Blair O'Connor was the life of every party-popular, fearless, and always the center of attention. But behind the perfect image was an abusive boyfriend who slowly stripped away the girl she used to be.
After finally breaking free, Blair transfers...
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November 16th 2001
Second year was seriously kicking my ass. If I heard the word "future" one more time, I was going to lose it. Everyone kept asking what I wanted to do when I "grew up"—like I was supposed to have my entire life perfectly planned out.
The truth was, I didn't have all the answers. All I knew was that whatever I ended up doing, it had to involve music. I wanted to be a singer. I loved singing.
But then there was Connor. He never seemed to get it.
We were sitting in the park one afternoon, and I had been excitedly talking about this small gig at a local café I was considering signing up for.
"I mean, it's nothing big, but it's a start, right?" I said, unable to hide my excitement any longer.
Connor glanced at me, then back at his phone, barely paying attention. "You're good at singing, Blair, but come on... is that really what you want to do? I mean, not everyone makes it, you know."
My stomach dropped. I blinked, trying to process his words. "What do you mean? You don't think I can make it?"
He shrugged casually, still scrolling. "It's not that. I just think you should be realistic. Focus on something more practical. What if it doesn't work out? You'll need a backup plan."
I felt my chest tighten. "I am being realistic. I know it's not easy, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't try."
Connor sighed, finally looking at me, though his expression was hard to read. "I'm just saying... you're smart. You could do something more, I don't know, stable. Music's great and all, but you don't want to waste years chasing something that might never happen."
His words stung more than I wanted to admit. I was used to him being a little dismissive or controlling, but this felt different. It felt like he was deliberately trying to dim my passion.
"You don't think I'm wasting my time, do you?" I asked, trying to sound casual, but there was a tightness in my voice I couldn't shake.
He immediately softened, leaning closer to take my hand. "Blair, come on. I'm just trying to help you. I don't want you to end up disappointed, that's all. You'll figure out what's best. I just think you need to keep your options open."
I frowned, looking away. Part of me wanted to argue, but there was this other part—this nagging doubt he always managed to plant—that made me question myself. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was just dreaming too big.
"I don't know," I mumbled, staring at the ground. I wanted to believe in myself, but the way he always twisted things, made me doubt my own thoughts, it was hard.
He gave my hand a gentle squeeze, his voice taking on that soft, almost condescending tone he used when he wanted me to drop something. "Look, it's fine. You'll figure it out. Just don't stress over something that probably isn't worth it, okay?"
