Hell Flower

||6||

***Trigger Warning in this chapter for panic attacks***

"Hey, Alex," Jake's voice called, and I nearly jumped.

Jake made his way around the front of the bus. He wore a heavy black sweatshirt with the hood down and his beanie pulled over his head.

"Talk to you a minute?" He glanced at me for a second before turning his focus to Alex.

Alex crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. "Right now?"

"It's fine," I said, picking at my neon pink nail polish and trying to stop my hands from shaking. "I think I'm going to go in and get some snacks anyway." I pointed my thumb back over my shoulder before turning on my heel and jogging off towards the convenience store.

"Allison, wait," Alex called, but I rushed off before he could stop me.

I needed to be alone. I needed to think. It felt like the ground was falling out from under me. My head was spinning. This was all too much.

Finally, I reached the smudged glass door to the gas station convenience store. The bell gave a pained ding as I shoved it open. A blast of hot, dry air plumed over me. It smelled like burning dust. It was only the end of October, but they already had the heat cranking in here like it was winter.

A U2 song played quietly in the background through a crackling radio. I walked down the first aisle to the beat of the music, running my hand along a dusty shelf. A thin layer of grime stuck to my fingertips. I pulled my hand back, rubbing my fingers together until the dust disintegrated in the moisture of my palms.

I hadn't eaten anything since before the show last night, but just looking at the arrays of faded candy wrappers and crushed bags of chips made me nauseous. It looked like they hadn't changed out the stock in here since the nineties.

The words Alex had said to me played on repeat in my head. He never changed back.

Was that going to happen to me, too? Alex said that the shifts had become more frequent for my . . . brother . . . right before he finally lost complete control. The same thing was happening to me now. Was I going to shift one night and never come back?

My legs shook as I continued to walk through the shop, my vision darkening around me like I was going through a tunnel.

Where did I go during the shifts? What happened to me? Why couldn't I remember them?

I paused in front of one of the refrigerators, gripping the handle for support. My reflection stared back at me through the tall, glass door. I'd showered on the tour bus this morning before we left, but my fresh mascara and heavy black eyeliner were already running onto my cheeks. The black lines looked like trails from a dozen spiders scurrying out of my eyes and down my tanned face. Sweat dripped from my forehead and neck as I panted.

The drone of the music distorted as its beat drifted through the shop, slowing like a cassette player running out of batteries. The broken speakers crackled and moaned, whining like they were in pain.

Why is it so fucking hot in here?

I leaned against the cool refrigerator for a second, my grip on the icy handle tightening as I caught my breath. My skin crawled beneath my clothes like insects were writhing in my veins. They carved out thousands of tiny tunnels and crevices within my bones. I pulled the V-neck collar of my shirt back from my chest. I was suffocating.

I need air.

A rush of cold washed over me as I swung the door to the refrigerator open. My gaze wandered over the selection of alcohol, and my skin prickled from the cold and anticipation. My mouth felt dry.