I need to sleep. I need to sleep.

I repeated the thought again and again. If I chanted it for long enough, maybe it would come true. I blinked, but I couldn't keep my eyes shut.

Staring through darkness, I could just make out Jake sleeping in the bunk across from me. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, and his arm was flung haphazardly across his face, hiding his scruffy beard. The sound of his breathing and intermittent snoring kept me up. The noise filled the space, ringing in my ears along with the dull roar of the bus's engine.

I pinched my eyes shut, like that might somehow block out the noise, and rested my head against the cold bus window on the far side of my bunk. My mind spun as thoughts tumbled around half-formed. I tried to latch onto them, but they remained out of reach, taunting me.

Stop thinking. Stop thinking.

I took a deep breath, but the humid air and the lingering smell of stale beer and sweat didn't help with my motion sickness. The bus jolted as we bumped over something on the road, and my stomach lurched. My head rattled against the window. I grimaced. The glass vibrated and buzzed like the bus was trying to shake itself apart. The bunk across from me creaked as Jake stirred and rolled over, but he didn't wake up.

Lucky bastard.

I wasn't going to sleep tonight. It wasn't going to happen. I took out my phone and hit the home button. The bright glow of the screen burned my dilated eyes, and I squinted until the display became clear.

2:47 a.m.

I scowled. How was it not even three yet? I'd been lying here for what felt like hours.

I flipped my phone to the camera and put it in selfie mode. There was just enough ambient glow from the emergency lights at the floor of the bus to illuminate my face. I pushed my mess of dyed-black hair out of my eyes, trying to untangle it. I needed to fix my roots, but I knew I would fuck it up for sure. Maybe I could get Veronica to do it for me.

The heavy bags under my eyes looked even darker than usual, but other than that, I didn't look too bad for a guy who hasn't slept in nearly three days.

I put on a slight smile and snapped a photo of myself. I took two more in case the first turned out bad. After sitting up, I opened Instagram and switched from the Make Them Scream shared account to my own. The screen froze for half a minute as it loaded, stretching to get signal. The bus's WiFi crapped out two days ago when someone spilled beer on the router, and we hadn't been able to get it working since.

"Come on." I shook the phone and tapped the cracked, smudged screen, like that might somehow help it load. "Stupid piece of shit." Finally, the main screen popped up, and I uploaded the picture of myself.

3am on the tour bus somewhere in Montana and I can't sleep. Too excited for the show tomorrow night. Looking forward to seeing all of your beautiful faces Seattle. xoxo Alex

After cringing at the caption I'd typed and vomiting in my mouth just the tiniest little bit, I added the obligatory hashtags:

#MakeThemScream #Wolfpack #DontBlinkTour2019 #Seattle #IveSoldMySoul #LoveMe #AttentionWhore #Desperate

I quickly backspaced the last four tags and hit the post button.

The loading screen spun for a few seconds, and then it stopped. I glanced at the upper left corner of the screen.

No service. Fuck.

I rolled my eyes.

Oh well. God bless Verizon's spotty service for preventing me from posting stupid shit to Instagram in the middle of the night.

I slipped my phone into my pocket and got up. The bus turned as it careened down the road, and I gripped the side of the bunk to keep myself from falling over.

Fucking Liz was driving like a crazy person.

I stumbled up the aisle to the front of the bus, bracing myself on the small plastic table that was bolted to the floor as we took another turn.

"Are you trying to kill us, woman?" I asked, plopping down in the passenger seat next to her.

Liz glanced at me, her blue eyes catching mine. They were bloodshot, and her heavy eyeliner and mascara were streaked and smudged like she'd been rubbing them. She always insisted on driving the night shift. Something about enjoying the peace and quiet.

"This road's so fucking narrow." She masked a yawn as she turned her attention back to driving. "I can hardly tell when a curve's coming up."

Tall pine trees towered around us like the walls of a cave. Their branches swayed in a gust, casting eerie shadows on the road ahead of us. We were in the middle of fucking nowhere. There weren't even any streetlights, just the bus's high-beams.

"Whose bright idea was it to book gigs in Chicago and Seattle two days apart, anyway?" I asked.

Liz chuckled and pushed her blond hair out of her face. She had it shaved on one side, which I thought made her look pretty hot. Although, Liz didn't have to do anything to look hot. She was 5'10", mostly legs, drop dead gorgeous and played the fucking drums. End of story.

"We're lucky Wolfpack even invited us on this tour," Liz said. "We just have to deal with the shitty schedule."

She drummed her black-and-white-painted fingernails on the steering wheel. She never listened to music when she drove. She liked to use the silence to make up her own rhythms. I wondered what was going on up there in that head of hers.

Wind howled as it beat against the bus. The road dipped down over a hill, curving through the thick, dark forest. The wheels screeched as we barreled around it, and I clenched my teeth, gripping the arm rest.

"Can I drive?" I asked.

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

"I have insomnia, not narcolepsy, Liz." I smirked, but her attention was still on the road. "I'm not going to just pass out while I'm driving or something."

Liz was quiet for nearly a minute. Her jaw tensed and released as she avoided making eye contact with me. "What happened at the show in Cleveland scared me, Alex," she finally responded.

"It wasn't a big deal."

"You passed out on stage. It was scary."

"The paramedics said it was probably just exhaustion. I'm fine." I noticed I was biting my nails, so I quickly pulled my hand away from my teeth and balled it into a fist at my side.

"They also said you should go to a doctor and get checked out, which you haven't done."

"Maybe I'll do that after the tour. I don't have the time for making an appointment or anything right now. I can't miss a show."

Liz snorted. "You're going to die young, Alexander Pierce. But it's not going to be because you pass out driving our tour bus and crash. That would mean I'd die too, and that ain't gonna happen."

I rolled my eyes and stared out the windshield. The string of Mardi Gras beads hanging from our rear view mirror clanked as they swung back and forth like a metronome. I focused on the winding road ahead of us, where the dark shapes of pine trees zoomed by, creeping in closer and closer the further we went. The lanes were so narrow, I wasn't even sure a car would be able to pass going the other direction.

I leaned back in the seat. My eyelids felt like they were weighted down by anchors. The exhaustion was painful, but my body wouldn't let me fall asleep. I didn't tell Liz, but the reason I didn't want to get checked out wasn't because I didn't have the time. It was because I was scared. What if there actually was something wrong with me? What if they couldn't fix it?

My eyes slipped closed for a second. I immediately snapped them back open, shaking my head to clear my mind. It was better if I didn't know. It was better if I could keep pretending there was nothing wrong. I could live like this.

Shifting in my seat, I searched through the pocket on the passenger side door until I found an energy drink. Liz must have bought it when she stopped for gas . . . but it was mine now! When I cracked it open, the wonderful and sick smell of chemicals filled the air.

Liz glanced at me as I took a sip. "I'm sure that's helping with your insomnia, Alex. That will help you get right to sleep."

"I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight regardless. I might as well not be completely exhausted."

"Have you told Jake and Reggie about it yet?"

"About what, that I have trouble sleeping? No, I haven't told them, Liz."

"You really should." She tightened her grip on the steering wheel for a second before relaxing it. "I think Jake is worried about you. He asked me if I thought you were on drugs." She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye.

"I'll think about it," I said as I looked away.

Liz and I were quiet for a minute. I stared out the front window as we drove, slowly drinking the energy drink. Liz yawned, and I passed it to her. She took a long gulp before passing it back.

"Do you ever miss me?" I asked.

"What?" Liz forced a laugh. "I see you every day, Alex. How could I miss you?"

"You know what I mean."

"Alex . . ." Liz turned to face me, and the bus drifted in its lane.

I glanced at her out of the corners of my eyes, waiting for her to finish her sentence.

I blinked.

When my eyes flashed back open, something bright and white burned in front of me—two glowing balls of fire roaring down the road.

What the . . .

It only took me two seconds to realize what was going on, but it was two seconds too long.

"Liz!" I screamed. I dove towards her and grabbed the steering wheel.

"Fuck!" Liz turned her attention ahead, pushing me back into my seat. The set of headlights flew towards us. The pickup truck was right in the middle of the road! What was it doing? It was going to hit us!

In a split second, Liz jerked the wheel, and our bus screeched to the side.

I gripped my seat. The front wheels went airborne for an instant as we flew into a ditch. My stomach turned with weightlessness, like I was going over a drop on a roller coaster. My vision darkened around the edges.

Liz's arm pressed against my chest to protect me, but when we came crashing to a stop, I flew forward. My head smashed into the dashboard.

Then, everything went dark.