Prologue There comes a time in every man’s life where he must face his demons. It sounds cliché, I know. But I break the mold. Because I’ve faced my demons. In the flesh. And I’ve won. But it’s the ones inside your head that don’t die. They keep living. My personal demons? They’ve gotten worse since the incident. They’ve grown now. They own me. When I was fifteen years old, I made a deal with the Devil—or at least one of his spokeswomen—on the muddy red banks of Lake Shasta, California. I wanted talent, fame, and fortune. The demons upheld their end of the bargain. They gave me everything I ever wanted. I joined a band called Hybrid, made my way to guitarist, and propelled the band into stardom. We gave Led Zeppelin a run for their money. We got pussy galore (no, not Honor Blackman). We had everything. Including the final thing. My final wish. That Hybrid go down in history. We did. There was a music journalist brought on by Creem magazine to cover the whole event. Our last tour (unbeknownst to anyone but me and our manager, Jacob). Her name was Dawn. She was young, beautiful, and our biggest fan.