The bus continues moving through the night, driving us hours away to our next destination. We'd sleep here tonight, then book a hotel for the next two. Our days off are always spent traveling and tend to feel so empty. The only way to feel productive is by writing music, which I've felt unable to focus on recently. I'd rather spend my time mindlessly exercising, relieving stress in a physical way. Days like this, I find myself stuck in my mind or asleep.
I don't want to assume he put those cameras up in the rooms. It honestly couldn't have been him. Why would he put any in Mike's? The flash makes me pause, however. Again, it felt very intentional. It seems like I was meant to notice the flash like at our last show.
Thinking about our next performance makes my stomach sink. I'm afraid of seeing him there. I just want to disappear, so he can never find me again. I hate the way he looks at me, how he stares with so much hatred. It terrifies me that he was taking pictures. Maybe that shouldn't bother me so much considering everyone else at the show is too, except I know him. I'm not entirely sure what he wants, but the ideas I have scare me. I don't want to deal with this anymore. I haven't had a chance to heal.
I'm craving a cigarette. I've been trying to limit myself to only having one after a show. Even having that one isn't a good idea, it's made me want them more and more often. I have a pack in my carry on bag, but I can't smoke it on the bus. The others would notice instantly.
I creep out of my bunk and notice the others are asleep. It's extremely late. I spent the whole day and half the night sleeping. It's not even that I'm tired, I just don't want to be awake. I don't want to think. Except sleeping can't always protect me. Dreams are always nightmares. I grab my bag and tug out a lighter along with a cigarette. Not wanting to startle the bus driver, I cleared my throat as I approached him. He half turned, keeping his eyes on the road.
"Oh, hey, Chester," He greeted me. "Have you been feeling okay? It seems like you spent the entire day asleep."
"Yeah, I'm alright. Just not much to do on days off, you know?" I nervously laughed, surprised he even noticed. If he could tell, I'm sure my bandmates were concerned too.
"I mean, I get that, but..." He trailed off, seeming to think over his words. "Honestly, it's a bit worrying. I won't ask again - are you feeling okay?"
"Um," I didn't expect this reaction from him. I wanted to ask if we could pull over for a moment, so I could smoke. I can't lie to him. "I've been kinda down, but I'll be alright. Do you mind if we pull over for a little bit?"
"Can I ask why?" He asks, while taking the exit off the highway.
"I wanted a cigarette," I respond honestly. He nods and gestures for me to sit in the passenger seat.
"Bad habit," He frowns, then looks at me quick to wink. "But I smoke too. We'll be at a rest stop shortly."
"Thanks, man," I smiled. We've had the same driver since our very first tour, but I don't think we've ever chatted like this - it was always small talk.
"When did you start smoking?" He asks. I bite my lower lip, almost afraid to admit.
"I smoked here and there at 12, but started smoking daily when I was 14," I nervously laugh.
"That's too young, man," He shakes his head. "I started at 16, thought it was cool. Very dumb of me."
"I feel that way too, I regret ever starting. I've tried to quit, but..." I trail off, noticing we passed the rest stop. "Hey, I think you missed our turn."
"Yeah, sorry, it was on purpose. There's been a car following us since we got off the highway. Honestly, I'm not sure how long they've been there," He sighs. "Could be nothing, though."
"I didn't even notice," It feels like all the air has been sucked from my lungs. I can't help assuming it's him. I always do.
"I'll park at an overnight store and smoke with you. There should be people around," He reassured me.
"Don't really know if I want that cigarette anymore," I admitted. He pats my shoulder.
"It'll be okay, man," He promises, then focuses on the road. "Nothing will happen, I'll be with you."
"Thanks," I sigh while repeatedly checking the mirrors.
We drive in silence for a few minutes when the car suddenly turns off into a gas station. We say nothing, but continue searching for a store to stop at. It doesn't take too long to find one and I feel relieved when the driver and I step outside.
"Thanks again," I half smile as I light my cigarette. He lights one of his own.
"Anytime, seriously. Also, I told you we'd be alright," He chuckles. "Nothing to worry about. You need to relax."
"Hey, you're the one who said they were following us," I defended myself, making him laugh. We smoke the rest of our cigarettes.
"I'm going inside for a couple things," He lets me know. "Need anything or want to come with?"
"That's okay, I'll just stay with the bus," I decide, he nods in agreement.
"Alright, I'll be back," He walks through the parking lot and disappears into the store.
I take a deep breath, trying to relax. I feel so paranoid, thinking that random car was him. My life is completely full of anxiety, I'm sick of it. Just as I'm thinking about having another cigarette while I wait, headlights next to us turn on - catching my attention. I can't help shaking when I notice it's the same car that was just following us.
