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The tires scream again as the limo revs up, but the fans swarm around it, not letting it move an inch. Will the nightmare never stop? My heart is pounding in my ears. I’ve never felt so useless, so helpless in my life. This is not a nightmare: it’s never-ending hell. The fans bang on the windows of the car rhythmically, all together, trying to tear them down. Good luck with that, they’re bullet-proof.
My heart is in my mouth.
My heart is in that limo, with Eden, who must be falling apart.
Is she breathing ok? Is someone there to hold her hair if she cries? If she gets sick? If she faints?
I can’t stand this, it’s worse than dying.
“Heartbreaker! You won’t leave this place alive!”
And then, suddenly, the one sound that can pierce through the bloodthirsty screams of the crowd: A cruiser’s siren.
Then another. Two, three of them. Ten, twenty. Howling in tandem. Then whistles, as the policemen get out. Police bikes surround the place, as the cruisers flood the place in red and blue lights. And then the Glocks come out. I hate that the police have to beat the hell out of these kids until they finally go home–or get arrested. But I know that at this point, there was no other way that this could have ended–except with dead bodies strewn about.
And the first dead body would be Eden’s.
She’d be dead now if my guards had hesitated even for the bat of an eyelash. If the police hadn’t arrived within minutes of the episodes starting. If…
Everything sways abruptly to the left.
“Isaiah! Hey, Isaiah! Grab him, he’s going down!” my bodyguard screams and lunges to catch me before everything goes black.
…
“Is this my fault?” I whisper two hours later, still in disbelief. “Did I do this?”
Skye and I are standing outside Eden’s door, with two armed guards. As if that would be any help.
My agents are a dull echo somewhere in another room, screaming over their phones to my publicists and the media team to try to do damage control. Ren is furious. Just a minute ago, he flew off the handle at my assistant, yelling at her to find out what happened, who leaked out the information that Eden is my ex.
I told him to calm down. I don’t care.
Everyone around me can scream all they want. The single person I care about in the world is inside that little room, having a panic attack, and who knows what else.
The feeling of helplessness still has me in its grip even though it’s been hours and we are safe in a hotel room. We’re flying to Athens in a few hours in a private jet—no public airports for her and me after this. The police have taken statements, and Eden’s been examined by the doctor—she’s not physically hurt. But she hasn’t been able to calm down yet either.
Skye looks at me with bloodshot eyes. I can’t even imagine how terrified he must have been. My mind was only on Eden, but he… He must have been through hell and back. He’s still not completely back, by the looks of him.
“Is this my fault?”
“Why the hell would you think that, Isaiah?” Skye sighs. It’s almost four in the morning, and no one has gotten a wink of sleep. Skye tried to get me to leave my spot outside Eden’s door, but yeah. Not happening. “The world is so messed up, man. I’m never letting you out of this place ever again.”
“It’s a hotel, Skye,” I murmur, for the first time almost about to smile.
He grabs the back of his neck. “Well, I’m buying it for you,” he says simply. “I’m serious. I just shaved twenty years from my lifespan. What happened in that club was so effed up. I can’t even… I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“Hey, come here,” I lean in for a quick hug, and he pulls me in and presses me against his chest. “It is my fault,” I say, smushed against his torso. “I made the creative decision to share my pain with the world, ok? It has its side-effects, I guess. Being an idol might be the dumbest thing one could be, actually.”
“It’s not your fault, Isaiah,” Skye growls, letting me go. “You are a brilliant artist and the best human being I know. Don’t let me catch you thinking like that again.”
“Then how did this happen? Who else knows about Eden?”
He lifts an eyebrow. “It’s true? She is the heartbreaker in your song?”
I nod and try to swallow. I can’t. There are stones lodged in my throat.
Skye swears. “What she do to you?” he asks in a low voice.
