I feel like the world is spinning in circles, and a sharp pain pierces my entire head.
“We have one more song for you tonight. Let’s make it the best one yet!” Amelia screams behind her sparkly pink drums.
The bass of her drums, which always felt like a high, makes me feel overwhelmed. Like I’m going to crash onstage.
What is going on?
Just from my moment of unease, I miss my timing in the song, fumbling and refusing to glance up at the crowd. Looking just at my strings, I catch up with shaky, sweaty fingers.
Leonidas finishes the song with a high note, walking backward so we can all stand side by side. A spotlight beamsdown on us, highlighting the sweat on my body—not from heat, but from panic.
“We love you!” Leonidas screams.
Amelia waves, but all I can do is smile.
I can see the headlines.
Is Elijah Drakos high on something?
Does Elijah Drakos hate his brother and sister?
The tabloids love the drama. If they make any one of us look like a villain, they sleep better at night. At a very young age, I realized they would never care how I slept at night.
I miss being in a state where my body can dream, but instead, I’m cursed with sleepless nights.
Running offstage is a blur. Everything feels like it’s in slow motion. My heart is the only thing that’s pounding. I don’t remember falling down onto the floor, but my knees are on the cool concrete.
A cold rag is placed on my forehead, and a hand rubs soothing circles on my back.
“Elijah, tell me what you’re feeling.”
Hearing my favorite voice through this thick fog almost makes me grasp my throat and pull, hoping that will help me breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
“This is a horrible idea. Who let him do this?” Leonidas’s furious voice vibrates in my head, making me wince.
Feeling my twitch, my girl pulls me in closer to her side and peppers kisses on my temple.
“He wanted to do this, Leonidas. Did you expect me to insist he continue taking a medication he had been forced to take in the first place?” Fay argues on my behalf, but beneath the strong layer of authority in her voice is a hint of worry.
“Of course not, but is this even safe?”
“If it wasn’t, his therapist wouldn’t have given him the greenlight.”
“I want to talk to her.”
Groaning, I cup the wet towel on my skin.
“I don’t think she realizes that Elijah gets panic attacks when he tours, and we are on a fucking tour right now! Is now the appropriate time to get off anxiety medication? Look at him.” Strong and firm, his voice could cut glass. “He’s surrounded by triggers. He’s going to give himself a heart attack!”
“Leonidas, I agree with you, but?—”
He pleads brokenly, “Then help him, please!” Hands grip my shoulders, pulling me up. My brother’s arm winds around my shoulders, holding me up, like he usually does.
