Skybreak [not to be continued]

XVIII

The audience started clapping, applauding my performance. A proud tear brimmed to my eye, and I smiled at the crowd who were cheering. They liked my song!

A warm and loving feeling spread through my veins; my heart beating unusually fast as I blinked in disbelief at the reaction of my listeners.
Within a minute, an overwhelming sense of satisfaction and pride flowed through me as I stared, still astounded, at their response to my song. There were also the few people who often didn't listen to my music, instead sat with their headphones in; I was delighted to see that they too were paying attention to my performance today!

Even standing in the back row (the crowd being one of the biggest I had ever played to, an advantage of playing to the rush hour traffic) stood Luke, a small grin on his face as he turned around and backed away from the crowd.

No mater what, I still didn't let it dampen my mood, and I just thanked the people around me as I quickly fiddled with my strings as I thought of a new song.

"You can't play on broken strings, you can't feel anything that your heart don't want to feel, I can't tell you something that ain't real."

I sang James Morrison's Broken Strings, it being one of my favourite songs of his, as many of the crowd departed to get on their train. I caught a second glimpse of Luke on the carriage, but his back was to me and he didn't see me. The few remaining people formed a closer circle around me as I began to play again; washing away any previous emotions that I was feeling.

It was times with a small audience of unfamiliar faces that I truly remembered why I was in London. There was no feeling more satisfactory than playing a few songs that I liked to a small crowd of strangers who enjoyed my performance. It was the true essence of the music that had drawn me in so many years ago, and life had only provoked me to get me to where I was now.

I could spend my days relaxing into the songs I sung as my usually timid voice, now powerful and meaningful, echoed around the fancy Victorian architecture of the train station. The small spaces had an iconic design which allowed the acoustics to bounce off all the surfaces and create a very musical atmosphere. There was really no feeling like the one that surrounded you in this situation. I just wished I could be here forever, because it was all I ever really wanted to do.

Suddenly, as the train began to pull away (with Luke on it) from the platform; it stopped as soon as it had started. Having only just moved about 50 metres, it took several seconds to stop as I halted my playing to see what was happening. The brakes squealed like nails on a chalkboard as the train's breaks tried to support its weight as ground to a stop. The noise had caused an interruption to many people's lives and I swung mu guitar across my back, walking toward the tracks to find out what had happened. Much of my audience had also had the same idea as me, and we all cautiously ran to the edge of the platform to see what was in front of the train; or rather, what was left in front of it.

The once calm and peaceful mood was shattered by the sight of a single body lying broken on the tracks. A young girl, no older than myself, lay hunched in front of the train: her body just stilling from the convulsions that she had just experienced due to the high levels of electricity she had absorbed.

A short sob escaped my body as I examined her. The long sleeves of her jacket rising up with the static of the tracks - only to reveal tens and hundreds of scars, most of them new, lining up her arms. Her grey eyes, the colour I was named after, stared lifeless at the wall. Their movement stilled, echoing that of the her breast.

She had jumped onto the tracks.

Steeping backwards, my guitar still slung against my back, my hands flew to my mouth as I gasped; inhaling the sob that I was trying to let out. The crowd were all stood back from the platform edge, everyone in as much shock as I was. I couldn't even bring myself to talk, and I could barely gain enough willpower to back away.

The crowd began to part and step away from the platform as paramedics arrived at the scene. Although we knew little about medical procedures, the assumption we all had was confirmed on their arrival. Not even the defibrillator could revive the hopeless case in front if us. A crackled recorded voice spoke out of the speakers to inform us this station was now closed. How could they just be so oblivious to this whole situation? Someone had just died. Another son escaped me as the harsh reality hit me. A poor, innocent victim had claimed her own life.

Tears filled my eyes as I pushed my way back towards the curved wall of the platform, wishing I could un-see, un-do everything that had just happened. My guitar lay on my lap as I sat on the filth-ridden ground; not caring about my jeans. All I wished that I could just be somewhere else. Anywhere else. I just needed to be away from here.