𝗩𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗡𝗔 ↝︎ ᵍʳᵃʰᵃᵐ ᵈᵘⁿⁿᵉ

𝙨𝙞𝙭, 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣

track two: i'll take you there

Nothing could eradicate our determination. Excitement lingered in the air as we entered the Sunset Strip. Although it wasn't what we had expected, it was a start — our start. We looked past the fact that hardly anyone was there. We looked past the fact that not a lot of influential people visited often.

We couldn't afford to think like that, not after everything we had done to get there.

"Karen Karen, I'm glad you decided to join us," I said as we set up, a wide smile on my face. When I first met her, I asked her first name. She answered, and then I asked for her last name. Because of the pounding music, she misheard and repeated her name twice.

Karen Karen.

Of course, her last name wasn't Karen, but the nickname stuck like glue. She replied, "I am too. It's nice to have other girls in a band." It didn't take long for us to grow closer. Each performance we did made us fall in love with the band over and over again.

Ripples of certainty unveiled our future waving to us in the distance, almost like a mirage. Singing made the whole world disappear — made me forget about my past, which was what I wanted more than anything.

Midway through every song, Graham and I would make eye contact, guaranteeing each other that the stage was where we both belonged. At that moment, it felt like the world was just me and Graham. It made me feel at ease.

GRAHAM: Eight months of performing in a little bar with hardly anyone watching us wasn't ideal, but we treasured it. Blaire loved it. Her eyes always lit up. Her voice captivated people — and us.

BLAIRE: It made me feel like I had control over my life. I was finally living... But the hope I had crumbled bit by bit when our money shortened with each passing day.

Running my hands through my hair, I scoured the room I shared with Karen, looking for some extra money to help pay rent. As I rummaged through my drawers, the letter from Eva slipped out. It screamed at me to open it as it sat on the floor.

Years had passed since the incident. I have had years to heal — years to get over it and move on with my life.

So why the fuck couldn't I open it?

Unable to answer my own question, I picked it up. Simply looking at it haunted me, but I couldn't pull my eyes off it. A knock at the entrance made me flinch.

"Hey, B," Graham said, leaning against the doorway. Before he could see what I had in my hand, I shoved it into my jean pocket.

"Hey," I said, shutting the drawer. "What's up?"

"Find anything?" he asked, knowing exactly what I hoping to uncover. Collecting coins and mere change had become common. Disappointed, I shook my head.

"You?" I asked, replacing my dismay with an optimistic smile.

He walked toward me and nodded. "Gave what little I had left to Camila."

"Graham?" I murmured.

"Blaire?" he replied.

"You think this band thing is going to work?" I asked. Our band was like a river, gradually changing and currents shifting, and I loved it more than I ever anticipated, but now my shadowed thoughts were getting hard to obscure.

His facial expressions softened upon detecting the worry lacing my tone. Night after night, it became harder to convince myself that the voices in my head were spitting lies. "It will."

For me, it had to. If the band didn't flourish as we expected it to, I didn't have anywhere else to go. Everyone had somewhere they could settle down, but I would rather die than return to Pittsburgh. It was my personal hell. There was no sense of belonging there. Demons with fiery tongues inflicted pain I could no longer handle.