waterfa-a-aaall! Ra-aaage, throoough, the waterfaall… the world… it will not… repa-a-air.”

Zariah continued to dance, sing, and feel truly inspired by the music. Yes, Villy V was right; there was no sense in crying over things that would not change, or people who were beyond help. When you are unable to fix something, or unable to save someone—then you simply had to fight through the waterfall of tears, wiping them away before justly moving on.

The instrumentals slowly arose from their melodic drop, building up to the climax of the song.

“You feel with their pain… you watch their demise… you want it to end… you know you must try! But as you reach out, they look to your gaze… light up their flame, set themselves ablaze! Burning, and twisting, and screaming, and all—and you walk away, no more teeears to fa-a-all!”

“Ra-aaage, throoough, the waterfall!” Zariah sang her heart out, tossing her head back and jutting a hand into the air. “Ra-aaage, throoough, the waterfaaall!”

She danced her way into the open doorway of her bedroom while she continued howling throughout the house—not noticing that the front door had just closed, and her father was setting his keys down on the small mail table, squinting down the hallway oddly at her.

Virgil pocketed his hands in his tan trench coat, wandering down the hallway and eyeing her more closely, and flashing a faint half-smile as he did.

“Ra… aaage… through… the waterfall,” Zariah continued her performance, her eyes closed as she slowly lowered her outstretched hands, gently bowing her head and bringing her hands together in what looked like prayer. “The world… you cannot… make care.”

Just as the song drifted into its end, she opened her eyes, spotting her father and instantly reeling back.

“Oh, shit—hi,” Zariah sputtered, pulling the earphones out of her ears and stuffing them into her jacket.

Virgil scoffed out a laugh. “Having fun…?”

“Well, yeah, I was having fun—until fuck-ass decided to ruin it,” Zariah griped, swatting the air.

Virgil’s eyes narrowed.

“I unblocked Adrian earlier tonight… just to ask him where somebody was, because I was looking for someone down at the club, and it was someone he knew,” Zariah explained. “He just messaged me with the guilt-trip shit again, so I re-blocked him, because I don’t wanna hear it anymore. I had a good day, and he tried to ruin it, but screw him.”

Virgil nodded. “Mhm. Well… you need to stop talking to him altogether, or he’s always gonna be under the impression that he’s got the option of running back to you somehow.”

“Oh yeah… yeah, I know, and I’m never unblocking him again, trust me,” Zariah replied curtly. “I have somebody way better to talk to now.”

Virgil eyed her curiously

Zariah then revealed an ear-to-ear grin, practically hopping in place now.

“Guess what,” she giggled, reaching out and rapidly smacking his chest. “Guess what guess what guess what?!”

“Yes…?” Virgil said with a flattened smile.

“I met someone todaaay,” Zariah beamed. “And he is not only the nicest, and sweetest, and most innocent guy I’ve ever met—he is also a freaking Voltaire . He’s Villy V’s son! ”

Virgil’s brows raised, giving her a look.

“Which one?” he asked. “What’s his name?”

“Michael,” Zariah smirked.

Virgil made a nod, sighing with relief. “Okay, good…”

Zariah opened her mouth to continue ranting with glee—but she suddenly stopped, squinting strangely at her father.

“Did you say which one …?” she uttered. “How did you know that Villy V has two sons? Because that’s not on the internet. Trust me, I’ve checked like a trillion times.”

“Well… I only really knew about one of them until today,” Virgil informed. “One of them is somewhat involved with a thing that I’m investigating, and… I met the other one in town this morning, looking for his brother.”

“Oooh!” Zariah breathed. “Oh, okay… yeah, you met Michael. I ended up meeting him later and helping him find his brother down at the club.”

Virgil shot her a quizzical look. “He actually found his brother and got him to go home?”

Zariah nodded.

“Well… good,” Virgil muttered, scratching his cheek and moving to step out of the room.

Zariah peeked out of her room and stared after him as he walked away, then stepped out and followed. Her father walked over to the front door, peeled off his trench coat, and placed it on the rack, now only wearing the white button-up and its tie. He strolled behind the bar of the kitchen and opened the fridge, Zariah leaning on the bar and giving him a thoughtful sort of surveying.

Virgil stood from the fridge, popped a can of soda open, and kicked the fridge closed, spotting her lingering gaze.

“What?” he asked, taking a sip.

“Whaddo you mean, good?” Zariah wondered.

Virgil hesitated, then sighed and ventured past the bar into the living room. “Really not supposed to talk about it…”

“Oh… come ooon,” Zariah pleaded, trailing after him as he sank into his recliner. “Is Michael’s brother gonna end up getting sued, or arrested, or something…?”

“No. Not that I know of,” Virgil replied, lifting the remote and turning the TV on. “But he very well might have if he kept on dealing with the drug-pushers out there.”

Zariah made a face, stepping past him and plopping down onto the couch.

“I thought you were looking into a couple of missing people?” she uttered.

“I am,” Virgil replied. “And both of those missing persons were engaging in deals with the Legion boys.”

“The Legion…?” Zariah said.

“Or the Legion gang… whatever the hell they call themselves,” Virgil shrugged. “They’re a criminal outfit that operates like a mafia. They also push all the newest drugs around here… and, apparently, they might just be in the business of human-trafficking, too. The two missing people I’m looking into were the Legion gang’s customers, and that’s the only thing that both of those people had in common.”

Zariah made a slow, quiet nod, looking down and thinking of Adrian. “Then maybe they’ll make fuck-ass disappear, too…”

Virgil turned and stared at her.

“I wouldn’t recommend you start hanging around with Zander Voltaire,” he remarked. “I don’t care if you hang around with his brother… but you should probably avoid him , because he’s involved with some bass-ackwards people.”

“Pfff… no problem,” Zariah grumped. “The dude seemed to hate me for no reason.”

Virgil nodded quietly, then gave her another look of intrigue.

“You’re not gonna try to make content out of those people, are you?” he asked her.

Zariah paused, smirking and shaking her head. Her father knew all about her interest in the supernatural, as well as her large presence online and her research into the Supernatural Paradigm—but he never really believed any of it. He always dismissed it all as speculation or fiction.

“Nooo… I wouldn’t shove a camera in Michael’s face and ask him if he’s a real-life vampire,” Zariah snickered.

Virgil nodded, glancing down at the large silver cross around her neck and pointing to it. “There is a way to test it, y’know. Just press that cross to his face and see if he lights on fire.”

“Oh my god… no,” Zariah breathed. “First of all, no, I do not wanna set him on fire… and second of all, that stupid cross thing is just a myth. And so is the garlic thing.”

“So is the whole thing,” Virgil quipped in response. “All vampires and everything about them is a myth.”

“Tch. Says you,” Zariah snarked.

Virgil chuckled and shook his head, facing the TV again.

Zariah watched him navigate to one of their streaming apps, and he turned one of his favorite crime dramas on, which played perfectly well with no freezing or buffering, meaning that their home internet was no longer having issues. So, she stood and headed back into her bedroom, sinking into her rolling chair and facing her computer.

She opened YouTube, found a very long video of grainy footage from a Villy V concert in 1985, and allowed it to play on her desktop’s screen as she flipped her main light off, crawled into bed, and went to sleep.