The Rapper's Favorite || An Eminem Fanfiction

Chapter 22: Alive

Authors note: I've included the song Alive for your listening pleasure. In this fiction it's a song Aria has written herself so make sure you give it a listen to set the tone of the chapter.

Aria's POV

The studio feels different tonight—emptier, sharper, as if it's holding its breath right along with me. Marshall isn't here yet; he had a meeting, something about a last-minute touch-up with Paul, and I haven't heard anything since. It's just me, the booth, and the song I've been holding back, waiting for the right moment to let it breathe.

Tonight, though, I'm done waiting.

In my pocket, I feel the unsettling edges of the note Evan sent, folded tightly, as though containing its venom could somehow lessen its sting. I shouldn't have brought it, but I needed to feel its weight—a reminder of the bitterness carved into every word. I run my finger along the crinkled paper, its sharp corners pressing into my skin, grounding me, but also tethering me to the memory of his threats:

"Think you're safe, Aria? I'm watching. And that guard dog you're trusting? Hungry dogs only stay loyal while they're fed. The higher you climb, the harder you'll fall. Don't doubt it—I always keep my promises."

Attached to that note was a dog collar, Marshall's name engraved on it, like some twisted mockery. Evan wanted to make Marshall out to be disposable, some loyal pet to be put down. His words gnaw at me, curling around my mind, fueling a fire rising within me. He's still watching, lurking. But tonight, I won't let him own this moment.

I step into the booth, gripping the mic, grounding myself. My knuckles turn white as I cling to every thread of strength I've got. My heartbeat echoes in my ears, fast and strong, matching the steady, quickened rhythm of my breath. The weight of Evan's note lingers in my pocket, reminding me of the bitterness he's tried to carve into my life. Tonight, I'm not hiding behind anyone else's lyrics. Tonight, I'm singing my own. This is for me.

The beat kicks in, low and haunting, winding through the room like the first rumble of a storm. I close my eyes, let the rhythm pull me under, feel it pulse in my veins and seep into my bones. I start to sing, my voice barely more than a whisper, carrying every piece of pain and defiance I've swallowed down over the years.

"I was born in a thunderstorm... I grew up overnight..."

The words fall out, raw and exposed, each one laced with memories I've never let anyone see. I let my voice rise and fall, carving out a space for every scar, every shadow.

"I wanted everything I never had... Like the love that comes with light..."

My voice grows louder, and the grip on the mic tightens, my fingers pressing hard enough to feel the bite of the metal under my skin. The lyrics cut through me, fueled by anger, grief, and a deep need to release every secret I've kept locked inside. My chest feels tight, my breath shudders, but I push through, the tremor in my voice bringing a raw edge to every line.

"I have made every single mistake that you could ever possibly make..."

The booth vibrates with the weight of it, each lyric a release, like I'm exorcising every part of myself that's stayed silent. I pour it out, my voice rising, my heart pounding, and I can feel the burn in my throat, but it only makes the truth in each note stronger, as if I'm bleeding my soul into the lines. This isn't polished; this isn't for show. This is survival.

Then the chorus hits, and the words burst out like a scream, echoing with the fire that's been waiting, burning:

"I'm aliveeeee!"

The sound fills the room, raw and unfiltered, carrying everything I am, everything I've fought to hold onto. My voice cracks, and I can feel the sting of tears, hot against my cheeks, but I don't hold them back—not tonight. Each tear is a piece of my truth.