Dreams Can Come True

101. Frustrations

As the days flew by, the absence of Bill became increasingly palpable. Fortunately, our daily Skype conversations provided some comfort and connection. It was reassuring to see his familiar face and hear his voice, even if it was through a screen. However, the news that they had to stay longer in South Africa due to bad weather there brought a gnawing sense of disappointment. I longed to hold him in my arms again and feel his presence.
Meanwhile, the bond between Jacob and me seemed to grow stronger. He felt more like a trusted friend, and our conversations became deeper and more sincere. It felt good to have his presence, and I greatly appreciated the time we spent together. He also seemed to feel more at ease at my place, and we regularly shared cozy evenings, talking, laughing, and enjoying each other's company.
At work, Bas and I were busy preparing for the opening act of Tokio Hotel. We had fully focused on perfecting the songs we were going to perform, and every day we worked closely together to ensure everything was prepared down to the last detail. But today was a special day - the first version of our album was finally ready, and we would be able to listen to it for the first time.
With a mix of excitement and nerves, Bas and I gathered in the studio, ready to hear how our music had sounded in the hands of our talented producers. The tension hung in the air as we settled in, and I felt my heart pound in anticipation of the first notes.
When the music began to play, I was overwhelmed by a wave of emotions. Every note, every chord seemed to come to life, and I felt proud and grateful that we had achieved this. Bas looked at me with a broad smile, and I knew he felt the same - this was a milestone in our career, a moment to cherish.
After listening to the entire album, we were both speechless. The music had exceeded our expectations, and we couldn't wait to share it with the world.

I looked around the room in astonishment, my heart pounding in my throat at the unexpected request from our producers. "Elise, we want to re-record the song 'Echoes of Tomorrow,'" Johan said, choosing his words carefully. "We want you to sing the notes a bit lower."
My mouth almost dropped open in surprise. The song sounded perfect as it was. Why would we need to change it? My instinct screamed to resist, to fight for the integrity of the song. "No," I said loudly and clearly. "I'm not going to do that. The song sounds perfect as it is."
Johan looked at me calmly, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Elise, we understand that it can be hard to accept changes, but we truly believe this adjustment will elevate the song."
I opened my mouth to protest, but Paul intervened, his voice authoritative. "Elise, can I speak to you privately for a moment?"
"Of course," I replied, following him outside. The fresh air felt refreshing after the excitement and tension inside.
"Elise," Paul began, looking me straight in the eyes. "You need to understand that the producers know what they're doing. Johan has invested a lot of money in this project - money we can't afford to lose."
I sighed, knowing he was right but still not willing to give in. "But Paul, can't you hear that lowering the notes will only make the song worse? It will change the whole atmosphere."
"It doesn't matter what you think," Paul said resolutely. "Johan has the final say. If he wants you to sing 'do re mi fa sol,' then you do it. Understood?"
His words hit me like a slap in the face, but I knew I had no choice. With a sigh of frustration, I nodded slowly. "Yes, I understand." But inside, I fought against the suppression of my creativity, my art, now being influenced by the demands of the industry.

Reluctantly, I stood behind the microphone again, my voice trapped in the cage of our producers' demands. Every note I sang, every line I uttered, felt like a betrayal of my own artistic vision. The song that was once my pride now felt hollow, empty, devoid of the passion and soul it once had. But from behind the mixing panels came the words 'perfect,' and that was all that mattered to our producers.
With an angry jerk, I threw down my headphones and left the room, escaping the stifling atmosphere of the studio. I needed fresh air, space to breathe, to calm down. A sudden craving for a cigarette overwhelmed me, even though I had never smoked in my life. Instead, I angrily kicked a stone that lay outside, the sharp pain in my foot providing some relief to my pent-up frustration.
Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my ponytail, and before I had a chance to react, someone pulled me back. My balance wavered, and I felt an unfamiliar mouth on mine. My heart pounded in my throat as I realized who it was.
"Hello, darling," David said with a grin on his face, tightening his grip on my ponytail. A wave of disgust washed over me, mingled with anger and fear.
I pushed myself away and stepped back, my breathing fast and erratic. "What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice trembling with emotion and rage.
David's grin widened as he stepped closer, his gaze full of dark intensity. "Last time, I spared you. Don't think I'll be so kind now." He grabbed my arm, his grip hard and demanding.
I felt a wave of revulsion wash over me, but I fought against the fear spreading through my chest. "Leave me alone," I hissed, my voice sharp and full of disgust. But David didn't seem to be planning on leaving, tightening his grip on my arm as he looked at me with a grin.