Read Hater for Free Online

drummer to pound out a few more empty and unaccompanied beats before he stops too. Now Lizzie, me, the rest of the band and the entire audience are staring at the slowly swaying figure of Swill standing awkwardly in the spotlight.
    The crowd doesn't like it. For a few seconds there's been an uneasy quiet but now the audience is beginning to turn. People are shouting out insults and there's a slow handclap starting. I've got no idea what's wrong. It makes me feel nervous. Just wish something would happen…
    I think he's about to walk off. Swill takes a couple of steps back and then stops. Now he's taken hold of his guitar and he's swung it round his head so that it's no longer hanging round his neck. He's standing still again now, looking around the stage, oblivious to the jeers and shouts from the hundreds of people who are staring at him and yelling at him to get on with it and start playing. Cush starts to approach him and now Swill moves. He suddenly bursts into life and moves quickly and unexpectedly to his left. Holding the guitar by its neck he swings it around again, now gripping it like a weapon. He lunges towards Simmonds, the lead guitarist, and swings the instrument round once more, catching him full on the side of this head. Simmonds tried to lift his hand to block the blow but the attack was so quick and unexpected that he wasn't able to properly defend himself. The force of the impact has sent him reeling back into the drum kit, clutching his jaw. But that's not the end of it. Swill is standing over him now and he's started smashing the guitar down on him again and again. Bloody hell, he's hitting him so hard that the wooden instrument has begun to splinter and smash. I don't understand. Maybe they had an argument before they came on stage or something like that? This guy has always made a big deal out of the fact that he's a pacifist. Now look at him! What the hell did Simmonds do to deserve this? McGuire is trying to separate them now...
    The audience is starting to turn nasty. We've stood together and watched in disbelief but now people are starting to react to what they're seeing. Many of the people right down at the front are trying to push their way out, a small minority are cheering on the violence and are trying to get closer chanting 'Swill, Swill...' and egging him on. Most of us are just stood staring at the stage. I look up again and I can hardly believe what I'm seeing. Swill is standing centre-stage again now, swinging a metal microphone stand around in a wide arc. Simmonds is flat on his back in what's left of the drum kit and he's not moving. McGuire's crawling across the stage on his hands and knees, trying to get to him. Now two roadies have rushed Swill. One of them catches the full force of a swipe with the mike stand right across his chest, the other dives and wraps himself around the musician's waist and tries to grapple him down. He's having none of it. He kicks and punches him off and tries to scramble away. He trips over the monitors and disappears down into the dark pit between the stage and the security barriers. There's a wail of feedback that sounds like a scream.
    Lost him.
    Can't see him.
    Suddenly he appears again. He's pushed his way out through the barriers and is running into the crowd. His MAG T-shirt is ripped and now hangs round his neck like a rag. The audience react with a strange mixture of fear and adulation. Some people run away from him, others run towards him.
    'Let's go,' Lizzie shouts to me.
    'What?'
    'I want to go,' she says again. 'Now, Danny, please. I want to go.'
    People are starting to try and move away from the stage area in large numbers. The house lights come up and everyone's speed suddenly seems to increase now that they can see where they're going. We're pushed and jostled towards the exits by shocked and frightened people criss-crossing in every direction, trying to get away from the trouble before it gets any worse. In the middle of the hall the