White Noise. (weißes Rauschen)

Tour Bus Talks At 3a.m.

"Noise? Hey, you awake?" A soft voice wakes me from a light sleep, and I open my eyes in the dark.

"Kriss?" I ask, recognizing the voice. When my eyes adjust, I see the skinnier twin looking back at me, the curtain to my bunk in the tour bus pulled back.

"Yeah..." He says softly, and bites his lip. I sigh inwardly, feeling bad for him. He was so nervous about the Hell 155 tour, and lately it had been keeping him awake at night.

"You wanna talk?" I ask, keeping my voice down so we wouldn't wake Chase, Kriss's twin.

"Yes please." He whispers, and heads towards the kitchenette of the bus.

I swing my legs over the side of my bunk, drop down silently, and check the lower bunk to make sure Chase is still asleep. Then I pull my boxer-shorts up higher on my hips, and grab the big black hoodie I borrowed from Silence, pulling it on.

I grab a BLK water from the mini fridge, and sit with Kriss at the table.

"You having the nightmares again?" I ask him.

He sighs through his little nose, and closes his amber-colored eyes.

"I'm in the white room again." He starts, describing the reoccurring nightmare he's had every night for the past week and a half.

"Then the wall opens, and they shove Chase in. The wall shuts again, leaving no trace of a door. I run over to Chase, just as he collapses. He's cut all over, deep slashes covering his body. His blood stains my white shirt, but I don't notice. All I can feel is the pain. I can feel what they did to him. They whipped him, over and over until he went unconscious. It feels like being burned alive, and I feel every lash of the whip, feel the skin lifted off in strips with every lash." Kriss's eyes are still shut, but years are leaking through his thick eyelashes.

He's terrified that his nightmare will come true. Chase is his twin, his anchor, his world. They love each other as only twins can, and they have what we call twin-telepathy. Meaning if Chase did get hurt, Kriss would feel it. They can also read each others minds, to an extent.

"I keep telling myself it's not real, it's just a bad dream. But it feels so real." He's shaking now, and I move to hug him. He clings to me, and I rub his back, noting that I can feel his spine.

"Kriss, look at me." I say, and he wipes his eyes before meeting my eye.

"Have you been eating?" I ask.

He closes his eyes again, and shakes his head no.

"Kriss you have to eat something. I know it's hard, but if you don't, you'll start blacking out again. We're worried about you." Kriss doesn't have anorexia or bulimia, he just loses his appetite when he's stressed.

"I know, Nani." He says, using his nickname for me. His gaze shifts from my eyes, to his twin's bunk, just over my shoulder.

I watch his expression for a moment, seeing the muscles in his face relax, and his pupils dilate slightly. I know now to keep silent while he listens to his twins thoughts.

When he comes out of the trance-like state, I ask quietly. "What's he dreaming about?"

"He's thinking about when we were kids. I was getting beat up because I was so skinny and weak, and he scared away the bullies. He carried me home, washed the cut on my cheek, and gave me ice for my black eye.

But he's not focusing on my injuries. The way he sees me, I'm like a bird with a broken wing. Beautiful, fragile, broken." Kriss sighs, but he's not sad. He states what his twin's dream means.

"He's worried about me."

Hey guys, should I keep going with this story?? I'm not sure if it's good or not.