fuckin’ nervous at first, but those guys took us in, showed us the ropes, and rubbed off on us in ways that really helped our performances.
After the third gig, X had finally stopped puking right before going on stage.
I wasn’t sure what it was about Devon that drew me in. He was fuckin’ hilarious, for one, in a really dark and twisted kind of way. I liked that about him because I had been feeling pretty dark and fuckin’ twisted in my own head. In that state of mind, I really identified with him.
I was depressed, hurt, and angry. My Baby Girl…she had let me go, and it had fucked with my head.
I thought she felt the same. I thought she would move mountains to find me, but in the end…
In the end, it seemed I was the only one willing to move any fuckin’ mountains.
Devon appealed to me in a way that my brothers couldn’t. They knew I was hurting, but they didn’t understand it. X tried his best to cheer me up, but he was so fuckin’ happy, living the dream that was lost on me. He and Flipper got real tight then. And Jason and Sheri…who the fuck knew what was up with those two? I liked Sheri. She was good people. A little fucked up, but then which of us could say otherwise? In some way or another, we all had a bit of the fucked up in us.
So, I ended up spending a lot of time with Devon. We would pass the hours and days just drinking and doing other shit, and I ended up spilling my guts to him about everything, especially about Kenna.
After touring with them for six weeks, the venue split. Cornered Cannibal headed east, and we joined Train Wrecked and Lucifer’s Fall and went south. Devon and I kept in touch. We talked a few times a week for, like, an entire year. They were recording in Japan, and we were playing club circuits in Scandinavia.
Finnish people were fuckin’ nuts, by the way.
About two months before we were scheduled to start recording Moniker Mayhem in Switzerland, we had a six-week tour on the continent—Germany, France, Austria, and Northern Italy—with none other than Cornered Cannibal.
I was so happy to see Devon again. He was my best fuckin’ friend. X was sorta pissy, and I knew it was because he was jealous. He and I had always been so tight, but with the constant touring, it kinda wore down on all of us.
A couple of nights after we’d all joined up, Devon and I were hanging out in Jason’s room with Sheri, fuckin’ drunk and coked up. Sheri mentioned she had always wanted to take on three guys at once, and there we were, three guys, horny as fuck. I had never wanted Sheri like that. Plus, she was always around, so if I banged her, there would be no escaping her. To top it off, she was Jason’s. Since Jason never let anyone else up her cunt, Devon got her ass, and she sucked me off.
That was the night that got the ball rolling for Devon and I to go off and find girls on our own.
Devon…he knew places where to find chicks who liked some hardcore shit. Sometimes, Jason and Sheri would come with us, but most times, it was just Devon and me. We’d go find some chicks and bring them back to our hotel room. By this time, we just bunked together. Since we were on tour, it didn’t really matter where we slept.
At first, it was just rough sex. But he…he kept taking it to the next level. I told myself it was okay because these girls were looking for a bit of pain, maybe even a moderate amount, and I wanted to inflict mine on them. They were always consenting. I made sure of that. I already had enough guilt and heartache. I didn’t need to add more shit to my already steaming pile.
It was a high for me. And like any other high, I felt like garbage afterward. But it didn’t matter to me back then. I was already filthy. Baby Girl had let me go, and the girls I picked all reminded me of her in some way. Their hair was what usually drew me to them. Blondes and redheads, and sometimes—once in a great while—I’d see one with that fucking gorgeous copper hue. I was apeshit for that.