Blonde Ivory

Number Seven: h.m.s.

Hayden Sterling

Diary Entry #2

Date: October 28th

Hey, journal. Long time; no speak. Today was a hard day. Harder than usual. Mark invited me in to speak with him about things he wished to not disclose over the phone, and I figured that he was going to force me to go to our new voice coach. That's what he told us when we met with him for the first time. "All four of you will meet with our trained voice coach once a week." He demanded before he turned to me with narrowed eyes, "Hayden more so. I know that you've never sung on an album or live in concert. That is all going to change now that you're with me."

I was wrong. It shouldn't be surprising for me to admit such a thing, I mean, I should be well adjusted to getting things wrong and looking like a complete dumb ass in front of everyone. Instead, when I arrived, Sabba made sure to speak the bare minimum and wait for Mark to explain everything to me. That part was fine. I expect nothing more from Sabba- she's short and to the point with everything she says and does.

Mark invited me into his office after Sabba and I spent at least twenty long minutes right outside of his office. I was a tad worried before I went in because I had seen Connor walk out with a wide, prominent frown on his face. He did smile whenever we made eye contact, but then he kept walking, shoving past Sabba.

Don't worry, Journal. I know you're concerned about why Connor was mad and more importantly why he took his anger out on Sabba. I yet to know the reason for that. I did, however, ask Sabba if she was okay before we went into Mark's office. She narrowed her eyes at me and spat about how I shouldn't interrupt her when she's doing her task of explaining Mark's meetings to him. I didn't want to tell her that we hadn't even entered his office yet, so I hadn't technically interrupted her.

I walked into his office and waited silently for Sabba to introduce the beginning of his meeting. She left and when I looked up from his unbelievably clean carpet, I was met with eyes so dim and lifeless that I was too afraid to move. Big mistake, Journal. This clearly annoyed him because he had demanded something through clenched teeth, "You can sit, Miss Sterling."

I couldn't possibly explain how his very tone set off a bomb in my stomach. I couldn't possibly begin to explain how the simplicity of Mark's facial expression and intense aggravation for our meeting put me in such a foul mood. I thought I'd done something wrong, like maybe my songs haven't been up to par lately or that maybe he was getting impatient for me to meet up with our voice coach for a lesson. I was so close to rambling apologies on and on until he said something that made my heart stop and my blood curdle.

I mentioned my experience with Dr. Townsend in my last entry... I don't think I explained her well enough. She was a beautiful woman. Her face was not so remarkable. If you saw her walking down the street, you'd think she was an average woman. Always wearing a blazer and a pencil skirt. She wore kitten heals every day. Her hair was always in a top knot on her head and her lipstick was always the same shade of neutral pink. She wasn't as significant as she might've seemed when I explained her to you, Journal.

Really... It was her eyes that I noticed immediately. The shining, warm brown. She was a woman who'd intimidate you until you considered her comforting brown eyes. They'd lure you in, make you believe that you were speaking to a woman who knew how to treat and comfort somebody with a mental illness. She wasn't... I had been wrong about her the whole time. Her brown eyes that reminded me so much of being cuddled up in front of a fireplace or looking through old pictures of your family could change without hesitation. With one blink they'd become the fierce brown of a charred body of a child trapped in a fire or that of the bark of trees that lead some hikers to lose their way and perish in the wilderness.