All the Discord by Jaliza A. Burwell

Author:Jaliza A. Burwell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: reverse harem, music therapy, child abuse, mental illness, abused female character, high school, strong female character, piano
Publisher: Jaliza A. Burwell
Published: 2022-03-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Pure rawness was all I felt after that performance. That was the first time I made it so personal that I had scraped at my very soul as I sang. I never considered myself a good singer. My voice wasn’t exactly pop star material, but I had people explain to me that it had a power that pulled others to listen. The reaction of my audience to my performance proved that.

Even as I took a breather in the changing room they gave me, I could still hear the roar of the crowd echoing in my ears, the intensity of their cheers. It certainly sounded like I had been in a stadium full of thousands, not the hundreds that had been in the audience.

It took me half an hour to collect myself. The entire time, my phone kept buzzing, but I wasn’t ready to respond to them. I had a feeling it was the guys asking where to meet me or whatever. Still, I couldn’t face them yet. Not like this.

I leaned forward until my arms rested on the table and I could put my head down. The ground became my only view, all I could see as I tried to settle back down. Baring my soul was mentally exhausting and still, the experience had torn me up. Tears flowed, and I tried to draw in a breath only to release a shuddering sob as I continued to ugly cry. I was breaking.

That song I’d sung was what I’d written when I was laid up in the hospital over the summer. There had been nothing else for me to do, and I’d been trying to process what was going on with Lindie. All I knew was that she was being taken out of my life, and they were trying to determine what to do with me. One of the nurses had come in to check on me, and she’d asked what I wanted to do now that I was safe.

I had never given her an answer.

But I did get a song out of it. One that I just shared with the world. It was deep. It was personal. And as I thought it would, it had shredded me.

After my little breakdown, I managed to pull myself together. Some carefully applied makeup did wonders in helping to hide my blotchy cheeks and puffy eyes. My eyes were dull in the mirror, and I hated looking at the girl, turning away so I didn’t have to see how empty I felt. I’d let it all out on that stage and now I didn’t know what I was supposed to be feeling. Should I be happy for my performance? Sad about why I volunteered? Broken? Empty? Shattered? Proud? Happy? Did I accomplish something tonight?

I’d only made it ten feet from my tent before I was drawn into a hug by someone with strong arms, my face pressed into their hard chest.

All of me froze. My brain. My heart. My blood. Then I focused on the details.

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