The alcohol burned my throat in a pleasant way. The bus shook with the blasting music and the mass of people hanging around. I think I was dancing; I wasn’t really sure what was going on. All I knew was that I loved the taste of alcohol, and I haven’t had this much fun in so long. I felt like a normal person; I felt like a regular dude, playing in a band with his regular friends, partying like a regular animal. This was exactly how tour life was supposed to be, and I felt like I was on top of the world.

“You’re my best friend,” Tony slurred, patting both of my cheeks.

I grinned stupidly at him.

“Aw, you sappy fuck!” I giggled.

Tony smiled, showing all of his teeth. I smiled and blinked, but I guess my blink lasted a little longer than it was supposed to, because when my eyes opened again Tony had already disappeared.

“Vic Fuentes,” I heard someone sing.

“That’s me,” I slurred.

“Welcome back,” the voice whispered, and I shivered, feeling hot breath on the back of my neck.

“Do I know you?” I turned around at the girl. I didn’t look at her. Well, maybe I was looking at her, but I wasn’t seeing her.

“No, but I’m good friends with the bands,” she winked, I think.

“Hm,” I said. “Sorry, babe, I’m taken,” I said. I think she frowned, but I shrugged my shoulders when she disappeared.

“Nice,” Mike commented.

“Where did you come from?” I laughed.

“I’m everywhere,” he wiggled his eyebrows. “I saw that,” he said. “That hot piece of ass had her hands all over you,” he said.

“Did she?” I asked, not even aware of this fact. I was so far gone that I didn’t feel much, except maybe a little nauseous. I also couldn’t think—everything was simple and blurry, but I didn’t mind. I liked it this way. Everything was so choppy: one second I was flirting jokingly with Tony, the next I was pushing groupies out of the way.

“Yeah, but you turned her away. Good job,” he patted my head.

“Well I wouldn’t do that to Charlie I love her,” I said in a single breath. Maybe my eyes would have widened at the sudden confession, but I was so hammered that I didn’t care. I was honestly surprised that I was physically able to get the girl off of me.

The night was a blur. I laughed more than I have laughed in such a long time, acting stupid with my band mates and the guys of other bands. Nobody said anything about my confession to the fans, luckily—everyone simply accepted it, to my happiness. They only smiled at me sympathetically once, but, now everyone interacted like normal, wasted guys, celebrating the first night of a tour.

I laughed out loud.

“What’s so funny?” Mike asked.

“I don’t even remember getting back from the bar, to be honest,” I laughed, finding this extremely hilarious.

Mike laughed, too. “I don’t know man. Maybe a few hours ago,” he shook his head. “The party never ends,” he smiled in satisfaction.

“Hell yeah!” I cheered. The entire bus cheered, as well, and the night (or day, whatever it was) continued in fast forward.

“Oh, Vic,” I heard someone sigh. I turned, raising my eyebrows.

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Mike shrugged his shoulders, turning away again.

“Come on, man, I can’t wait forever,” he sighed. I recognized it as Mike’s voice again.

“What?” I tapped him on the shoulder.

“I said I didn’t say anything!” he said a little louder over the music.

“Oh,” I frowned, pretty sure that he had spoken to me. Maybe I was just really drunk.

“I need you back. Please come back to us. We all miss you too much; it’s unbearable,” he said again, but, this time his voice wasn’t coming from where he was staring. Confused, I narrowed my eyes at the back of the bus where the bunks were—that seemed to be where the voice was coming from. Feeling drawn to the area, I decided to check it out.

“I’ll be right back,” I slurred to nobody in particular.

The walls of the bus swayed around me, or maybe that was just me doing the swaying. Everything blurred together, and my stomach churned. I was no longer having fun. I felt… sick. But not sick in the stomach.

Sick in the mind.

I couldn’t remember why I was here. I couldn’t remember why I was having fun. All I saw was myself, sitting up in my bunk, holding a gun to my head with a shaky hand.

I stumbled over to myself, but it was too late.

Bang!

The gunshot went off, and I watched as my own body slumped to the side. I saw it all in slow motion. The second my finger flicked back the trigger, blood was everywhere. My face cringed and twisted milliseconds before the impact, but now it was calm. My own blood and chunks of my own skull were blasted on the walls of the bus, my bunk painted with an image of death, but my face was content, happy looking.

Confused, I traveled over to a mirror. My face didn’t look content or happy. It looked sad, pained, tortured, angry.

It looked like it wanted to die.

Curiously, I wobbled over to my dead body.

“Vic? Vic? Where are you?” I heard someone giggle from the main longue of the bus. My eyes widened: I only had a few precious seconds to do it.

But I knew that it had to be done. I didn’t know why, but I knew I had to do it. It was like the gun was calling out to me, telling me that it would finally take me home.

I picked up the gun; it felt heavy in my hands.

Suddenly, my body was gone. The beautiful image painted in my own blood was gone, too.

“What a shame…” I whispered, sinking down into my bunk.

I pressed the barrel of the gun into my temple, just like I had moments before. This felt so right…

I pulled the trigger, and, this time, I didn’t think I flinched.

Well, I thought that I didn’t flinch. But when nearly a split second later I opened my eyes, to find myself surrounded by white walls and terrified brown eyes, I knew that I had failed. How was that even possible?

“Vic!” a voice screeched. “Oh my God, thank you God! You’re awake!” the voice cried, and this time I recognized the voice of my brother.

“Mike?” I croaked.

“I’m here, Vic,” he sighed, looking at me with a trembling lip.

“I can’t believe I almost killed myself again,” I said as my eyes widened in shock, realization slamming into my chest, knocking the breath right out of me. I thought that I was past that point in my life—how does one escape the fate of a bullet piercing his head twice?

“Again?” Mike narrowed his eyes at me. I dismissed the comment.

“I can’t believe I got so wasted that I wanted death,” I whispered.

“Vic…” Mike furrowed his eyebrows.

“I can’t believe I almost left Charlie. I can’t believe I almost forgot about her,” I cried, guilt threatening to overwhelm me.

“Vic,” Mike said clearly. “Who the hell is Charlie?”

Notes

raise your hand if you're confused and angry at its shortness and confusingness lols