Surrounded by people, surrounded by things, but I was still all alone.
* * *
I’m afraid I’m going to fade.
* * *
She picked up a guitar and wrote down all her fears
Through the rage, through the pain, and through all the tears.
She never really had a childhood, and the line was never clear.
But her whole life changed when they said, “Sign right here.”
* * *
This is my one last chance to make it, and
This time, I will learn from my mistakes.
This time, I will fix everything I break.
Like a phoenix, I will rise from the ashes.
I will right all the wrongs so I can sing my songs.
And thank all the people who followed me all along
And believed in me.
I’m only human, and I’ll sing the truth,
No matter what comes.
* * *
The tears fell as she listened to it the first time, and she was full on sobbing when she played it again. The way her voice sounded was haunting, especially against the minimal background track of a single guitar and piano, both soft and complementary. He’d kept in her breathiness and the spots where her voice sounded weak—and even in the places where the emotion had made it crack and grow raspy.
It killed her in the best way…and, had another artist written this song, she would have cried as she listened, knowing that it was beautiful and perfectly imperfect.
Had she and Quentin finished it together, she would have put her stamp of approval on it, agreed to put it on her album, but why had he done this now? Why, after completely taking the trust they’d built and breaking it into a thousand tiny pieces, had he decided to take what she’d created and shaped it into something worthy?
But as furious as she was with Quentin…it was hard to say no to this track.
It wasn’t long after that she got a call from someone at the label she hadn’t worked with before. “Ms. Dennison, Mr. Jackson asked that I contact you to see if you wanted the last track sent over by your producer added to the final version of the album.”
“Mr. Jackson?”
“Yes, Tristan Jackson, Vi—”
“Oh, got it. Thank you for calling.” She paused, making sure it was what she really wanted. “Yes, I think it would be best as the last track. I’d like to see it there.”
“Okay. Got it. Thanks.”
When she hung up, she considered for half a second sending an email to Quentin to let him know. But no…she wasn’t about to contact him. She’d already closed that door, and it was time to move on. Although she was grateful that he’d helped her save her career, he’d hurt her probably worse than anyone else ever had.
From here on out, there would be no looking back.
