How do you navigate a world that has always seemed just out of grasp?
Isabela has always known how to navigate life without sight. Growing up in a small town on California's coast, she relied on her instincts, her unbreakable connection to the sea...
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The moment before the accident
Just two more concerts, and we're finally done with the world tour. We're back where it all started - New York, our home. Today and one more show in two days. After that, it's over.
The rest of the guys are still in the room next door, getting ready. I can hear them laughing, probably getting their makeup done. I've never understood the need for all that. I don't need makeup, just my guitar.
I grab my favorite one and sit down, letting my fingers find the familiar strings. The first few chords of a new song I've been working on flow easily. I lose myself in it, the world around me fading into the background. It's the only time I really feel at peace when I'm playing.
Then, suddenly, a loud, constant banging interrupts my focus. It's coming from the aisle just outside our room next door. I look up, annoyed, and through the slightly ajar door, I catch a glimpse of someone standing there and entering the band's dressing room.
Wait... is that a blind person?
I pause, my fingers hovering over the strings. She's got those dark glasses on, and she's holding a cane, but something about it feels off. Probably a fan trying to trick security. I've seen it before. People will do anything to get backstage.
Without thinking, I stand up, my blood already starting to boil. I don't know why, but the sight of her just pisses me off. It feels like a betrayal, like she's mocking me, mocking all of us who've worked so damn hard to get here.
I storm over, yanking the glasses off her face.
And there they are, her eyes. Hazel and wide, staring at me, terrified. But they look... normal. Not clouded, not like a blind person's eyes should.
She's faking it.
My chest tightens with fury, and before I know it, I've grabbed her cane and thrown it across the room, the clatter of it hitting the floor echoing around us. I'm shouting now, words I don't even fully register, anger pouring out of me in a flood. She's backing away, flinching, trying to say something, but I'm not hearing it. I can't hear anything over the rage in my head.
She stumbles backward, her foot catching on something, and before I can react, she falls hard into the glass table.
The sound of shattering glass snaps me out of whatever fog I was in. I freeze, watching in horror as she hits the floor, her body surrounded by shards. Her arm is bleeding. There's so much blood.
What the hell did I just do?
Mick bursts into the room, his face pale, eyes wide as he takes in the scene. He's screaming at me, his words sharp and panicked, but I'm not really hearing them. "Go get George! Now! Get the manager!"
My legs move before my brain catches up. Autopilot. I stumble out of the room, my heart pounding in my ears. My mind is a blur, a mess of confusion and guilt. I can barely think straight.
