Chester bounced the rubber ball against the wall. It collided with the floor before returning back to his hand. He repeated the process, barely focusing on the basic task. He felt so cramped in his tiny, patted room. The only thing inside was a single bed, nothing more to insure he didn't attempt to hurt himself.

He was desperate for one thing only, to be released. Not just from this room, but from life. He wanted out, he couldn't take the torment anymore. Memories flashed before his eyes, making sure they left a large gash in his brain that left a big, black hole full of nothing - just empty emotions that reminded him that he was all alone through this. He couldn't take the thoughts any longer or the voices he was hearing in his head. They pressed him to die and that's exactly what he wanted and tried to do. He couldn't count how many times he attempted suicide on both his hands. He was just so desperate for an escape. He was baffled how he has survived this long with all his effort going into trying to die. 

The band knew something was wrong the moment Chester began wearing long sleeves again and stopped taking off his shirt when performing. They'd tilt their head in curiosity, but were frightened to ask such a harsh question.

'Are you hurting yourself?'

That was the question his friends wanted to ask for so long, but they kept quiet. They didn't wish to intervene with the singer, believing he'd come to them if help was needed. Little did they know Chester was in a heap of trouble and it wasn't over, he wasn't sure it would ever be over. This one question, so blunt at first spoken, could have possibly saved Chester. Maybe he would've gotten the courage to speak up about what had happened to him. Perhaps it would've snapped him back into his hellish reality.

He let out a shiver, realizing how chilled his room had become. He was more soft spoken since his experience weeks ago. He was now shy and afraid to ask for even the smallest of things. He craved warmth from an extra blanket, knowing the one on his bed just wouldn't do, but he kept quiet.

His ball came to a stop when he caught it once more and rolled it into a separate corner, interest in it lost. He crawled up into his small bed and tried to keep warm beneath the single, thin blanket. His eyes wouldn't shut as much as he begged them to. Another sleepless night was up ahead.

~

Mike stared up at the ceiling, the other half of his king sized bed left empty. He felt terribly lonely and trembled in paranoid pain. He wanted to cry out, alert the others that he was not well, but remained silent. He could never disrupt their sleep simply for his own benefit.

The absence of his vocalist had left Mike in a terrible state of depression. He wasn't taking this well, he was scared for Chester. He knew he was safe in the suicide watch but he couldn't help the nagging feeling at the pit of his stomach that begged him to check up on Chester. Although he couldn't even do that, not for at least a few more days. He had to wait for them to call him, until Chester showed signs of improvement. All his attempts to know more about him would just fail.

It was especially difficult on Mike than the others, not simply because he and Chester were together. He was the one who had discovered Chester. He wouldn't dare think about the moment he found his body barely alive, but his nightmares dragged him back down into the memory and he couldn't forget. He wasn't sure if he'd ever forget every last detail of that day, but was determined to make sure Chester never tried again.  

He had received a call today from the watch, getting his usual daily call to get updates on how Chester is doing. The watch alerted Mike that something terrible must've happened to Chester to cause him so much pain. Mike was filled with paranoid thoughts on what could've happened to the love of his life. He spent the entire day dreaming up scenarios on what happened to Chester. He simply couldn't wrap his mind around his own thoughts.

Accepting the fact he wasn't about to sleep anytime soon - not that he wanted to, due to the nightmares - he slowly crawled out of bed. He stood and instantly felt light headed, nearly falling back down. He's been so worried about Chester, he hadn't been sleeping or eating much. He let out a small sigh to himself and left his room to head downstairs. He stopped when he saw his friends, who were surprisingly still awake. He decided to himself he didn't wish to speak, but would rather listen. He took a seat on the floor on the upper level, still having a clear view of all of his friends.

"What do you think happened to him to make him want to hurt himself?" Brad voiced his concerns, settled in the couch next to Joe who seemed completely lost in thought but snapped out of it when Brad spoke. All the guys seemed to have changed ever since Chester had. They tended to keep to themselves and rarely voiced their own thoughts anymore.

"He was raped," Phoenix said confidently, causing Brad's brown eyes to widen and shine in shock. Rob, who was resting in a chair nearby with his chin on the arm rest, rose his head to Phoenix's voice. Joe seemed to have a slight tremble to his body at the thought now pushed into his head and Phoenix simply stared into the floor as he sat on it.

"Why would you think that?" Brad asked quietly, with a bit of darkness in his voice. He sounded scared, but looked to Phoenix directly to hear his voice of reasoning.

"Not to be gay, but Chester's an attractive guy. He's alone a lot and that's the perfect opportunity to get attacked. Also he started to flinch easily before this happened, it just seems logical to me," Phoenix answered and it seemed to be enough for the guys. They all seemed to fade away from talking and went back to their thoughtful gazes into the ground.

Mike, who was still listening to them, quietly slipped away back to his room, another theory added to his list of possible events to have happened to Chester. Everything Phoenix had said was so true to Mike, it made absolute sense. Chester was always alone, whether in the studio or just walking home. Chester had to write some meaningful lyrics that would usually upset him, making him extremely vulnerable to anyone around him. He easily could've been taken aside and violated, not having any strength to fight back.

Guilt instantly flooded Mike's brain. He felt he should've done more with Chester, make him feel like he could tell Mike anything. If only Mike hadn't let him be alone so often, maybe Chester wouldn't have become so independent. Maybe he would've talked to Mike instead of hurting himself. 

Mike couldn't lie about their relationship. It wasn't the best and they were constantly starting to fight. Mike had barely spent any time around him and he was beginning to realize that he didn't know what Chester's been up to recently. They would still sleep in the same bed and talk in the studio while working, but rarely chatted anymore or kissed. They just yelled at each other - mostly from Mike's end.

"I just don't want to argue anymore, Mike. I scream enough onstage, I don't want to take work home with me," Chester sighed after a heated argument. Mike had snapped at Chester for not yelling back at him. The fight didn't seem justified when Chester didn't let down his walls and protected them. 

Even though Chester hadn't wanted to fight anymore, it didn't stop Mike. He regretted everything and sometimes wondered if it was his fault Chester tried to kill himself. 

Mike rolled back into bed, silent tears running down his face. All he wanted to do was hold Chester and run his hands through his hair again. He missed having his warmth next to his and just his entire presence. He never should have pushed him away. It was starting to hurt him as much as it was hurting Chester.