The Rapper's Favorite || An Eminem Fanfiction

Chapter 10: Ghosts of the Past

Aria's POV

The apartment feels suffocating. The air is thick, and the walls seem to close in, pressing down on me. I can't think straight. Evan's voice is still in my head, like he's got his hands around my throat, controlling me from miles away. No matter how hard I try to shake it off, the weight of his power is everywhere.

I pace across the living room, my feet tapping the cold hardwood. It doesn't help. Nothing does. The memory of Evan's smug grin is stuck in my head, like a brand. I hate that he still has this hold on me, even after everything I've done to get away. I hate that I let him take so much from me.

Marshall's pacing too, his footsteps heavy. I can feel the tension crackling in the air between us, waiting to explode. I know it's coming—he doesn't hold back when he's angry, and tonight, I can tell he's about to let it all out.

"You should've told me," he growls, his voice low but sharp. "What the fuck was that back there?"

I stop in my tracks but don't turn around. "I didn't think it mattered."

"That's bullshit," he snaps, his voice rising, sharp and cutting through the thick air. "You didn't think it mattered? You've got some asshole from the industry pulling your strings, and you didn't think that was something I needed to know? We've been working together for months, and you didn't think this was important?"

I clench my fists, my heart pounding in my chest. "I didn't want to drag you into it, Marshall."

"You already fucking did!" His voice is raw, and I feel him take a step closer. The weight of his frustration is almost palpable. "You didn't think this affects me? Or the album? You think I wouldn't care that some prick's been controlling your whole career?"

I finally turn to face him, my chest tight. "You don't get it. Evan—he's dangerous. He's not just some washed-up producer. He's got real power, and if he decides to come after you, after the album—he'll destroy everything."

Marshall stops pacing, his fists clenching at his sides. He laughs, but it's sharp and bitter. "Destroy me? You think I'm scared of him? You think he's the first person who's tried to take me down? Fuck that. I've had people coming after me since day one, and I'm still standing."

"It's not just about you, Marshall!" I snap, the frustration boiling over. "He didn't just try to take me down. He erased me. I had to change my name just to keep writing, and even then, I was invisible."

Marshall's jaw tightens, but he doesn't back down. "Yeah, and you're still here. You're still making music. You didn't let him break you."

I turn away, pressing my palms against the cool glass of the window. The city lights blur behind the fog of my breath, but my mind is stuck in the past. For a second, I'm back in Evan's office, his voice low and menacing as he tells me I'll never work again. The way he made me feel so small, so powerless, as he smiled like he'd already won. Like my future was his to control.

I swallow hard, trying to push the memory away. But it clings to me, as if reminding me of all the ways I've let him win.

"I thought he believed in me," I whisper, my voice trembling. "I thought he saw something in me no one else did. But all he wanted was control. He controlled everything—my music, my image, my life. And when I walked away, he made sure I was done."

There's a pause, thick with the weight of my confession. Marshall's anger simmers, but I can feel it shifting into something else—something more deliberate.

"You remember what you told me, right?" Marshall asks, his voice dropping a little. "Back in that diner? About legacy?"

I don't say anything, but I nod. I remember every word.

"You didn't let me sit there thinking I'd only be remembered for my mistakes. You reminded me of what I've done—how I changed the game, how my name will live on. You made sure I didn't forget that my legacy is more than just the shit I've been through."

His words hit hard, like a slap of cold water. I did say that. I said those things to him because I believed it. Because I knew he deserved to be remembered for more than the mistakes.

"And now I'm reminding you," Marshall continues, his voice tightening with emotion. "You told me legacy matters, and you're fucking right. But this isn't just about mine anymore—it's about yours. You've been fighting from the shadows, even if you don't see it. And now it's time to stop hiding. This is your legacy, Aria. You deserve to own it."

My throat tightens as the fear claws at my chest. The thought of stepping into the light, of putting my name on the album and having Evan see it—it's terrifying. I can almost hear his voice again, telling me I'm nothing without him. Telling me he'll ruin me all over again.

"If I sign that contract, he'll know I'm back. He'll come after me. He'll come after you," I whisper.

Marshall's laugh is dark, a bitter edge to it. "Let him fucking try. I've been through worse than him, and I'm still standing. I'm not scared of that prick, and neither should you be."

He steps closer, his voice dropping but no less fierce. "You survived him once. You're still here, still making music, still fighting. You deserve to have your name on this album, on your work. Don't let him take that from you. You told me I wasn't just noise, remember? Well, you're not just a ghost. You're fucking real, Aria, and it's time to show the world that."

The words slam into me, harder than I expected. He's right—I said all of that. I reminded him of who he was, of what he's built. And now he's using my own words against me, showing me that it's time I fought for myself the same way I told him to fight for his legacy.

"I don't know if I can," I whisper, my voice shaking.

Marshall's eyes narrow, his voice hard and unrelenting. "You can, and you will. You think I'm gonna stand here and let you throw away your legacy after everything you told me? I haven't fought my whole life to watch you give up yours. You're signing that contract because it's yours. Your name. Your story. Your fucking legacy."

The air between us is electric, every word he says lighting a fire inside me that I didn't know was still there. The fear is still there, too, but it's starting to fade, overtaken by something stronger. Maybe Marshall's right. Maybe it's time to stop running.

"I can't let him hurt you," I say softly. "I can't watch him destroy everything you've built."

Marshall's eyes lock onto mine, his voice deadly serious. "He's not gonna hurt me. And he's sure as hell not gonna hurt you. Not anymore. But you need to stand up and fight for what's yours, Aria. This is your name. Your legacy. Don't let him write your story—you write it."

I take a deep breath, my heart racing, and meet his gaze. "Okay."

Marshall nods, satisfied. "Good. Now sign the fucking contract and show the world who the hell you really are."

I stare at him, the weight of everything pressing down on me. For years, I've been running from this, hiding in the shadows, letting fear guide me. But now, something feels different. For the first time in years, I can feel the fire again. There's still fear, still doubt, but maybe... maybe it's time to take back what's mine.