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Navy Blue Eyes

Her Little White Lies.

There is something to be said for the imperious air that hangs like a heady perfume around those who command a royal presence. There is something enrapturing in the way the room seems to stiffen and brighten all at once. There is something entrancing in the way that which is regal seems to capture your attention as well as your senses, drawing you in but keeping you at bay.

The unique thing about Rowan Quinn was that she had all of these austere qualities mixed with an intense softness that forces those in her presence to want to come closer, speak more gently, and reach out to hold her. She, of course, had no idea whatsoever that this phenomenon existed within her and around her. She felt stares as judgmental daggers, hushed voices as insults swapped about her, and the desire to grasp her hand or wrap arms around her as a threat.

Therefore upon being guided into the bus that belonged to Motionless in White, she shrank into herself self-consciously. She felt the weight of five curious pairs of eyes settle upon her fragile shoulders like bricks and heard Josh’s introduction like a bad radio station she could hardly listen to through the static.

“Guys, Rowan’s staying here for the night,” he announced, leaving no room for dispute. No one seemed inclined to challenge him anyway, they only began to clear a space for her to sit between them on the couch.

“Good thing it’s movie night,” Chris said simply, offering the seat between himself and Ryan Sitkowski.

Rowan jumped back from the offering like she’d been slapped, unconsciously jerking closer to Josh as she now half-hid behind his arm and quivered behind him. The guys tried not to react to her reaction, attempting to remain calm and act as though they hadn’t noticed, but there was still a palpable change in the air around them like a bolt of lightning had struck the ground mere inches from their feet.

“Or you could use this blanket a fan gave me,” Ricky said without inflection, pulling the blanket and pillow from beside him on the couch and placing them on the ground in front of the armrest, meaning she’d be almost leaning against his right leg and the front of the couch.

Her cheeks flushed, still sticky with dried tears, as Rowan looked up at Josh as if asking for permission, but there was something more urgent to the way she gazed at him. It was something dark and worrisome, despite the fact that her eyes seemed like hard, deep sapphires, captivating and beautiful and so much older than the face in which they were set. Josh wasn’t sure how to respond, what she wanted to see or hear, but he nodded in hopes that would answer her. Rowan sucked a steadying breath through her teeth and stepped out from behind him, trying (and failing) to seem casual as she crossed the space and sat at Ricky’s feet, the pillow between her back and the bottom of the couch’s front, the blanket loosely draped over her her lap.

It was uncomfortably quiet, a myriad of unanswered questions bubbling beneath the surface like boiling water trapped in a pot on the stove, but Rowan was clearly in no place to answer them. Her eyes stayed on the television as one of the guys, she refused to turn and see exactly who, used the Xbox controller to open Netflix.

“What kind of movies do you like, Rowan?” Ryan—the male Ryan, as apparently the girls were elsewhere for the evening—asked her kindly.

“Uh,” she hesitated, her heart still beating too fast as it pummeled her ribs from the inside, “I don’t really know. Whatever you guys want.”

The toggle switch clicked rapidly as whoever had the controller flipped through letters and typed in the title ‘The Lost Boys’. “This is one of our favorites,” said a voice, and Rowan forced herself to look up and see who’d spoken. It was Chris, the control in his expansive, pale, and printed hands.

Rowan nearly had to use her hands to push the corners of her lips up, but stopped short of doing so, hoping whatever sort of grimace she’d managed was convincing enough. “Great,” she mumbled lowly, still running through scenarios in her mind of how to run out of there without being chased. Unable to think of anything in her muddled mind, she simply tucked the blanket around her tightly and begged for some excuse to be alone.


It was nearing two in the morning when Rowan felt a particularly rough stop by the driver jolt her into consciousness. She blinked in surprise, unable to figure out where she was. Had Kellin left her on the couch? Usually when she fell asleep in the living area he would carry her to bed, usually without even a stir on her part. So why was she still laying on the floor by the couch? Wait, this wasn't their couch. In fact, this wasn't their floor either. Where was she?!

“Rowan?” asked some groggy, gravely, distantly familiar voice. Just as her eyes adjusted to the dark, a light flicked on and she was rendered blind once again. “Alright?”

She didn't respond at first, listening intently to the shuffling sound coming closer. She blinked until her eyes no longer stung and found Ricky to be sitting down on the couch less than a yard from her position on the carpet. Upon seeing him, she froze but still forced herself to reply, “Yeah.”

“You, uh, fell asleep during the movie. We tried to make it comfy but we didn't wanna disturb you.” Ricky’s voice told Rowan that there was more to that conversation than he was willing to let on. She didn't have the energy to push it, so she nodded distractedly.

“I’m fine here,” she wasn’t sure how to politely ask him to leave but she knew without a doubt that he needed to go, she could feel her anxiety levels rising past boiling point, climbing higher every second. She was once again alone in a world surrounded by people. These strangers were merely new incarnations of the nurses that once bustled around her worriedly as she curled up listlessly by her mother’s bedside. Alone, but surrounded. The thought made her feel claustrophobic and yet abandoned all at once. She felt exposed, still wearing the shredded dress that hung low to expose her impressively present ribcage and hipbone, even more so with the weight of Ricky’s tired eyes falling on the makeup that she felt running down her arms, exposing her mutilated skin. It was too bright, too hot. And the bus’s once comforting movements were beginning to make her sick.

Lost in her own world, Rowan glanced up to find Ricky placing a pillow at one end of the couch and patting the spot, gesturing for her to move.

“No, really, I take up enough space here,” she tried to chuckle dryly but it came out as more of a strangled cough.

“You’re really short,” he mused in a near-monotoned voice, “you could sleep at the end of our bunks and not be in the way. Sleep here.”

Again, not in the mood to fight him, Rowan heaved herself to her feet and shuffled the two steps toward the pillow. She sat beside it but didn't lay down. Now that she was awake she couldn't imagine how she could ever have fallen asleep. Yes, she was tired, but she'd experienced worse. Truly she could only focus on the cavity in her chest that she could remember once being warm and filled. Empty, devoid of life, and cold. It made her feel uncomfortably numb and detached. She tried to process the sense of loss, stemming obviously from the night before… It was odd but Rowan had to admit that she felt more mournful having lost Kellin than she ever had for the loss of her mother. Surely that wasn’t normal. He was a stranger she’d only known just over a month, her mother was her flesh and blood. But then how was she to explain this all-encompassing sense of abandonment.

“Also,” Ricky began, only to stand up and leave the room without continuing. Rowan blinked blandly, her curiosity frozen as depression paralyzed her body and mind. But Ricky returned, now with a black ball of fabric in his hands. He offered it to her, the hint of a smile just barely tugging at his pierced lips, as if he was afraid to smile too large and seem insensitive but also not wanting to seem aloof altogether. Rowan wished to reciprocate but had no energy to do so, simply taking the fabric and shaking it out to reveal a giant version of children’s footie pajamas, printed to look like Jack Skellington. “I’m sure you’re uncomfortable in that,” he said, gesturing toward her tattered dress and torn tights, “you can use the bathroom to change.”

Rowan took a moment to respond, still disconcertingly immobilized. Finally she nodded, making her way to the small bathroom. She went to open the door but found it locked, momentarily striking her with panic. The thought of needing to communicate with whoever would be leaving scared her inexplicably. However, before she could bolt the door opened, revealing Ryan to be making his way sleepily back to his bunk. He seemed just as surprised to see her as she’d been to see him.

“Hey,” he mumbled, rubbing at his bleary eyes to wake his mind, “you okay?”

They could both feel the awkwardness of the situation, neither of them big on talking, both tired, having to whisper because of their proximity to the bunks, not knowing each other well in the first place.

“Yeah,” she replied, not wanting to seem ruder than she already felt. “Ricky gave me pajamas to put on so…”

“Oh, okay,” he replied, shuffling to the side to let her into the bathroom. Just before she closed the door, Ryan nodded uncomfortably and turned toward the living area. Fuck, she cursed to herself, now she’d have both of them to contend with when she left the bathroom.

Well, there was only one option then… never leave the bathroom.

Exhausted and despondent, Rowan stripped. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, ignoring the multitude of bottles of black paint and white makeup littering the counter top, shuddering as the bus rumbled along. She caught sight also of mud caked to her cheek. She scrubbed at it furiously, rubbing it away as she became distracted and examined her scars for a moment. She always did, it was part of a ritual really, the way she reminded herself of her own imperfection, reminding herself of her past to keep herself in check—before getting distracted by something new adorning her wrist, a red ring all the way around the sharp bones. Confused, she reached to prod it and found the welt to be warm to the touch and so tender that she jumped as her own fingers brushed it. Tanner. Rowan no longer felt sadness at the thought, only anger and pain and… loneliness. Isolation. Forcing her eyes away from the blossoming bruises cuffing her wrists, matching those blooming on her hip and collarbone, she finally saw a purple spot at the base of her neck. Yet again surprised and confused, she reached to check if it was also a new bruise. It was tender and turning colors but there was no heat, no throbbing pain, and it was only the size of thumbprint. It was… a hickey?

Violated, used, and worthless. That’s how she felt. She probably looked so trashy to the guys, bright marks scattered across her already mutilated skin, crying one minute and silent the next to then falling asleep and ignoring their hospitality the next.

Knock, knock. “Ro?”

“Hold on,” she called in a quivering voice, her hands trembling as she stuffed her spindly limbs into the clothing, holding her ruined dress and tights close to her chest as she took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Ricky was standing there, leaning against the wall opposite with tired eyes and skin as pale as her own. He smiled almost sheepishly at her and nodded as if asking once again how she was. She gave a tiny bob of her head in response, hoping that was enough to assuage his curiosity on her behalf. He turned with another grin toward the front of the bus again and she followed diligently. Her brain was reeling, eyes darting as she looked for a means of escape. She needed to be free, to be as alone as she felt, and she needed to cut. Needed it. But how could she? The bus was flying down the highway at some ridiculous speed and she was surrounded by people.

As they entered the living area and Rowan finally looked up she found every member of the band to be sitting around the room. Ricky took his seat at the foot of the couch, opposite Rowan’s make-shift bed, Chris on the floor by her pillow, Josh on the ground by Ricky’s feet, Ryan on Josh’s left, and Devin between Ryan and Chris. Rowan blanched, her eyes immediately looking back toward the bathroom and reconsidering the plan to stay in there for the rest of her (hopefully short) life. Why were they all awake at– what was it? 3:31 am.

“Hey,” Chris mumbled in a scratchy-sleepy-voice, his eyes half-lidded in exhaustion. The others looked to be in much the same mental state and Rowan’s ever-present level of guilt rose considerably with the fear that she’d somehow woken them all up. “We never got to finish the movies.”

Rowan had to carefully step between Devin and Ryan to get to her borrowed pillow, stuffing her dirty clothes beneath it and nodding at Chris who’d twisted himself to look back at her. “Sounds fun,” she replied in an empty voice, “what movie?”

Sleepy Hollow,” Ryan told her, a small smile playing at his lips as well. She couldn’t discern the reason for their smiles, pity? Tiredness? All she knew was that too many thoughts were swarming her head for her to focus on a movie. But her body’s exhaustion won out over her mind’s alertness and she slumped onto the soft couch as a form of reply of affirmation.

The film started and no one spoke at first, Rowan just let her mind wander into dark corners that she’d kept hidden in shadows for weeks, rediscovering the scariest and farthest regions of her head. Ichabod was investigating the new town but Rowan was elsewhere entirely. She needed release. But she couldn’t get noticed, she had to remain subtle and calm. No weakness, no pain. She began to scratch her chewed and jagged nails against her skin, at first slowly but gradually increasing in fervor, eventually chipping off paint as she fought to draw blood. The scratches were burning, stinging, there was fire in her cells and she loved it. This was right. This was home. This was what she’d needed for so long. Trying to force herself to be ‘good’ and ‘strong’ had made her feel the weakest and most vulnerable she could ever remember feeling in her life. Why the hell had she left herself waste away like that? She’d cried in front of people! She’d hugged people! She’d told someone how she truly felt, she’d left too many emotional wounds open to the world, inviting in the infections of care and worry. Now she felt strong. Now she felt whole. She had been missing this. Why had she ever stopped?!

Her fingers flew against her arm with the speed of an addict loading up their first hit in months, the nails breaking off as they drew forth blood. She didn’t even hear herself begin gasping for air, didn’t feel her eyes drying out as she fought to keep tears back. This felt so good. This felt so right. She forgot everything. Nothing else in the world mattered. She’d never been hurt by others, she didn’t feel alone or betrayed, she was just Rowan. But she’d become so caught up that she also forgot that she wasn’t alone in the room.

“What?” she hissed, shocked and angry as a pale hand grabbed hers, hindering her ability to inflict the damage she so desperately needed. Following the hand with contentious eyes, daring whoever felt bold enough to interrupt her, she found the hand to belong to Ricky. She was torn between being fascinated by his ability to always be in the wrong place at the wrong time and disgruntled for the very same reason.

Chris and Devin turned around at her whisper, but upon catching eyes with Ricky they returned to looking at the screen. Rowan could almost feel their ears perking as Ricky responded to the hushed conversation, knowing they were only pretending to be invested in the film they had clearly watched many times. “Nothing,” he intoned perfunctorily, as if he’d been readying himself to answer that very question. Rowan refused to break eye contact, attempting to stare him down so as to throw him off and retrieve her hand from his grasp. However he remained blank-eyed instead.

Rowan attempted to pull her arm back from his grasp but he held fast, drawing forth a huff of annoyance from his captor as Rowan whispered harshly, “Then lemme go.” Ricky made no move to do any such thing, eliciting pure fury in the form of a growl from Rowan. “What the fuck? What do you want?”

“What were you doing?” he asked, patient and soft.

“Nothing,” she snapped back, quirking one brow at him in a silent challenge.

It was quiet aside from the film and Rowan’s occasional grunts as she tried to pry her hand from Ricky’s only slightly-larger palm. Finally the movie was over and Rowan felt tears of anger and frustration pooling in her eyes. As the credits rolled Rowan decided she’d had enough. This made her fell weak, childish, and she wanted to feel strong. To do that, she needed her hand.
“Let me the fuck go,” she demanded at full volume, shocking the otherwise silent room. Too full of anger and pain, she had no room to feel embarrassed as the guys snapped their heads around to look at her. She only had eyes for Ricky.

“Fine,” he replied casually, releasing her as if he hadn’t a care in the world about it. She could feel the room’s attention pique, confused and curious.

Rowan snapped her arm close to her, cradling her freshly wounded wrist close to her chest, staring fixedly down at the gashes with reverence. She felt eyes on her and hurriedly tugged her sleeve down, pinching it between tense fingers. “What are you all staring at me for?” she quipped, her heartbeat skipping as they all exchanged uneasy glances. “Put on the next movie or whatever,” she went on, blushing.

“I’m bored with that,” Chris said, switching off the TV without looking away from Rowan and Ricky. It was silent a long moment before Josh broke it.

“Do we have any board games around here?” he asked, looking around himself awkwardly. In fact, the whole room was chock-full of stiff air.

“I don’t think so, we don’t usually have people over… there’s the X-Box?” Ryan suggested with a light shrug. “Or I think we have cards?”

“Better idea,” Devin interrupted, a devilish smile on his typically serene face. “Two truths and a lie.”

Rowan was drained and confused, unsure of the supposed game and wanting nothing more than to be alone. “What?”

Ricky’s expression was still distant, his focus was parallel to Rowan’s, only pretending to be in the moment whereas they were actually focused on Rowan’s impatient pinching of her own skin. He struck out his hand and captured hers once again, stopping the action swiftly. “You tell us two things that are true and one that’s a lie, but you don’t say which is which. The game is that we guess which is the lie.”

“What’s the point?” she asked cooly, tired of the ‘get to know me’ games she’d played before, she was in no mood to speak at all much less divulge any personal information.

“There isn’t really a ‘point’,” Chris shrugged awkwardly again, “it’s just for fun.”

Right, Rowan thought privately, because normal people did things ‘just for fun’. There had been a brief lapse in sanity on Rowan’s part that had deluded her into thinking she was ‘normal’ and could ‘have fun’ but she knew now that all of it had been a lie she’d tried to tell herself. “I’ll just watch you all play.”

“That’s no fun!” Ryan complained, “We’ve all lived together for the better part of ten years, we know each other too well.”

“Well then, why play at all?” Rowan snapped, annoyed at their attempts to make her feel better. She didn’t want to ‘feel better’, she just wanted to escape this bus.

“Oh, c’mon,” Ryan prodded lightheartedly, “be a good sport.”

“Fuck it,” Rowan said with a sigh, hopping to just get them to back off. “Start it, I’ll see if I wanna join in.”

“Fine,” Josh chimed in, taking her peeved reluctance as close enough to acceptance, “I’ll go. One, I used to work at K-Mart. Two, I own my own store. Three, I’ve never had hair.”

Rowan peered at his bald and tattooed head, trying to decide if he was born that way or if he shaved it. She suspected either that or the fact that he owned his own store would be the lie. She looked also at the expressions around her, trying to see if they would give anything away. She really couldn’t care any less about this game but she was trying to get them to trust her, to hopefully leave her alone to ‘rest’ and plot her escape. So she decided to play along in the meantime. “You don’t own a store…” she said hesitantly. She couldn’t imagine him running some cupcake shop or selling handmade clothes, he just seemed a musician through-and-through. Perhaps he could sell some sort of specialty coffins, he was pretty weird, but a store? She didn’t think so.

Josh made a noise like the buzzer sounded at the end of a basketball game, accompanied by a dramatic thumbs down. “Wrong, I did work at K-Mart and I own an oddities parlor, but I shave my head.”

Rowan shrugged, seeing as she wasn’t all that interested in the game she wasn’t particularly invested in the response, but the guys chuckled at her reaction, commenting that she was being a sore loser. She tried to lightheartedly take the banter but the weight of her depression made her almost immobile with pain. “Who goes next?” she asked by way of a distraction.

“I can go,” Chris offered, smiling at Rowan kindly. “Okay…” he paused, seemingly mulling over facts and lies about himself and deciding which to use. “So, I'm a Libra, I'm straight-edge, and I'm a vegetarian.”

Rowan paused, then realized no one else planned to guess as they already knew the answers. “I’m pretty sure you're straight edge, the other two…”

Rowan gazed around the room again, this time catching eyes with Devin as he held up the number three, hidden from Chris’s view. Rowan arched a brow, deciding to trust the man but wanting to play along anyway.

“Hmm,” she hummed, laying it on thick as she pretended to mull it over, “I’m going to say… you’re not a vegetarian.”

“Good one,” he praised, grinning widely, “how’d you guess?”

“Intuition,” Rowan said wryly, her eyes sliding surreptitiously toward Devin. The object of her attention smirked wickedly in return, as though they shared some great secret.

“I used to be,” Chris commented, shrugging, “but I like chicken wings too much.”

Everyone laughed at that, albeit forced on Rowan’s part.

“Me next?” Ricky offered, his tone much cooler than the others’, he clearly hadn’t forgotten the state he’d found Rowan in. It was clear in his pale, smoky blue eyes, but he—like Rowan—was playing along for the sake of appearances. “Right, so I love conspiracy theories, I have a tattoo of Ghost on my leg, and my favorite food is pizza.”

Rowan had a difficult time maintaining eye contact with him, she found Ricky’s eyes to be piercing, like trying to stare into the sun. So again she looked to those around her, lingering on Devin. Only this time, he held up two fingers. He’d been right the first time, so she trusted him enough to try it again.

“You don’t have a tattoo of a ghost,” she replied blandly, cautiously avoiding his gaze.
“Ghost, not a ghost. It’s Devin’s stage-name,” Ricky countered shortly.

“Fine, Ghost then,” she quipped, her eyes narrowing at his nit-picking.

“Still wrong,” Ricky replied cattily. Rowan now slid her slitted eyes at Devin, feeling betrayed. “I hate pizza.”

“What?” Rowan quizzed, distracted from glaring at her new enemy, “I thought everyone liked pizza?”

“Do you?” Ricky shot back, rolling his eyes.

“No, but that’s irrelevant,” Rowan said, slumping back into the couch as she went on, “I don’t like any–”

Rowan cut herself off, stopping short of saying anything personal. But they seemed to notice her abrupt silence, exchanging puzzled looks.

“What was that?” Chris prodded, his forehead—devoid of any make up, and therefore any eyebrows, though Rowan was sure they’d be pulled together if they were drawn on—wrinkled up.

“Nothing,” she sighed, again feeling the intense desire to abandon all attempts at feigning normalcy. “Who goes now?”

“You,” Ryan supplied, “since you got Ricky’s wrong.”

“But that wasn’t my fault!” Rowan whined, not caring if she sounded childish.

“Oh yeah? How so?” Ryan replied, quirking a brow quizzically.

“Devin said– Ugh, oh forget it.” Rowan huffed in annoyance, rolling her eyes again as Devin smiled sheepishly at her. “I don’t want to play anymore. I’m tired.”

“Well, too bad,” Ryan responded with a soft chuckle, “we played, now it’s your turn.”

“I was roped into playing in the first place, I’m out,” Rowan stated, looking away from the group as her temper grew shorter. She was in no state to be teased, she just needed sleep. Or some sort of release. Or escape. But none of those options seemed feasible for the time being.

“You gonna be a pussy about it?” Ryan snapped playfully, now wiggling his eyebrows.

“A pussy?” Rowan looked at them with superiority, her expression challenging, “Are you insinuating that it’s considered an insult to be the thing that you all drool over and chase after like a starving dog after a steak?”

The room was silent a moment before they all burst into raucous guffaws. Rowan peered at them, flummoxed, but that only seemed increase their amusement.

“What?” she finally asked, but those who heard her over the chaos only laughed yet harder. Rowan sighed and threw her hands up in exasperation, flopping back into the couch as the guys wore themselves out. Once the hilarity slowed to the occasional chuckle, the men turned yet again to Rowan, trying to conceal smirks as they challenged her.

“C’mon, don’t be a baby about it then–” Josh began, before Rowan started to cut him off.

“By baby I assume you don’t mean–” she started, but was stopped by Josh.

“–Don’t avoid the point! Just go already!”

Rowan paused again, running out of ways to dodge the inevitable. Dreading the task for many reasons, Rowan puffed out a breath of irritability. “Whatever,” she said with a roll of her eyes, “can I go to sleep afterwards?”

“If you play well,” Ryan taunted.

“Fine,” Rowan replied begrudgingly. “So… I guess… Um…” she struggled to find facts that were unimportant, like giving away clothes you know you don’t wear anymore and therefore have no more emotional attachment to. “I have a degree in psychology, I don’t like the color blue, and I was born in Seattle.”

The members of Motionless in White studied her hard, examining her every breath and blink—or so it felt. Rowan felt the remoteness of her own expression, how withdrawn she must appear to them. She felt chilled all over, her mind constantly being pulled back to the image of Kellin, inebriated past the point of sanity, reeking of alcohol and cradling bottles to himself like a child with a blanket. It made her stomach flip. Her thoughts were interrupted as Chris cleared his throat.

“I think it’s the first one, you’re too young,” he reasoned.

“I agree,” Ryan tacked on, his brows knitted together tightly.

“I think it’s the third one, you don’t seem like a North-Western girl,” Devin countered calmly, his pale orbs still studying Rowan’s extrasolar gaze.

“I think you don’t mind blue,” Josh said with a shrug.

“I agree with Ghost,” Ricky added quietly, his eyes also detached as he looked down at his hands blandly.

Even Rowan’s voice was lightyears away as she spoke with the empty cadence of a robot, “Josh was right.”

Josh cheered in a cheesy manner, pumping his fists in the air as the rest groaned and griped. Rowan only glanced before returning to staring through her own knees. It looked to the others as if she was able to see through her own skin, past her bones, beyond the ground, straight through to the other side of the world.

“I think it’s time to actually get some sleep,” Ricky hinted, his voice the only one that penetrated Rowan’s absence.

There was a brief lapse of silence before Chris sighed, “Yeah, you’re right.”

There were sounds of shuffling and various ‘good nights’ before the room seemed empty to Rowan. She gazed around her, everyone was gone except for Ricky. He was now on the couch opposite hers, laying on his back with a blanket over his legs and a pillow below his head, the glow of his cell phone the only light in the room as it illuminated his face. Rowan looked at him curiously, her gaze lingering until he felt it and turned to look at her.

“What?”

“Why are you in here? Don’t you have a bunk?”

“Maybe I prefer the couch,” he replied smoothly, returning to his cell.

“I think I’ll go back to my bus now,” Rowan said, standing and making her way blindly toward the door, stumbling from fatigue.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” she asked, reaching for the door knob, only to find it locked.

“Because we’re going sixty miles per hour on a major highway in the middle of the night.”

Rowan paused, blinking rapidly as she attempted to process that information. “Oh,” was all she said as she turned and made her way slowly back to the couch. She laid down, pulling the blanket over herself and twisting to face away from Ricky.

“Night,” he said quietly, and the dim light from his phone was doused.


“I’m gonna get you!” he called in a sing-song tone. But she kept running. Rich, chocolate tresses whipped around another corner as she evaded him easily. “Here I come!” he teased, followed by her breathless giggles.

Kellin’s feet moved as fast as they could but Rowan was always a few feet ahead. She was precious, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds as if to keep track of whether or not he was still there. She grinned conspiratorially every time, her pink lips spreading to show off the fact that she’d lost her two front teeth. Only five years old, already breathtakingly gorgeous and indisputably captivating.

“Can’t cath* me!” she taunted back, her lack of front teeth evident if not in her smile, at least in her lisp. Kellin saw an image flash before his eyes of Rowan, framed by a halo of sunlight, waking him up at the crack of dawn on her fifth birthday, astounded that she’d lost both teeth in one morning. Blinking to clear the sight, Kellin followed Rowan through another hallway, chuckling breathlessly as well. She was so small, hardly over three-foot-tall, and she knew how to use her size to her advantage in games such as these.

“I might not, but the tickle monster will!” Kellin cheered in response, wiggling his fingers menacingly to add to the fright. Little Rowan gasped, pushing herself to run even harder. She made it to a door at the end of the hall, turning the knob and disappearing inside, a stream of giggles like those of fairies erupting in her wake. Kellin reached the door a second later, throwing it open to find a dark room, empty of anything at all upon first sight. “Rooowan?” he sing-songed again, trying to suppress a grin as he feigned cluelessness. “Where ever could my baby girl be?”

He heard shuffling in the corner behind him, blocked by the door that remained ajar. “Could she be… outside?” he asked the room at large, but obviously received no response. “Hm… no, I’m sure I saw her come in here. Could she be… behind this door?!”

Kellin shoved the door out of his way, slamming it closed, discovering Rowan to be standing there with a beatific smile on her face. But that wasn’t what halted him. Kellin gazed down in mingled awe and terror as Rowan’s infinitesimal hand clutched a black hunk of metal. It seemed fake, it must be.

“Rowan, where did you get that?” But she didn’t respond, only raised her heavy hand, pointing the barrel right up at his chest. “Rowan, that’s not funny.” His voice was now panic-stricken, his own hands trembling and his pulse thrumming in his ears. “Baby, give that to me. Right now.” She refused, only a small click in response. “Rowan,” Kellin said, his voice pleading, as he stared past the gun aimed for his heart to the tiny girl holding it up, her smile fixed and her gaze hard, “why, baby?”

“You know why,” was all she said, and then she used three minuscule fingers to pull the trigger.


Kellin sprang up, slamming his head hard against solid wood. The resounding slam echoed through the bus intimidatingly. He panted, trying desperately to catch his breath as his hands frantically ran over his chest. Finding no wound or blood, he began to settle. Wait, that couldn’t have been real… he’d never known a little Rowan. That was a gift he’d never received. It was a nightmare. Nothing more.

Kellin’s movements and thoughts were still slow and muddled from the activities of the night before. “Rowan,” he whispered in the general direction of her bunk. She must’ve come in once he was already asleep. He thanked his lucky stars. As angry as he’d been, even in his drunken state he knew that she mattered more than any argument to him. She didn’t respond.

With much struggle and unbalance, he stood and tried to discretely pull back the curtain of her bunk. What?! It was empty! With renewed fervor, he yanked back one curtain after another, none of them holding Rowan, though he got more than an eyeful of his bandmates and friends snoring alongside their various hookups.

“Rowan?” he hissed anxiously, searching the front and back of his bus. He almost opened the door before looking out the window to see freeway mile-markers speeding past. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck–” his string of expletives only grew as he tripped back to his bunk and pulled out his phone. He glared at the screen through slitted eyes, trying to make the images stop swirling, and attempted to find her contact. He found it, calling her as quickly as he could. Ring, ring, ring.

If I were you, I’d put that away. See you’re just wasted and thinkin’ ‘bout the past again. Darling you’ll be okay.” The ringtone was nearby, and Kellin sighed in relief. She was here after all. He followed the sound back to her bunk. Huh. He pulled back the curtain, half expecting to see Rowan there, somehow magically appearing. But he found the bunk empty once again. Growling in frustration he threw his own phone against the wall, grabbing Rowan’s in annoyance. Where would she go without her phone?!

Kellin tried to think of anyone to call. Who would know where she was? Andy? Vic? She’d gone with someone. She had to have. If not… He couldn’t let himself dwell on that thought. ‘Call someone. Call Vic. Yes, call Vic.

He chanted this to himself as he selected the number and waited, hearing the ringing go on forever. No answer. He called again. ‘Call Vic, call Vic.

On the last ring, a drowsy voice cracked through the line, “Rowan? What’s wrong, sweetheart? Are you okay?”

“Vic,” Kellin slurred, using all of his energy to turn his tangled thoughts into words that his friend could distinguish. “Where’s Ro? She didn’t get her meds! Where the fuck is she?!”


Rowan felt frozen, she tried to move but found her limbs to be heavy and still, she even tried to scream but nothing came out. She could see him, she saw Kellin at the end of the street, but he was looking the other way. It was pitch black all round her, aside from the street lamps. One hovered over her, another over Kellin, and half a dozen in between them. The light over Kellin flickered, just as he looked her way. His face lit up at seeing her, but it was shrouded again in blackness as the light was diminished to nothingness.

Rowan struggled to call to him but still couldn’t manage. Luckily, Kellin appeared beneath the next pool of lamp light nearest him, a few feet closer to her now. Rowan sighed in relief, but now that lamp began to waver. Panicked, Rowan tried to tell Kellin with her eyes to come closer, as nothing else on her was able to so much as flinch. He looked at her in confusion, clearly not understanding her signals. The light that illuminated him went out, this time he didn’t seem to know where to go. “Rowan?” he called out, but she couldn’t answer. Coughing and spluttering, all without making even a peep, she was unable to produce even the slightest word. “Ro?!” he called again, his voice growing more worried by the second.

Finally he began to run into the light of the next nearest lamp. Now the lamps were flickering almost instantly and Kellin was running from one to the next, closer to her, but not fast enough. All but Rowan’s light were out and Kellin’s breaths were the only sound in the supposedly cavernous room of darkness. “Rowan, where are you?! I can’t see you!”

Rowan pulled every muscle in her body with her mind, willing herself to respond, but nothing came to fruition. Kellin remained yelling, running around in the darkness, and unable to reach her.

Rowan looked up in absolute horror to find her lamp was flickering, her heart pounded in her chest and she hoped Kellin could at least hear that. Her eyes strained to search the void around her for even a silhouette of the man she needed most, but she couldn’t find him. She felt something building in her chest, mounting in pressure as her lamp bordered on switching off. Whatever it was was awful, and powerful, and aggressive. She began to open and close her lips in silent pleas.

In her final moment of panic and desperation, Rowan opened her mouth again and let loose an animalistic howl of agony and dismay. It tore at her throat and all of a sudden she was free of her invisible body-bind, running to where she last saw Kellin before the ground fell out from beneath her and she was falling, her stomach left somewhere in the sky above her as she plummeted with another guttural screech.


“Rowan!”

Rowan slammed up, her forehead knocking hard against something solid.

“Fuck!” said the object in protest, causing Rowan to whip around and discover Ricky on the floor beside the couch, flat on his back from the strength of impact. “You’ve got a really fucking hard head,” he muttered grumpily, rubbing his own forehead as he sat up again, his pinched eyes zeroing in on Rowan once more.

Rowan couldn’t respond at first, desperately attempting to gain control of her erratic breaths, one hand supporting her weight as she propped herself up from the bed and the other over her chest as she felt for her pulse as it thundered against her fingertips.

“Holy shit,” she finally breathed out, her body feeling completely detached from her head. “What happened?”

“You were screaming,” Ricky explained, somewhat sourly and somewhat pitying. “I woke you up and then you assaulted my face and my ears.”

“Holy fuck,” she murmured exhaustedly, catching her breath as if from running an impromptu marathon. “Sorry.”

Ricky shrugged. “S’fine,” he assured her, his tone unconvincing though he was obviously trying to seem as if nothing bothered him. “So long as you tell me what you were dreaming.”

“I don’t remember,” Rowan said, her voice bitter. He woke her up in the middle of the night to quiz her on something that obviously distressed her? Fuck that. “Anyway, sorry again. Night.”

Ricky didn’t relent, he pushed her legs and made room for himself at her feet. Rowan rolled her tired eyes, not able to muster up the energy to fight him on it. “Okay, fine, then tell me what happened earlier.”

“We played a game?” Rowan intoned, deflecting easily despite the ten-ton weight that seemed to be slowly pulverizing her chest. Breathing was becoming more difficult by the second and Rowan looked for any means of escape from Ricky’s notice.

“I mean what the fuck were you doing bloody and clinging to the grill of our bus wearing shredded clothes?” he prodded, either not able to see the naked panic in her large, blue orbs or choosing to ignore it.

“I– I don’t know! Wait, bloody?” Rowan was almost positive, even without the spinning in her head at the moment, that she’d never been given enough space or time or independence to do any of the things she’d thought of doing. So why would she have been bloody? Did Tanner do something to her that she couldn’t remember?

“Yeah,” Ricky replied hesitantly, perhaps just noticing her hands as they clenched vehemently to her chest, as if Rowan was ensuring she was in fact breathing. “On your legs, shoulders, hands, knees… even your cheek.”

Had she been so out of it that she hadn’t seen that in her own reflection? She’d thought it was mud. How the hell had she gotten in that state? Rowan’s skin was alight with flames, feeling them lick up her limbs and encompass her being. Terrified, she swallowed gulps of air as she tried to steady herself. ‘How? How had this happened? Where was the blood from?

“I don’t… I didn’t even–” Rowan stuttered before finally leaving her mouth hanging open, taking deep drags of air.

“Hey, whoa…” Ricky paused, gently edging his hand near her shoulder, but she flinched. “Are you alright?”

“Ye– no,” she gasped, not able to look at him through her spinning vision. “I can’t breathe!”

“What? Okay, okay… Just take a deep breath,” he panicked, trying to remain calm despite the storm he felt brewing beneath Rowan’s skin. He was nervous to touch her, thinking it might help to soothe her or it might send her over the edge. “With me, c’mon.” Ricky gently reached over, pulling her hand away from her borrowed pajamas, placing her small palm flat against his own chest. His beryl blue irises bore into her indigo ones, his pierced lips forming words that she strove to process. “Right here, this is all there is. Nothing else exists. Nothing matters. Just breathe. All silence, just my voice. Just listen to me. That’s good, just breathe. In and out. In and out. Good. Now tell me your name. What’s your name?”

“R– Rowan,” she forced between chattering teeth, shivers rocking her body. Ricky nodded to her encouragingly.

“Okay, great. Tell me how old you are,” he pressed, nodding relaxedly at her to continue.

“I’m, I’m, I’m– Fuck,” she snapped, the words unable to surface through her violent tremors. “Thirteen! I’m thirteen!”

“Okay, you’re okay. You’re safe. You’re fine. You’re gonna be okay, just tell me what you’re thinking. Talk to me.”

Rowan bobbed her head, “Yeah. O– okay. I’m cold, really cold. And I, I, I want–”

“Want what?” he urged patiently.

“I want Kellin,” she admitted, feeling her shame and weakness pushing her to stand and run, still her legs were too shaky. “I want Kellin.”

Ricky was at a loss for words, desperate to help but unable to conjure up her father as it was the middle of the night and they were in a moving vehicle. “We can call him, where’s your phone?”

Rowan shook her head, “I d– don’t have it. It’s in my bunk. I– I don’t have it.”

“That’s okay, do you want to use mine? I can find his number?” Ricky dove into his pocket with the hand that wasn’t holding hers to his chest, fishing out his cell and offering it to her.

“No. No. No. I don’t want to. I can’t. I can’t. The alcohol. I can’t. The smell, the alcohol, I just can’t.” Rowan rambled on, her words flowing from fumbling lips with a hitched stride, unable to calm herself as her pulse jumped again at the memories.

“That’s fine, that’s okay,” he assured her, trying to regain eye-contact. “Just tell me what happened, what’s wrong?”

“Tanner, he tried to– he tried– and then, then I ran back. I fell out of the tree– I jumped, and then I ran all the way to the venue. I hurt all over,” she was speaking so quickly that Ricky doubted she noticed she’d begun speaking aloud at all. He didn’t speak, afraid she’d shut down again. “I did it anyway. I came back. I wanted him, I needed him, and then I saw. The alcohol, so much of it. And I couldn’t stay. I wanted to get away. So I ran, and then… then I stopped.”

She seemed to be done, her voice trailed off and Ricky felt the distinct urge to take more than her hand, to wrap his arms around her and offer to keep her safe. But based on her current state, he knew better. “You’re not there, you’re here. You’re safe here,” he chanted, hoping to gain some semblance of trust from her.

There was a long, silent pause. Rowan caught her breath, matching hers to Ricky’s paced lung movements. Ricky pondered her speech, wanting desperately to make this better for the poor kid. She was clearly fucked up right now. And the fact that alcohol apparently played a key part reminded him of his younger years, sending a shiver down his spine. His palms were sweaty with the memories but he refused to drop her hand, knowing that even if the contact was minimal she needed something to anchor her to the present.

After stretch of quiet, he felt her take a deep breath, one that reached the bottom of her lungs.
“Rowan?” he asked hesitantly, not wanting to provoke another attack.

She gazed at him with gratitude, hooded with uncertainty. “Yeah?” she replied calmly.

“What did you mean about the alcohol?” Ricky was still cautious of setting her off, but he wanted to know how damaged the girl was.

“Nothing,” she began, but the caught sight of his disapproving look. “It was just… Kellin broke a promise to me. That’s all.”

“I’m sorry,” he said pointlessly, knowing it wouldn’t fix the issue. “You know, I hated alcohol a lot too, for a while.”

“It’s not really that I hate it, I just hate what it makes people turn into,” she mumbled, accepting her hand as he slowly released it. She began twisting her fingers as she avoided looking into his honest eyes as she asked something that hadn’t left her head since she’d heard it. “What was that you guys said? About being straight or whatever?”

“Straight-edge,” he answered, a small smile on his face as he realized she remembered that. “It means no drugs, drinking, or smoking. Technically, I only don’t do drugs. I smoke. And I drink rarely. But for the most part we all are. Ryan drinks a little too, but none of the rest do. It’s a lifestyle choice. In fact, I think I have something for you… if you’re interested?”

Rowan took a moment before nodding, curiosity and an odd feeling of strength surging up inside her. Ricky stood and moved toward the bunks, returning with something black in his hands. “We were given a bunch of these by a clothing company that supports Edge.”

Ricky handed her a black tee, printed on the front with ‘The Only Coke I Do is Diet’ and on the back with ‘XXX’. “What’s this?” she asked, chuckling at the phrase on the front but pointing to the back.

“It symbolizes straight-edge. The triple X. Chris has it tattooed on his hand,” he explained, sitting down beside her again. “Want it?”

“Yeah,” she mused, “thanks. So, what do you have to do to, like, join or whatever?”

“It’s not a club or anything, you just have to commit to yourself. Once you claim edge, you have to respect that decision. It’s not something to do lightly, but if you’re interested in claiming you just have to do it and follow through with the lifestyle.” Ricky felt an odd sense of pride in his chest as he watched her examine the shirt as if it was a golden ticket.

“Cool,” she said, mostly to herself. Twisting and turning the shirt in her grip, Rowan looked up at Ricky, eyes full of remorse and sorrow. “Sorry. For before.”

“Seriously, there’s nothing to be sorry about.” Ricky presented a small grin, an attempt to assure her that it was true.

“I’m, uh, still pretty tired,” she told him, only half-lying. She was tired, she knew it was the kind of exhaustion that wouldn’t go away any time soon. But she knew she wouldn’t sleep tonight. Not after her nightmare.

“Sure,” Ricky said, smiling wider before crossing to his own makeshift bed. “G’night,” he repeated once more, unsure how long this respite would last.

Rowan laid down with her back to Ricky again, adding the new shirt to the other one. She pulled the Anthem tee to her chest, inhaling Kellin’s scent and allowing it to wash out any traces of pain left within her. She needed him, no matter how fucked up he was or how much he’d betrayed her. She het loose one tear, feeling the warmth run down to her ear. “Night,” she echoed, her voice hollow again.

Notes

Roll-Call for Rowan's Rad Readers:
firecod
noveh

[This image is a new cover I have, it's a different take and I wanted you guys to vote and decide whether to keep the old one or for me to switch to the new one! Comment below to let me know!]

Hello, guys! Thank you again for anyone who actually still takes the time to read this story. I still pour all of myself into ever chapter. I have some exciting news coming for you soon, but for now, relax and enjoy the product of my being sick and bed-ridden for a whole week.

I've put Navy Blue Eyes up for any of you to vote for if any of you have a Wattpad account, if you so choose. I know it's imperfect, I know updates can be slow, and I'm sure you all read better stories out there but I thought that I would give you lovely people the option. Seeing as you've all been so supportive and so helpful in not only my writing but my life outside of it as well. It means so so so much to me to see comments and votes and reads go up every day as you all choose to read this thing I've created. It gets me through some of my darkest moments.

That all being said, if you're interested in voting, I've put the rules here for your knowledge:
Join us on Twitter and vote for your favorite story between August 24th and 31st, 2015. Just share a link to your favorite story on Wattpad with the #MyWattysChoice tag. The top ten most shared stories from Twitter will claim the People's Choice Award for Wattys 2015

In addition, what the hell happened to the Sleeping With Sirens Fanfiction site?? I hope most of you found the story here, if you were interested in continuing to read. Or if not, on Wattpad! I'll always keep this story going, if for any reason you can't find me here, search other sites! It's out there somewhere!!

Also, please feel free to comment or message me or vote, I know I've met some really amazing people on here and since I can't dedicate one chapter to two people, I've used the last part to thank one and this part to thank another. These people have gone so far as to message me and connect which means the world! I love hearing from you all, I love knowing that someone is enjoying this rollercoaster with me. I love every single one of you, and I wish you all the best.

My answers
from last Chapter's Question: Fave (SO HARD BC IM OBSESSED WITH ALL OF THEM) is probably Heroine or Better Off Dead. Least favorite is either Madness (is that weird?) or 2 Chord.

Chapter Question: What's been your favorite chapter so far of this story?


Thank you all again, so much. I love you. So do Rowan and Kell.

Much love until next time,
MM xx

Comments

Where in the world is Mati Marie!? :(

Hey !
please continue this story... i need to know what happens to Rowan.

Xxbsx Xxbsx
5/10/16

Are you still writing this story?

Are you still going to finish this story. I'm still in love with Rowan and I really need closure. I know it's been like 8 months but please finish it. I'd still love to read it