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Their light starts to wane
And we wonder how can they endure
Living a life of pain and feeling impure
Did you ever notice, stranger?”
After dragging out that last note, I released a breath, letting the last of the guitar notes float away. The silence was deafening, no one speaking or making a single peep. They were speechless, and I knew I’d done my job. I’d bared my heart to everyone, and they’d heard me.
Loud and clear.
After a few more silent beats, I stood and bowed.
They didn’t go crazy until I was already halfway off the stage, the soft thump of my footsteps my only companion. Then they gave me a different kind of deafening sound as they roared and thundered at my final performance. They wanted more, but I couldn’t give it to them. I’d already given them everything I had in me for the night.
Never before had I felt so bare.
Chapter Seventeen
Pure rawness was all I felt after that performance. That was the first time I made it so personal that I had scraped at my very soul as I sang. I never considered myself a good singer. My voice wasn’t exactly pop star material, but I had people explain to me that it had a power that pulled others to listen. The reaction of my audience to my performance proved that.
Even as I took a breather in the changing room they gave me, I could still hear the roar of the crowd echoing in my ears, the intensity of their cheers. It certainly sounded like I had been in a stadium full of thousands, not the hundreds that had been in the audience.
It took me half an hour to collect myself. The entire time, my phone kept buzzing, but I wasn’t ready to respond to them. I had a feeling it was the guys asking where to meet me or whatever. Still, I couldn’t face them yet. Not like this.
I leaned forward until my arms rested on the table and I could put my head down. The ground became my only view, all I could see as I tried to settle back down. Baring my soul was mentally exhausting and still, the experience had torn me up. Tears flowed, and I tried to draw in a breath only to release a shuddering sob as I continued to ugly cry. I was breaking.
That song I’d sung was what I’d written when I was laid up in the hospital over the summer. There had been nothing else for me to do, and I’d been trying to process what was going on with Lindie. All I knew was that she was being taken out of my life, and they were trying to determine what to do with me. One of the nurses had come in to check on me, and she’d asked what I wanted to do now that I was safe.
I had never given her an answer.
But I did get a song out of it. One that I just shared with the world. It was deep. It was personal. And as I thought it would, it had shredded me.
After my little breakdown, I managed to pull myself together. Some carefully applied makeup did wonders in helping to hide my blotchy cheeks and puffy eyes. My eyes were dull in the mirror, and I hated looking at the girl, turning away so I didn’t have to see how empty I felt. I’d let it all out on that stage and now I didn’t know what I was supposed to be feeling. Should I be happy for my performance? Sad about why I volunteered? Broken? Empty? Shattered? Proud? Happy? Did I accomplish something tonight?
I’d only made it ten feet from my tent before I was drawn into a hug by someone with strong arms, my face pressed into their hard chest.
All of me froze. My brain. My heart. My blood. Then I focused on the details. Male. Tall. Solid. Dangerous.
Images of being dragged into an empty room and then destroyed even further with more pain played through my mind over and over. That was until Seth’s cologne tickled my nose, and I realized I was okay.
His touch was not rough. It was gentle, supportive, drawing me in. Letting me know he was there.
I allowed my body to relax, even as I tried to figure out what I was supposed to do with myself. Seth should have just hugged a pole. He probably would have gotten a better reaction than what I was able to give him. He tucked his head into my neck and squeezed me tighter against him.
As comfort?
Was he trying to comfort me? Or maybe himself?
Was this a good job kind of hug?
A supportive hug?
I really didn’t know how to take it, and it must have shown on my face because someone chuckled.
“Seth, give her room to breathe,” Bryan said. I looked over Seth’s shoulders and finally noticed all the boys standing there. Calvin was doing a weird dance, trying to hold himself back. Or he needed to go to the bathroom.
I was tempted to point him in the direction of the porta potties when Seth finally let me go and stepped away. Calvin used that opportunity to launch himself at me.
