His eyes wander to Levi, who has no idea what Sidney does for him. Levi has his own handler, but it’s Sid who makes sure Levi stays clean in the press. It’s Sid who makes sure the drugs Levi buys are as safe as they can be, and it’s Sid who has to sit back and watch everyone get credit but him. “No, I think I‘ve had enough tonight too.”
I know he won’t sleep much tonight if Levi stays, so I decide to be the asshole and stand up to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, party’s over. If you work on the set in any capacity it’s time for you to go to call it a night or we’ll leave you behind. Bed time, kids.”
I clap my hands and smile at them all like I’m not a complete buzzkill, but surprisingly, it’s not Levi who fights me.
It’s Jonah.
Whatever, he can stay.
––––––––
Somehow I manage to get a good night’s rest before our next show, and as theopening band shuffles their way off the stage, I find it hard not to peek out into the crowd to see if my new specter got a good spot in the pit. I don’t, though. I push her from my mind and get in the zone. I won’t look for her tonight, because that’s a distraction I don’t need, and every single city deserves all of my attention so I can give them the best night of their lives.
This is my purpose. I was born to bare my soul to people who share the same sorrows, not chase ghosts, yet by the time I’m halfway through my set I spot her singing her heart out right alongside me.
Do ghosts sing? I probably will when I join the afterlife, but she seems more alive tonight than she ever has.
So I hop off stage, make my way over to stand on the barricade, and reach out. Multiple people grab onto me and squeeze like one touch will help them feel a little less like shit, and every single one of them helps close the chasm inside that I was born with. Her fingers brush with mine briefly asIt Hurts Because You’re Aliveends, and I nearly reach back to grab them, but in that moment I realize two things: one, I never want to stop doing this, and two... she’s not a ghost at all. She’s real.
Chapter Four:
Obsession
Alaina
“You’re vibrating,” Brooke laughs, and I nearly deck her as we get a little closer to Bash. I only managed to snag two meet and greets so each one counts, especially since the tour is nearly half over already.
I can’t screw this up.
But how do I explain that? How do I make her understand that he’s the only human I’ve ever met that didn’t take anything from me?
My parents were serial killers. The most prolific married duo in history, actually. I had my suspicions when I was young, butthe true scale, the true horrors weren’t made clear to me until they were arrested. All I knew before that is that sometimes they didn’t feed me, they rarely paid any attention to me at all, and when they did... I got hurt. I was always in the way. My mom used to call me her shield, she’d pet me and hold me and tell me how precious I was because I was shielding them, and then a couple of days would go by and I’d ask for a little bit of food as my stomach devoured my insides and she’d hit me for even asking.
From what I’ve been able to piece together, they were only nice to me in the hours and days immediately following a kill. I was their shield because no one suspects parents to be killers, not like that. The Golden State Killer got away with his crimes for decades simply because he was a family man.
But no one knew I existed. I didn’t have a social or even a birth certificate until I was put into foster care, so I wasn’t much of a shield. I didn’t help stop suspicion, I think I raised it. People started noticing the little emaciated girl who didn’t go to school, who rarely left the house.
I was their sword.
And even my adoptive parents took their fair share from me, from the stipends they received, the labor they got from me, and the societal clout every time they told someone what heroes they were.
Build and break and fucking rot.
Bash was different. He was just a kid like me, but he shared food, drinks, blankets with me. He gave me a safe space to run to with no strings attached, and in his own way, he taught me things my parents never did.
So I can’t screw this up.
“One more,” she rushes out excitedly, and anxiety grips me so tightly I can almost picture the walls I’ve built cracking and crumbling to the point where all that insidious rot will be spilled on the floor at Sebastian’s feet.
I nearly run.
“This way,” someone calls, ushering us into the room, and I immediately spot them.
Levi says something that has Yasmin smacking his arm and Bash nearly cackling, and suddenly I’m afraid if I open my mouth, I’ll vomit every terrible thing that ever happened to me.
“Fuck. Go first,” I beg quietly. “Please?”
“I got you,” she whispers, then steps out in front with her ponytail swinging. “I can only imagine what he said to get that type of reaction,” she jokes, and all of their eyes land on her. Or most of them, because one set of orange ones immediately lock with mine.
