Try {Emerson Barrett}

2

A quick note about the wording of this book, I'm not going to be writing all of the scenes with Emerson's self-harm, so sometimes it will be not mentioned, but when there is mention of him having a shower, it means he is going to self-harm and then shower. Also, even though the dreams are an antagonist within the story, I'm not writing each and every one of them, its the same dream and there is a summary of the dream. I'm not writing the dream because it's not really relevant for Emerson to be thinking about the entirety of the dream, he's lived it over a hundred times, I'm only writing about new parts of the dream. However, there will be a rewritten version of the dream from the beginning because there will be changes.

Might be triggering near the end.

***
Once again Emerson was lay awake, not even the usual comfort of Netflix could bring him peace. He had been lay on his bed for the past hour just staring at the roof of his bunk. His curtain was drawn, but streams of the now rising sun were coming through into the small confined space. It was only 5am in the morning, but the late June sun was making a guest appearance in the small bus.

He flipped over, away from the direction of the sunlight. It still wasn't working, he could still see the beams of light hit the wall that he was staring at. His mind wondered to what would happen if he got too close to the sun, metaphorically, of course, he knew there was no chance of him literally going to the sun. The sun in Emerson's scenario was death; the cut that was too deep. He had no intentions of dying, not for the will of himself, but out of love for his brothers and spite. Staying alive meant that she didn't win; also staying alive spited all the thoughts that tried to convince him to press a little harder.

Neither one of his brothers would be up anytime soon. Any other time he would suggest a Netflix binge of awful films on Netflix, or shows. But they were asleep, and he was alone.

Being alone wasn't unusual for Emerson, he was always alone; it was a consequence of hiding in his own thoughts. Even in a crowded stadium playing for all of Remington and Sebastian's fans, he was still alone. No thought passed through his head that didn't remind him of this fact.

Grabbing his laptop, he slid out of the bunk as quietly as he could, just because Remington and Sebastian were asleep didn't mean he had to wake them. His brain was wide awake, and staying in that faux darkness would drive him insane, so he decided to do something, and that something was sitting on the sofa in the living space, watching Netflix.

He had been watching Netflix for 20 minutes when he heard to rings of a curtain scrape along the pole, a telling sign that someone else was awake. He didn't turn around, he didn't need to, and they were probably just going to the bathroom. Curiosity peaked when he didn't hear feet touch the ground, nor did he hear the bathroom door open.

What he did hear though, was light footsteps approaching him. They were too light to be any of his brothers, so he deduced that they belonged to the new tour photographer who was now living in the bus with them as they started a new tour.

This time he did turn to greet her, pausing the episode of the latest Netflix show he was watching before twisting the top half of his boy 90° to look at her. She was wearing a long T-shirt and her wide open eyes made it seem like she wasn't even a bit tired, but the noticeable dark shadows tattooed under her eyes suggested otherwise.

Emerson, lowered the laptop screen, placing it by his side on the sofa, before turning the rest of his body to the same angle his top half was. "Did I wake you?" she shook her head, telling him that he hadn't. He hadn't spoken to her much, at all in fact. After the mishap earlier he had invested himself into making his brothers think he was alright and had paid no mind to the photographer that was joining them on tour. In hindsight, he had been fairly rude to her, not verbally, but he had avoided all attempts at keeping a conversation going, replying to all her attempts with facial expressions, and body movements.