A Twist of Fate SERIES (Pentatonix)

(40) Let It Go

this chapter is vvvvvvvv important... ;)

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( KIRSTIE )

I've always loved meeting fans. Greeting them, hugging them, smiling with them, signing autographs for them, taking pictures with them, graciously and humbly accepting gifts from them. No matter the level of exhaustion or dread I'm at prior to meet-and-greets, it's like I'm on top of the world as soon as we're done and heading back to the dressing rooms with our gifts in tow.

It all just serves as a reminder that what I'm doing with my life is right. That dropping out of college to brave reality TV was right, that writing and arranging like crazy was right, that putting out albums and doing interviews and going on tour was right. That it was all worth it.

But today is different. Not only has our label specifically invited one hundred people for an exclusive, essentially six-minute, event, but it's also like the camaraderie I used to have with the fans just isn't there anymore.

The door opens, and one group is sent in at a time, after previously meeting with Kevin and Avi respectively. At this point, they've been through so many metal detectors and patdowns that I'm surprised they haven't just left yet. After security watches us like a hawk for exactly two minutes, the group is sent off to another metal detector and another patdown and then, finally, Scott. The door opens again, another group enters with big smiles on their faces, and the cycle restarts.

Almost nobody brings any gifts, unless it's a drawing or a card. Security is tight in the already claustrophobic room, and it almost makes me nauseous, smiling like crazy and trying to decipher the words the fans are rushing to say to me for fear of running out of time. Because, if this were a year ago, we would all be in the same room, gifts could be given and words could be spoken regularly... but, most importantly, Mitch would be here.

Now I'm accepting pictures of Mitch from teary-eyed fans who tell me, "It's another way for you to remember him," as if they think I have an accent wall in my apartment dedicated to Mitch's face.

And, I mean, that's not entirely untrue. If only they knew how much I think about him, how much I worry about him, how much I wish he were still here, how much I wish I could erase the last two years from my memory.

Because, again, if this were a year ago, we would all be in the same room, gifts could be given and words could be spoken regularly... but, most importantly, Mitch would be here.

I'm surrounded by security as I exit the room after meeting all one hundred people, feeling claustrophobic all over again as we make our way back down to the dressing room. Part of me used to be okay with all of the security, used to feel safer and more protected, like I should be—but now it's just suffocating. Every time I see more than one guard, it's just a reminder of everything we've been through, and negative thoughts start to swirl around in my mind.

And part of it isn't even my wishing that Mitch hadn't killed himself. It's the idea of having to put our dreams behind a stop sign for, most likely, the rest of our lives and not being able to do what we love that's debilitating. Heartbreaking. Hard to come by.

But I've been fighting the storm with a painted smile on my face, hoping that one day it might actually be real. I have a wedding to plan, a house to find in New Hampshire, a whole life ahead of me. Best friends and a fiancé and family fighting right alongside me.