Rowan waited until the van had stopped and was idling at the corner where the local movie theater sat, her nerves fraying more by the second. Jenna rubbed a comforting hand on her back, pointing to the back of a boy who was watching the opposite corner.

“Is that him?” she asked, and Rowan shrugged.

“I guess so,” the younger girl replied, her voice unsteady and betraying her false sense of calm. “See you guys at ten-thirty, right?”

“See you then,” Lights promised. They’d all piled in the van with her, promising to stop out of sight so he wouldn’t get suspicious of who might be in the van. Rowan really didn’t want to explain how she knew almost every female on the tour like old friends.

Rowan stepped slowly from the van, closing the door comparatively fast in her wake, waving one last time before ushering them to drive off and making her way as if crossing a land-mine toward Tanner. She knew the boy Jenna had gestured toward was Tanner but she didn’t want the girls to know for some reason. She finally reached him and took a moment to swallow, feeling butterflies erupt in her stomach, and tapped his shoulder softly, her voice nearly a whisper, “Tanner?”

The boy turned, his blond hair had been gelled to stay out of his mossy eyes, his tan skin shone under the low glow of the theater’s outside lights, and his smile was dazzling. “Wow,” he breathed, and Rowan felt vaguely like the female heroine of a teen romance novel again, as only he seemed to be able to make her feel. She flushed and looked down, taking in his outfit of black skinny jeans and grey short-sleeved button down, a casual leather jacket over top and matte grey Doc Martens on his feet. The darkness of the outfit made his skin seem more golden, his smile more white, his eyes more stunning than before. His eyes drank in Rowan’s appearance as well but she was too preoccupied with taking in his look to be embarrassed.

“Hi,” she finally mumbled, an unavoidable smile twisting her words, as he didn’t seem inclined to speak yet.

“Hey,” he said, blinking a few times before wrapping her up in a hug. She froze, unable to move, and wasn’t sure how to respond. She didn’t want to seem weird or rude, but she also didn’t feel comfortable enough yet to let this boy wrap his arms around her. He seemed to sense her distress and released her quickly, taking a step back and looking frantic. “Sorry, that was too fast, huh? I just, you look so, and I– Well, I mean… Sorry.”

Rowan felt instant regret at making him feel like she was upset with him, she was more upset with herself than anything else. “No, no! It’s not like that. It’s not… you. I just… uh, I don’t do too well with, like, contact, uh, sometimes…”

She realized too late how idiotic her words sounded but she couldn’t take them back, she just hoped against hope he wouldn’t excuse himself from the night and run. To her relief, he looked calmed, “Oh, okay. No contact, sometimes. Okay. That’s fine.”

Rowan wasn’t sure where to look or what to say and so she settled for gazing at the screen with movie times, not even knowing what they were planning to see. “So, um, what’s on that’s good?”

Tanner looked up at the screen as well, shook his head, and shrugged. “Nothing up there is– Fuck, that was about to sound so cheesy.”

Rowan arched one brow and looked up at him curiously, “Well, now you have to say it. It won’t do to keep a lady waiting…”

“Well, when you put it like that… I was gonna say…” he said, with a sigh and a breathy chuckle, “God this sounds like a pick up line but, I’m being honest, I was gonna say nothing up there seems interesting enough to stare at when I’ve got you here.”

Rowan blushed ferociously, dropping her eyes quickly to her glittery clutch as she pressed her thumb against the sparkles in an attempt to make indents in the pad of her finger. “You’re right,” she finally replied with a giggle, looking back up at him with a smile, “it sounded like a super cheesy line.” Now it was his turn to blush, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck, so she went on to quiet his nerves. “But it was cute. So, thanks.”

“Of course,” he muttered, still clearly embarrassed by speaking his mind. He was attractive, obviously, so Rowan had assumed he’d be much more experienced at this. Perhaps even a womanizer, but he appeared to be just as nervous as she, a fact that made her feel instantly more comfortable. “Well, since the movie plan is kinda out the window, will you come with me?”

He offered her his hand, waiting for her to take it, but Rowan hesitated. She hated herself for hesitating, but she couldn’t help it. “Where?”

“On an adventure,” he said cooly, his air of confidence from the afternoon prior back to hang in the night around him like a heady cologne that drew her in inexplicably.

Without another word she took his hand, feeling his warm, larger palm close around her ever-chilled, smaller one in a calming way. “Okay,” she agreed, and he began to lead her away from the theater.

It was dusky but the lights of busy shops on either side of the town’s main street gave enough light to feel comfortable. It was quiet at first, but finally Rowan’s instincts took over again and she asked, “But really though, where?”

“You don’t like surprises, do you?” Tanner challenged coyly, and Rowan shook her head confidently in return. “Well, too bad. It’s the things in life that scare us that we learn most from.”

“What are you, a fortune cookie?” she teased, but the unsettled feeling in her stomach persisted. Rowan couldn’t tell if it was still nerves from being on her first date or if it was her gut telling her something more, reminding her to be careful. She blocked out that side of her mind as best she could, wanting to enjoy the night without her usual incessant string of nagging thoughts and paranoid fantasies.

“Well, seeing as you don’t really know me yet, I guess you’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?” he joked back, shooting her a winning smile she was sure he used to get whatever he wanted in life.

Rowan nodded, “You’re right, we don’t really know each other. Let’s fix that.”

“Good plan,” he said, then guided her to turn a corner that led to a less busy street. This one was lined with much more quaint shops, a local cafe in place of a Starbucks and a family-owned Italian restaurant in place of a Pizza Hut. It reminded Rowan of something from a postcard, something that cute little beach towns had that made you feel like you were living in a different era. “This way,” he went on, again tugging her to turn off the street, this time onto a small brick path between two buildings.

“Uh, it’s kinda dark down here, don’t you think?” Rowan tried not to make it obvious but she was freaking out, trying to remember where they’d come from in case she needed to get away fast. Why was she here with some stranger? She didn’t know this kid from Adam! He could be an axe murderer!

“What, scared of the dark?” he joked again, then caught sight of her expression. “Oh shit, sorry. This is just the only way I know to get there, I promise you’re safe, I’ll protect you.”

Tanner flexed the arm that wasn’t holding her hand, exposing a little bit of muscle beneath the tight shirt and jacket. It made her laugh, her stress subsiding in the face of his lightheartedness. She giggled, “You’d better.”

As they walked on, nearing the end of the alley, he held her hand tighter, walking a bit more ahead of her, and made quite a show of peeking behind trash cans and boxes to ensure their safety. He was doing it to make her smile, and it was working, which made him smile. They emerged from the end of the hidden pathway and found themselves in an abandoned park. In fact, it looked like a raw clearing, not man-made or altered. It was bordered by a fringe of trees that Tanner was headed straight for.

“C’mon,” he encouraged, “you’ll love this.”

Rowan was afraid to upset anyone, unsure of how most reacted to being disobeyed based on childhood experience, but it wasn’t just those memories that compelled her further, it was also the fact that she wanted to see this place. She wanted to see what made this boy’s eyes light up like a kid on Christmas. So she continued to follow, into the trees and further from her past with each step. There was a gap approaching and Tanner began to slow down, his excitement building, until he waved her through the last break of trees. He made an elaborate gesture toward what lay ahead and Rowan was glad she’d decided to follow after all.

A giant oak tree stood before them, branches perfect for climbing, with a small treehouse nestled between leaves and limbs. “Whoa,” she breathed, and Tanner nodded back.

“I know, right?” Tanner’s hand pulled hers toward the tree, pointing toward the first branch to mount and offering her a hoist up. “Is this… okay?” he verified, about to put his hands on her hips to help her up. She nodded slowly, unsure herself but wanting to get up there nonetheless. “Alright,” he said, smiling as he helped her climb the tree, always mere inches behind her.

Finally they got to the small opening of the treehouse, revealing the inside to be full of gas lamps and books, piles of pillows and blankets, and a feeling of comfort. It wasn’t huge but as Tanner lit the lamps it began to feel spacious enough. Rowan, leaning against the side of the treehouse that was lined with pillows galore, let her fingers ghost over the covers of the most worn-in books, everything from Gatsby to Harry Potter.

“Yeah,” Tanner chuckled breathily, coming to sit beside her as he noticed the subject of her attention, “I’m a bit of a nerd, I guess.”

“No, no,” Rowan shook her head, smiling shyly up at him, made all the more timid by his proximity as well as their location. “I love to read too. So, how’d you find this place?”

“It was my old babysitter’s hangout when she was in high school. She’s, like, married now so no one else uses it. I started coming here by myself a couple years ago. I like it a lot.” Tanner was leaning casually against the pillows and Rowan could feel the electricity between them, mere inches apart.

Tanner’s eyes slid up from the blanket he draped over them both to meet hers, something shining in his orbs that Rowan couldn’t read, causing that sense of unease to return in earnest. She was nervous and it manifested itself in an inability to stop talking. Words began to stream from her lips in some sort of endless torrent against her will. “It’s really cool in here. I mean, maybe a little claustrophobic after a while, but still, pretty cool. I loved to climb trees when I was little and we had a couple in my back yard that were perfect for a treehouse but I never got one. So I could see why this’d be a pretty cool hangout. Have you brought many people here? I mean, not just girls, but friends too? I guess girls too. Not that I think you’re with a lot of girls. Although you might be. I wouldn’t really know. I also wouldn’t judge or anything, not my place. Maybe you have a lot of girlfriends. Not like girlfriends, but like friend-girls? I dunno, maybe you just have guy friends. I haven’t been at full-time school since I was really young so I’m not really sure what’s typical. All I have to go on are the psychology books I had to read for college, that was my minor, but those are always written from the perspective of like grumpy adults who poke around in their clients’ heads for information to write a book about and make money and win awards and stuff. Not really a good basis for opinions on how real teens operate. But about you bringing people here, I guess you really couldn’t fit many in here. Like, it’s not too small. But it’s cozy enough you couldn’t really bring a whole group in here–”

Rowan was rescued from the senseless babbling that fell from her lips in a mangled garble by Tanner chuckling again, causing her to blush in absolute mortification. Tanner must have sensed her change in demeanor in reaction to his laugh and seemed to sober up quickly. “Keep going,” he urged her, “I wasn’t finished listening.”

Rowan waited a moment, studying him hard, looking for anything that told her he was making fun of her. But she couldn’t find anything. He seemed genuine, slouching further into the pillows and propping his head on his hand, taking her breath away. She took a few deep draws of oxygen before squinting at him one more time and finally believing his words. She sighed, “Well, what did you wanna hear?”

---

Vic looked at his phone for the third time in the past minute, the vibration seeming almost constant as a myriad of texts poured in, beginning with one from Kellin that’d been an introduction to a group chat.

From Kellybear:
Party @ SWS bus, now till load out! Full bar & epic music, see you fuckers there!

Vic was shocked to say the least, he knew Rowan was out for the evening but was Kellin really planning to throw a party, with alcohol no less, when she’d be coming home that night? Maybe he expected everyone to be gone by the time Rowan arrived back at the bus but that was unlikely seeing as telling drunk rockers to get the fuck out rarely actually worked. Still, Kellin had sent it to almost the entire tour. Unsure how to proceed, Vic had put his phone down initially and focused on Skyping his girlfriend. Before he could apologize for getting distracted, though, his phone began to blow up with responses.

From Turtle:
Jaime & I will be there man

From Ben Bruce:
fuck yeah! we’ll bring the Jack!

From Ryan Seaman:
Count on it dude!

From Johnny B:
the GS boys are on our way

From Mike:
so down!

From C.C.:
otw! Don’t go jumping off roofs till we get there!

From Jack Kat:
We’re headed tf over now!

From T.J. Bell:
let’s get fucked up!!!!

From Alan A.:
Bisch, party don’t start till om&m walk in!

From Tyler C.:
wtf! Hell yeah!

From Sanders:
Hell fuckin yeah!

From Josh F.:
Headed your way in need of a drink!

From Jake G.:
Full bar? Fuck yeah!

From Nikki Misery:
Save some for us, mother fuckers!

From Whakio:
Aussies coming over to make this party rock \m/

From Levi:
we’re in, kell!

Vic sighed, running his hands through his hair exasperatedly. Whatever the hell was going on in Kellin’s head it was too late to stop now, Vic had no choice but to head over and chaperone. He knew Kellin was pissed about the way the afternoon had ended with Rowan but acting out and throwing a party like a surly teen rebelling against strict parents wouldn’t help anything. At this point Vic just wanted to make sure Kellin didn’t do anything he’d regret later.

“Baby, what’s going on?” Danielle asked, her pixelated image showing her expression to be twisted in concern.

“Kellin’s being a dick, that’s what,” Vic said with a sigh, only half-kidding. “I think I’ve gotta go babysit.”

“Is everything okay? What about Rowan?” Dani pressed, wishing she could help despite the distance between herself and her boyfriend.

“She’s fine, out with a friend. It’ll all be fine, I’ve just gotta go make sure.” His smile at simply seeing her face and hearing her voice dropped a bit as his eyes flickered to his phone again and again as messages rolled in. “I’m sorry, babe.”

“Don’t be,” she assured him, her own smile seeming a bit forced as she always hated saying goodbye. “I love you.”

“You too,” he replied, waiting for her to say goodnight before closing out Skype and exiting his bunk. “Hey!” he called toward the front of the bus. “We going to this party or what?”

With his bandmates in tow, Vic marched his way to the Sleeping With Sirens bus, trying hard to keep his rage inside. He was just going to act like nothing was wrong, just hang out and keep an eye on Kellin. Maybe he had it all wrong, maybe Kellin didn’t plan to drink at all. Maybe it was Jesse or Justin’s idea. Maybe Kellin just wanted to distract himself but wasn’t going to let it effect Rowan at all. Still, Vic had known Kellin long enough to have a better sense of him than that… he knew this wouldn’t go well. As soon as they got close, Vic saw someone had brought over a fold-out, light-up beer pong table and set it up outside the bus’s door. Music was blasting, people were already on their second or third drinks, and the smell of weed wafted through the air like a cheap frat party. The moment they reached the bus’s door, Vic’s bandmates seemed to evaporate into the growing crowd packed dangerously close inside, leaving Vic to wander through the crowd in search of Kellin.

He reached the bunks and, not having seen his friend yet, Vic nudged and shoved until he reached Kellin’s bunk. Vic pushed back the curtain but no one was inside, instead Vic found a few crumbled up balls of paper. Smoothing one out, Vic read messy words through various scratches and circles and other mark-ups.

She doesn’t know she’s beautiful
Because no one’s ever told her so
And the demons that
_________________^ has are all she knows

Vic puzzled over what the words meant, they were fragmented and senseless without context, but reading on he pieced together that they must be lyrics Kellin had been working on.

[All she wanted was to be enough
So what does it take?
Maybe it's not too late] (< part of bridge)

[When all you got is these four walls
It's not that hard to feel so small] (pt of v1??)

This was clearly unfinished, not even really a song at all, but Vic was almost relieved to see it. Though he was unsure when these were even written, he guessed that they were recent and he was sure he knew the muse. He pressed another wad of paper flat and tried to read through the scribbles.

{Maybe I’m better off dead
If I was, would it finally be enough
To shut out all these voices in my head?
Maybe I'm better off dead
Better off dead!
Can’t they Did you hear a word
Hear a word I said?
This is not where I belong
You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone}
(^ part of chorus? ^)

Vic’s concern grew as he realized the basic theme of the song, something all too real and all too honest, but in some way they seemed cathartic. He hoped so, at least. The papers fell from his hands and onto the bunk once again by a passerby knocking into Vic, leading him to sigh, close off the bunk with its curtain, and return to searching for Kellin. He forced himself through the crowds and finally found Kellin.

Sprawled on the floor of the back lounge, the raven haired front man’s mouth was hanging open and a flood of laughter poured from him. A dark spot on his shirt and the empty bottle cradled in Kellin’s left hand told Vic that his friend had fallen and spilled his drink onto himself, because of—or subsequently causing—some bout of hilarity that swallowed Kellin’s sensibility. The crowd had made a spot wide enough to allow for Kellin’s antics, Vic supposed this was because they were too drunk to attempt to catch him instead, and as Vic plowed through and grabbed Kellin by his shoulders those around them began to turn curiously to watch the scene unfold.

Vic, with all of his strength, hauled Kellin to his unsteady feet and tried to attain eye-contact. Kellin’s orbs were glassy and unfocused, making Vic roll his own coffee colored irises. “Kell!” Vic snapped loudly, his grip on Kellin’s shoulders tight enough to leave slight bruises, but Kellin’s response wasn’t ashamed or abashed as Vic had hoped— instead his captive giggled. “What the fuck are you thinking?” he pressed, but Kellin still remained elsewhere mentally.

“Hey, man, loosen up,” Kellin practically chided his friend, as if Vic was the one who needed a scolding. “Comehaveabeer*,” he slurred, offering his empty bottle to Vic, looking down at his hand and realizing it was empty, and frowning at it. “Hmph,” he huffed in annoyance before mumbling, “lemme go, I gotta get another beer.”

“Hell no, I’m not!” Vic scoffed, wishing this conversation was a private one but he was forced to shout to be heard over the music. In an attempt to isolate Kellin and get some sort of logical response, Vic drug his friend through the throng once again and into the warm summer’s night air. Those surrounding the beer pong table were playing recklessly and raucously, again pushing every button Vic didn’t know he had. As he continued to lug almost dead-weight, Vic seethed. He’d had many fights with his impressively inebriated brother before, as well as his bandmates and friends, but never had he felt this intense boiling hatred for all things intoxicating. Never had he wanted to punch his best friend in the face hard enough to knock every ounce of consumed alcohol from his system. Never had he felt like a middle aged father reprimanding his underage and drunken son with the threat of military school.

By the time they’d finally found a spot to talk, tucked behind the next bus over, Vic’s anger was at an all time high. He wasn’t sure what he was about to do, he felt out of control of it, and every time he tried to calm down long enough to speak sensibly he would see Rowan’s terrified face as she suffered one night terror after another in the hospital. Unconscious, unaware of Vic’s existence at all much less his presence, but terrified of something Vic couldn’t even comprehend, a pain he knew intimately but yet was distantly separated from—and his blood pressure skyrocketed again.

“Vicky, man, you’re grabbing my arm too tight,” Kellin whined, pouting and tugging at his grasped arm to no avail.

“Shut up,” Vic hissed, trying desperately to keep his anger in check so as not to permanently injure Kellin. “Just… shut up. Now, can you please explain to me what the actual fuck is going on in your head? What on Earth made you think getting drunk and– hold on, do I smell nicotine on you?” Vic sniffed Kellin’s hair, an action that made the object of Vic’s attention chuckle aggravatingly. “I do,” Vic all but growled, “I smell fucking nicotine. And I’m gonna guess you didn’t just make out with Andy Biersack so… You drank and you’re fucking smoking again? What the fuck!”

“Dude,” Kellin mumbled drunkenly, “chill. I don’t know what you’re all twisted up about buh* it’s just a couple beers an* I could be doing waaayyyy worse! Besides, I’m a rock star! This is what I’m supposed to do anyway!”

“Kellin. Quinn. Bostwick.” Vic snarled, grabbing both of Kellin’s shoulders so as to force eye-contact, “I do not care what your profession is or what all the cool kids are doing, you have a daughter to think about.”

“Well, she’s certainnie* not thinking about me,” Kellin butt in like a surly toddler.

“I also don’t care about that. It doesn't matter what she’s doing. It doesn’t matter if she hadn’t spoken to you in a month or if all she did was insult you and try to sneak out. She’s a goddamn teenager! She’s allowed to be one! In fact, I am proud of her for having the strength to put aside her past for a minute and act her age. You, on the other hand, are the adult. You agreed to take care of her. You agreed to be there for her no matter what. And I know in your heart of hearts that you still mean all of those things, but you’re not acting like it right now. And I know it isn’t easy, but you need to stop trying to take every burden on your own shoulders, you’re overloading yourself! Share the weight. Please. Because if you don’t let us in to help… if you don’t let her in to help… then both of you are doomed.”

Vic paused, unsure how much of that had reached Kellin through the fog of alcohol and whatever else was floating through his veins. Kellin blinked blearily before taking a shuddering breath, and though his following words were still slurred and almost incomprehensible, Vic knew that a drunk Kellin was one of the most honest and vulnerable Kellin’s you could find. “You don’t getet*. There’s things she doesn’t say, there’s– there’s stuff she won’t say buh* I know what it is buh* I need to hear her say it because I can’t believe it… Rowan’s not always who you think she is… trust me. There’s so much more going on and she won’t FUCKING LET ME IN!”

To cap off his outburst, Kellin struck the side of the bus with his fist, apparently forgetting he still clutched a bottle there, at the same time he kicked the tire and screamed his words. With an almost eerie calm Kellin gazed down at his hand, ignoring Vic’s rushed questions about whether or not he was okay and his attempts to pull the shattered object from Kellin’s grip, and let the largest pieces of brown glass fall to the grass below. His eyes were still wide and glossed-over as he idly picked smaller shards from his palm before wiping his bloody hand down his beer-soaked tee, his apparent disinterest and numbness sending a chill down Vic’s spine. There was something more to Kellin’s small speech but now wasn’t the time to press him.

Rubbing his own hand down his face in frustration, Vic sighed. “C’mon, we need to get you cleaned up.”

Vic was once again heaving Kellin through the crowd but this time people made way as soon as they saw the pair. Vic understood why after he let go of Kellin to grab a towel from the bathroom. Vic, distractedly running cold water over a stray hand towel, realized there was a smeared handprint blurring his face with maroon liquid. Resisting the urge to slap himself for his stupidity, he remembered rubbing his face after trying to pull glass from Kellin’s bloodied hand. They must’ve been quite a sight to see, Vic mused, what with his bloody face and Kellin’s equally bloody hand and shirt.

Upon returning to the spot by the bunk where Vic last saw Kellin, he found the culprit had disappeared. Internally kicking the shit out of the man, Vic set out once again to find Kellin, now soaking in blood, beer, and sorrows.

---

“As they sang the hobbit felt the love of beautiful things made by hands and by cunning and by magic moving through him, a fierce and a jealous love, the desire of the hearts of dwarves…” Rowan cleared her throat, nearly hoarse from reading page after page from one of her favorite books. Tanner had interjected many times, causing them to spiral off into one topic or another of deep conversation about the book or life outside of it, but each time their words took a turn into anything more personal Rowan would awkwardly switch focus back to the book in her hands. He didn’t seem to outwardly mind, but Rowan could sense the tension of eagerness and anticipation and frustration vibrating beneath the surface of their every exchange like a roughly plucked guitar string.

“Rowan?” Tanner asked, capitalizing on the brief lapse of silence.

“Yeah?” she nearly croaked, swallowing and clearing her throat again in embarrassment.

But he didn’t say anything to follow. Slowly, Rowan made herself look up from the well-worn pages to find Tanner and assess his expression. He didn’t seem angry, more so puzzled. His brows were pulled so that a small crease formed just between them, his eyes pensive and his lips drawn into an almost calculating purse. In place of words, Tanner sat up slowly from his slumped position and suddenly Rowan’s heart was in her throat. She wasn’t sure what he intended to do but whatever it was she wasn’t ready. She thought she’d made that clear. But nevertheless Tanner was leaning in toward her, his hand turning the lamp down to an almost undetectable glow, his face now in shadow and his hand loosely on her knee. Rowan’s fingers clutched the pages of the book roughly, slipping only when his other hand laid to rest on her cheek, causing more than a few paper cuts. She tried to muster up words of protest but shock wore her too thin, her voice was like a disconnected, unreachable thing—like some kind of phantom limb she knew she once had and wished to operate again but had no access to. And between one jagged, fearful breath and the next Rowan’s lips weren’t alone.

Tanner tasted sweet and sharp, like spearmint, and Rowan reeled back in bone-deep terror. Tanner’s expression was still shrouded but she could tell his lips were forming words, though she couldn't hear him for the pounding blood in her ears. Again, he inched closer, this time more slowly, and Rowan wished more than anything for the ability to stand up and run. Motionless, she tried to remember how to make herself stand. How to run away. How to save herself. But just like she had for years prior, Rowan let her instincts take over and went limp, her memories telling her that staying quiet and letting it happen was the safest way. So Tanner was at her again, and she could tell through the haze of PTSD that he wasn’t aggressive but it felt that way to her even so. He’d pried the book from her fingers, her back now against the wall behind her, and he tried to put his hand on her hip.

Without any warning, all of her senses came back to her at once. Rowan was hit full force by the smell of mint, and the image of Tanner’s face over hers, and the taste of the coppery tang of her blood—she must’ve bitten her lip, she mused distantly—but worst of all she was consumed by the sound of Tanner’s voice as he murmured to her.

“I really like you, Rowan… I won’t hurt you… You’ll like it… It’s just a kiss… You know you want it too… Don’t be scared… It’s just me… C’mon, hon…”

The words were empty and Rowan was sickened by the sound. She was revolted by the fact that she was able to push him back but it didn’t deter him. She was disgusted by the thought that she fell into this trap, that Kellin was right.

In that moment, only a few minutes time that seemed to stretch into hours, Rowan wanted nothing more than to run back to the bus, straight through the front door and into Kellin’s bunk, to curl up into his side and tell him how sorry she was.

“Stop, Tanner,” she’d tried, but he persisted. “Please, no. Stop. Please.”

Her pleading fell on deaf ears. Rowan felt hands gripping the skirt of her dress roughly, heard a ripping sound, and felt the waistline come undone just a bit. Lips were at her throat and then at her jaw and once again on her lips. This time the kiss tasted of pennies and saltwater, alerting Rowan to the tears dripping from her lashes like silent pleas for mercy. The harder she fought the harder he fought back. Suddenly Rowan couldn’t take it anymore and the next time she felt his swollen lips try to brush hers she clamped her teeth down hard. Looking like someone waking from a dream, Tanner pulled back and put his hand to his lips, drawing it away to see a ruby stain coating his fingertips.

“What the fuck?” he breathed angrily, shaking his head and locking furious eyes with hers. “You little bitch.”

But this time Rowan didn’t let him pin her down. With all the strength she had to offer, Rowan backhanded his right cheek and felt an instant fire spread through her veins. In one movement she was on her feet, kicking him in the stomach for good measure, and jumping through the door after throwing her clutch to the ground below. She climbed down the tree, splinters sticking into her palms and knees like dull, filthy needles. As soon as her feet hit the ground, Rowan scooped up the bag and was running with all her might, not entirely sure where she was going but knowing where she wanted to end up.

Rowan’s lungs stung, crying out for a break, but she only pushed herself harder. Ignoring the dull pain in her feet and the blisters she could feel forming on her ankles and heels, she forced herself on. After what felt like hours of running, she could see the fairground in the distance, nothing but a dot but it was hope. Relief stole through her like the first sip of water after being stranded in the desert. Pressing herself on with renewed vigor, Rowan found that her breaths came easier with the knowledge that soon she would be in the safety of her father’s arms.

Like a camera finding its focus, the distant blur of buses became a clear vision of reassurance. As she pulled out her pass and greeted the guard without breath, Rowan began searching for her family’s bus. She knew what it looked like and where it was but upon finding such a bus she doubted herself, surely that raging party wasn't taking place in Sleeping With Sirens’s bus. But upon seeing the sign in the front window she realized it was indeed. Then… Rowan wasn't sure she had the strength to proceed. Kellin must be somewhere in this crowd, angry and distraught and waiting to hear from her. Rowan figured this party had been Justin’s idea, he seemed the type, but it must be bothering Kellin. Deciding to push herself on, not patient enough to call him, Rowan wound through the first drunken group. Next she faced a small crowd and took a deep breath, inhaling lungs full of what was obviously marijuana. Coughing, Rowan saw Mike amidst the group and quirked a brow, but he only grinned lazily in return. Rowan almost ran straight into a table that had cups on either end—beer pong—but finally found herself shoving through the crowd and into the bus’s front door. Making her way through the sardine-packed bodies, Rowan searched high and low for her dad. Probably in his bunk, she figured, but upon throwing open the curtain discovered it to be empty. The music shook the ground beneath her and made her very bones vibrate, the lights were low and small strobes had been brought in for the occasion. The sights and sounds and memories and anxieties and fears began to choke Rowan with fiery fingers, making her stomach twist painfully.

Desperation to find Kellin began afresh in her veins, propelling Rowan forward once more in her search. Hearing a distinct laugh, she froze. No. Surely not. But something told her to check anyway. It was loud, loud enough to be heard over the music, and she knew it well enough to know…

Rowan pushed and pulled through bodies until it opened up suddenly and she saw something that made bile rise in her throat. In the middle of the empty pit surrounded by people, Kellin was to be seen with a bottle of Jack in either hand and a beer bong being held to his lips by Jack Barakat. He was drunk off his ass, it was clear by the way he yelled random words amidst a chorus of catcalls and stumbled to the ground. She couldn't look at him another minute and, swallowing back the acidic bubbling in her throat, Rowan’s heart fluttered in her chest as she bolted from the room to the sounds of Kellin cheering after downing his share.

Rowan’s brain couldn’t process it all, it was too much. Too many thoughts swarmed her head in the past day—well, week… well, the past few months really. She was overwhelmed by it all. The air around her seemed to thin like she was standing alone atop a mountain but the room around her was full of boisterous bodies, making her head spin. Unsure of where to turn, Rowan realized with poignant reverence again how different of a person she was now compared to just months earlier. She’d never before felt the need to turn to others in times of distress, she’d known how to handle herself no matter what life threw at her. Now, feeling like her lifeline had been pulled from her with brutal callousness, she didn’t know what to do with herself.

‘You knew this would happen,’ the voice inside her head whispered in a sickeningly saccharine tone, sending beads of cold sweat tumbling down her spine. Darting between people, Rowan dove for her bunk, resisting the urge to vomit. Jerking the curtain closed, she tried to keep her breaths even, wishing she had Alex’s voice in her ear to keep her calm rather than the abusive hisses of her own mind. ‘In and out. In and out,’she chanted to herself. But it wasn’t helping much, the music still pounded at an unhealthy decibel and the bus rocked with the movements of the rowdy group.

Deciding she could take no more, Rowan ripped her curtain back, dropping to her feet and ignoring the outcry of whoever’s foot she’d trampled. She reached for a wad of fabric in the corner and again set to weaving through the melee. Upon reaching the front door she bumped directly into someone but rather than stumbling back with slurred apologies as others had, this person maintained a grip on her shoulders.

“Rowan?” Vic’s familiar voice shouted, still sounding like a muffled murmur due to the bass that made her skin tingle with its power. She looked up at him with steely blue eyes, daring him to be intoxicated. But his eyes weren’t glassy or bloodshot and he smelled only of his deodorant and shampoo and sweat and cologne something else that she couldn't place that made Vic smell like Vic. Too upset to react wisely, Rowan began to try to twist out of his grip. Suddenly his hands on her felt too much like Tanner’s, like Scott’s before him… she was desperate to be freed. “Hey, stop, what’s going on? How’d you get here?!”

Rowan didn’t answer him, she just spun at the right angle and broke off from him, darting under his arm and out of the doors with a gasp of relief. She could hear his calls behind her for the second time that evening, and for the second time she kept running without a backward glance. She now had no clue where she planned on going and, upon doing a quick search while running, she discovered she’d left her purse and subsequently her phone on the bus. She bit her lip with a ferocity she wasn’t sure she had anymore, drawing more blood that mixed with the taste of dried tears and sweat on her lips. Running mindlessly between one bus and the next, Rowan realized she was running for the sake of running. In fact, her eyes flickered toward the gates again and she found that she wanted more than anything to run beyond these confines. She felt like a caged animal in a zoo, running in circles to sate a burning desire to run free. Her feet carried her past bus after bus, most empty but some packing up to prepare for the night’s drive, and toward the gate that would lead her to freedom.

Rowan wasn’t meant for this life, she decided. She couldn’t handle her every move being analyzed and controlled, every bite counted and her whereabouts always supervised. She was a caged raven here, trapped by hands that thought themselves caring. Clearly Kellin no longer felt that way. She knew the day was coming when he’d come to realize taking her in was a mistake, but she supposed she’d somehow wished it would be some day far away. It seemed too soon. But perhaps it was better this way. He’d wake up tomorrow somewhere on the road to Colorado and she would be gone. She’d be back to doing what she did best, fending for herself. He could go back to what he did best, being the man Rowan would love forever as a father. She could already feel the pit in her stomach growing heavier with the thought of living without him. Of waking up alone and worrying about living through the day and not knowing what movie he was watching or what new word Copeland was learning or how Katelynne was feeling or what new lyrics had come to him while they played a video game.

Rowan stopped, halfway to the gate, and doubled over. She let herself fall against the front grate of a bus for support as she sank to her skinny knees in despair. The thought of that world made her insides ache. The pain of it made the memory of being with Tanner seem insignificant. She couldn’t live that way. She couldn’t live in a world where Kellin didn’t wake her up with a kiss on her forehead and put her to sleep in just the same way. She couldn’t live a life that didn’t consist of goofing off side-stage with Vic or Matty or the girls. She couldn’t go on to live a life that never made her look around in awe at the amazing people surrounding her. She couldn’t live with the thought that she’d never see Cope’s first day of preschool or hear her tell another story about her favorite toy. She couldn’t live knowing that Katelynne was fighting the hardest battle of her life and Rowan wouldn’t be there to see her win.

Rowan’s cries had started softly but with each new thought her gasps became something different, something awful. She was clutching at her aching, concave stomach with thin fingers like daggers, her shoulders shook so violently that she worried they’d shatter. Her lungs felt as if they’d collapsed and her eyes produced a rivulet of burning saltwater that coated her cheeks and melted away any shred of self she’d had. Sobbing harder than she had in a long time, Rowan realized what had to be done. Kellin didn’t want her anymore, that much was clear, but she refused to live a life without him and his family. There was only one option.

Still, in order to do as she wished, she had to get out of here. It was dark and the buses would be starting up to drive soon, someone would recognize her eventually. Forcing herself to her trembling feet, Rowan leaned heavily against the bus. Once upright she took a few shuddering breaths, her newfound determination taking place of her disparaging thoughts and leaving no room for sobs. Silent tears still slipped down her cheeks but she scrubbed them off as soon as they appeared with the ball of fabric in her hands.

“Hey, are you alright?” The voice was one she knew distantly but she couldn’t place a face to it. Her back was turned to the person, one she assumed was a man, and she tried to walk quickly but without arousing suspicion before he could see her face or catch her. “Wait! You’re Rowan, right?”

So he knew who she was already and he was following her slow pace, that meant she had to run. But just as she took a breath to take off, a hand landed on her shoulder. Rowan jumped to the side to remove the hand as if it were on fire, slamming herself into the front of another random bus and therefore putting her back to a wall. Before her stood Ryan’s boyfriend, Josh. Recognition flashed between them in the silence and stillness following her abrupt movement. Had he been at the party? Was he drunk now? She couldn’t detect alcohol or any other substances on him for that matter, but you can never be too careful. Knowing she had to run like a lion was chasing her if she ever hoped to make it now, Rowan turned yet again to bolt.

“Hold on!” Josh said, his voice a mixture of caution, confusion, and concern. Again, his hand clapped onto her retreating shoulder and held her still, despite her efforts to remove it. “I’ll let go if you agree to stop trying to run,” he reasoned. Rowan still fought. “Fine, I’ll just stand here ‘till you tire yourself out.”

Rowan grunted as she tried to free herself but the guy was stronger than he looked. “Let go,” she demanded, but he ignored her. “I’ll talk if you let go.”

Slowly, Josh removed his hand, his eyes regarding her warily, “Okay, your turn. Talk.”

Instead of talking, however, she whirled around yet again and bounded forward. Josh caught her hand with ease and held her in place, but she stayed facing away from him, her eyes on the ground at her feet.

“I’ll tell Kellin you’re harassing me,” she attempted, but he scoffed. “Just leave me the fuck alone if you know what’s good for you.”

“Wow, pretty hostile… what’s got you all riled up and running around alone in the dark?” Josh’s air was joking but beneath it she could feel genuine worry and puzzlement.

“It’s none of your business,” she spat, knowing that soon enough no one would be able to do anything to her so she could speak however she wished.

“I beg to differ,” he replied smoothly, “seeing as just a minute ago you were bawling your eyes out into the front of my band’s bus.”

“It’s impossible for me to have cried into the front of your bus,” Rowan quipped, turning to look at him with sarcastic eyes but the message was muddled by their red and puffy rims.

“You know what I mean,” Josh said with equal dryness. “Now, if you’ll tell me why you were crying, I might let you go.”

Rowan rolled her itchy eyes and tried again in vain to shake off his grip, “As I said: none of your business.”

“And as we’ve established thus far, not only do I not care whether or not you are particularly inclined to talk, I’m not particularly inclined to let go until the mood so takes me.”

“It’s late, I have somewhere to be,” Rowan said with genuine annoyance and semi-faux urgency, “so if you don’t mind…”

“C’mon,” he sighed, all amusement draining from his voice like water from a cracked glass, “you were headed for the gates and, based on the fact that you’re alone and I know for a fact your dad was throwing a party and my girlfriend helped you get ready for a date that shouldn’t be over yet… you’re not headed anywhere you need to be going right now. Now, I won’t rat you out to Kellin…” Rowan, as annoyed as she was, felt a spark of relief and gratitude toward this guy. But then he went on. “If you come with me.”

“I don’t think going off with a guy I barely know this late at night is a smart move,” she shot back, “I think I’ll stick with my plans, thanks.”

“What plans?” Josh challenged, his expression flat.

Rowan blanked, her mouth formed wordless shapes and her heart leapt, but her eyes told Josh more than he was prepared for. He wasn’t sure what exactly she meant to say back but the reply was a muffled scoff and a jumble of words as she responded, “Nunevyerbiness.”

Josh looked at her hard, not wanting to play games or banter anymore. “Rowan, you seem like a really cool kid. I don’t know what you’re up to or what’s got you so upset, but I do know you’d really like me and my bandmates and none of us party so why don’t you hang with us for the night. When your dad’s sobered up you can let him know what your plans are and then go on with your life but for now… what can it hurt?”

‘That’s right,’ Rowan remembered that Josh and most of his bandmates were straight-edge. Without meaning to, she let herself break just a bit with the realization that he was sober, sane, and sweet. Resisting the baser instinct that told her to run, Rowan considered his proposal. If she left now—which was unlikely as a few more people were milling around the area and had nodded at her in polite greeting, not to mention the fact that Josh had a firm grasp on her that he didn’t seem inclined to release—he would tell her dad that he’d seen her like this and Kellin would probably feel obligated to double back and check on her which would slow down the whole band and ruin the tour. Shaking slightly still, Rowan glared at Josh’s hand where it clasped her own, acid still burning her tongue. She would try again when Josh turned his back on her. If that didn’t work she would wait till his bandmates were asleep and try to sneak out. She wouldn’t give up, but for now she had to play her part.

“Fine,” she huffed, “but only because I have no other choice apparently.”

Josh smiled despite himself, charmed by Rowan’s attitude, strength, and honesty. “We don’t bite, I swear.”

“Well, that’s disappointing. I thought you guys were vampires,” Rowan drawled wryly.

Josh laughed, it was a carefree sound that made Rowan uncomfortable with its openness, not that he seemed to notice. Rowan waited for him to drop her hand and turn to walk back to his bus but he instead kept his hold on her as he began to walk. He seemed to know, whether consciously or unconsciously, that Rowan wasn’t safe alone at the moment. She resented that instinct, dreading the effort it would take to escape him later, but tried to remain calm and seem unaffected.

“What’s that?” Josh asked, pointing.

Rowan glanced down, seeing the torn waistline of her dress and shivered in disgust. The hole exposed the bottom of her ribs, just where her stomach caved in like a chasm, and displayed and array of scars. “Nothing,” she rushed, using the hand that held the fabric to pinch together the gap.

“I meant that,” he said again, pointing at the cloth in her grip.

Blushing, Rowan held it tightly to her chest, not caring anymore if the skirt sagged. In her hand was the only item that could offer her a shred of security amidst the chaos around her. She started to tell him that, to tell him that though it was tattered, stained, and smelled of the Quinn’s home, it just was an old tee-shirt, but one that Rowan hoped to hold to herself in her final moments of life… It said ANTHEM.

“Something important to me,” was all she said, and she used it again to wipe mascara-blackened tears form her cheeks, her hopeless heart contracting at the thought of what the shirt truly meant to her.

Notes

* - Kellin's Inebriated Slurs:
buh = but
an = and
certainie = certainly
getet = get it

Roll-Call for Rowan's Rad Readers:
tiff
noveh
sadieluna

*Hides behind Vic.* Please don't kill me! It had to happen!

Weird as it sounds, I truly hurt every time they hurt. Again, I know it sounds odd, but it was honestly so hard for me to write this chapter. I hate making things harder than they already are for both Rowan and Kellin. But this is a reality, a realistic look at how people react to pain and fear. I hope you forgive me for it. And forgive Ro and Kell too, they're only human. I'm also sorry about the way Tanner acted, but for me this was who he was all along. I hope I haven't put you guys off by his actions but it was something I wanted to have happen to forge a few things between Ro and Kell and other characters as the story progresses. Don't you worry a bit, though—Rowan's got love in her future.

I love hearing from you all! So, here's a chapter question for this round! But further than the questions I ask here, I love to talk to you all, to have a dialogue. But it there's anything you don't want to comment publicly you can always message me—if you ever want to talk, I'm always here.

Chapter question: What's your favorite song and least favorite song from Madness!?

WHO LOVES MADNESS?! I KNOW I DO! It's something different, obviously, but you can feel so much heart both in the music and the lyrics. Every single song hit me hard and made me feel something.

To be honest with you all, I haven't been doing too well lately. I've had more panic attacks in the last month than in the last six months combined. But I'm trying. And it's not as bad as it has been in the past, I'm still clean of self harm and everything, but it's getting harder every day. I'm staying strong, for myself, for my family, for my future. Music helps, and writing, and knowing that I'm not alone in the world. It helps when I see comments and watch the read count on this story go up because it makes me feel so good to know that people are enjoying this. I've worked really hard on it so to know that it's being read and maybe liked is amazing. Thank you all for that.

Until next time, loves.

From myself, Rowan, and Kellin: much love,
MM xx