What It Cost

Knocked Loose

Lilly woke to the hum of the tour bus beneath her, a vibration that signaled they were on the road again. She stayed curled up in her bunk, staring at the wooden panel above her, feeling nothing but an empty sadness pressing down on her chest. The muffled voices of the boys up front blended with the sounds of a show playing in the background, but she had no motivation to join them.

Minutes passed. Maybe an hour. Eventually, she forced herself up. Sliding out of her bunk, she padded to the front of the bus, grabbing her laptop and camera from the small kitchen area before retreating to the back lounge, saying nothing to the boys as she retreated back.

She sank onto the long couch along the right side, crossing her legs beneath her as she powered on her laptop. The SD card slid into place with a soft click, and she immediately pulled up the latest photos she'd taken. Editing had become second nature now, her process honed to a science. Within a short time, she had finished, posting across her socials before shutting her laptop again.

Still, the emptiness lingered.

Determined to keep her mind occupied, she got up, retrieving a small bag from her things. She returned to the couch, pulling out the new filters she'd bought at the camera shop. Taking a deep breath, she placed the SD card back in her camera and started testing them out, adjusting the lens and watching how the light refracted in different ways.

The quiet shuffle of footsteps pulled her attention briefly. Jolly stepped into the back lounge and settled into the seat across from her.

"What're you up to?" he asked.

She didn't look up, still adjusting her camera. "Testing some new filters."

Jolly hummed, watching her work. Without another word, she lifted the camera and snapped a few pictures of him, trying out each lens filter. He leaned forward as she turned the camera to show him the examples.

"These are cool," he said, genuine interest in his voice. "I like this one."

She nodded absently, scrolling through the rest of the images. Silence stretched between them, comfortable but weighty. Eventually, Jolly broke it.

"We're stopping at a hotel tonight," he informed her. "Should be there in a few minutes."

She barely reacted, just gave him a quiet, "Okay."

Minutes passed, and soon the bus rolled to a stop. She still hadn't spoken to the others, hadn't even really seen where they'd gone. Grabbing her bags, she took the key card from Matt as he handed it to her.

"Room number's inside the little card holder," he said.

She gave him a thumbs-up, glanced at the number, 504, then made her way inside the hotel. The elevator ride was silent, her reflection staring back at her in the metallic doors. When she reached her floor, she moved down the hall, sliding her key card into the lock.

The door next to hers opened.

She turned her head just slightly. Noah.

His gaze locked onto hers, piercing, filled with something else she refused to acknowledge. She rolled her eyes and stepped into her room without a word, locking the door behind her.

That evening, a knock at her door pulled her from her haze.

"Hey, we're going for food," Matt's voice came through the door. "You coming?"

"No."

She barely opened the door, just enough for him to hear. He shrugged, offering no argument, and she watched as the band and crew walked down the hall. When they disappeared around the corner, she closed the door again, sinking onto the bed.

Hours passed. Another knock.

She frowned, hesitating before walking to the door. Peeking through the peephole. Nothing.

Slowly, she unlocked and cracked it open. No one stood there, but at her feet, a styrofoam to-go box sat on the carpet. She bent down, picked it up, and flipped it open.

Spaghetti and meatballs.

A scoff left her lips. Typical.

She closed the container, placing it in the mini fridge without another glance. Stripping off her clothes, she stepped into the shower, letting the scalding water run over her skin. By the time she climbed into bed, exhaustion took hold, but the heaviness in her chest remained.

She never touched the food.

---------------------------

Lilly woke up the next morning, the weight in her chest as heavier than the night before. She lay in bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling, willing herself to feel something, anything, other than this dull emptiness. It didn't work.

With a deep breath, she pushed herself up and went through the motions. Shower, clothes, pack up. Her body moved, but her mind remained elsewhere, stuck in the void she couldn't climb out of. She grabbed her bags and left her hotel room, heading down the elevator.

At the front desk, she slid her key across the counter without a word. The clerk nodded, and she turned to leave. Outside, the bus sat waiting. She loaded her luggage and climbed aboard, settling into the small kitchenette space. Pulling her knees to her chest, she scrolled aimlessly through her phone.

A few notifications blinked at her. Texts from Tasha. From Jolly. From Matt. And, surprisingly, from Noah. She didn't open any of them. Instead, she kept scrolling, eyes moving over the screen without really processing anything.

Before long, the others arrived, their voices filling the bus as they carried in their bags. The air shifted the moment they saw her sitting there. The chatter dulled, their eyes flicking toward her before they each found something else to do. Lilly pretended not to notice, her thumb idly swiping at her phone as the bus rumbled to life.

The venue was close, just a few minutes down the street. When they arrived, everyone shifted into work mode, unloading gear and setting up. Lilly fell into her usual rhythm, walking the space, planning shots, making mental notes. But the weight in her chest didn't lift. The emptiness remained. She hated it. Hated feeling this weak. Physically, emotionally. It gnawed at her, and she clenched her jaw, forcing herself to keep moving.

By showtime, the venue buzzed with energy. Fans packed in tightly, their excitement a living, breathing thing as the lights dimmed and the first chords rang out. The roar of the crowd should have invigorated her, but tonight, it barely touched her. Still, she did her job, moving through the space, camera in hand, capturing the moments the fans lived for.

But she was slower than usual. Less precise. The lightheadedness in her head and lead in her chest clung to her, every movement feeling heavier than it should. She told herself to shake it off, to focus. It didn't help.

She worked her way toward the pit, aiming to capture the chaos of the crowd. A massive circle pit had formed, bodies colliding in mayhem. She took shot after shot, adjusting her angles, finding the best vantage points. She was so caught up in her work, she didn't notice the pit growing bigger, wilder.

She didn't see the reckless swing of an arm coming toward her.

A solid hit landed against her side. Hard. Air shot from her lungs. Her vision went white. The sound around her dulled to a distant hum, ears ringing violently. She stumbled, her footing lost. Someone crashed into her. Then another. The world spun.

She hit the ground.

A foot clipped her shoulder as someone ran past, then another before anyone noticed she had gone down.

She couldn't move.

Then nothing.