Damaged Goods, A Priceless Return

rmain promised to be my shield. I was the silent composer

l me "damaged goods, a m

licly humiliate me, then abandoned me-injured an

ne. In his place was a stranger who saw me

ot as a victim, but as a celebrated artist. He's back, begging for a second chance

pte

d goods, Cheri. A mil

dproofed booth. They hit me like a physical blow, each syllable chipping away at the fragile wor

ll, one that always preceded the crushing weight of a panic attack. But this time was different. This time, the

." Just this morning, she'd beamed, praising my courage. "Y

All of it for him. For Jermain. I had imagined his face, lit up with pride, when I finally spoke his name without

ning rubber, the terrifying silence that followed the last scream. Just sixteen, I had been pulled from the wreckage, a ghost

lue shirt smeared with my mother's blood, but his eyes were clear, unwavering. He'd knelt beside my

of our band, the one who charmed fans and navigated the complex social landscape I couldn't face. I was the quiet composer, the brilliant music mind behind their r

bs. I thought he was waiting for me. That he was excited to hear the breakthrough I' d just made. My fingers curled aro

et laced with venom, drifted through the thin wood

Baggage. Is t

. "What else can I do? It's been years. Th

gs felt like jelly. I leaned against t

ted burden, I'll grant you that, but a burden nonetheless. Look at you. You could be a global sup

a low whistle. "She's dead weight, man.

each one a shard of glass ripping through my chest. My bre

urned white. Every sound from the other side

aid, his voice a low rumble. An attem

fe? About not having to babysit your girlfriend every time she steps outsid

right?" Emil added. "A sick, twisted version of a p

ship was? A twisted obligation, a childh

onstantly worrying if she's going to freak out. Tired of missing out on net

felt like a brand

ou're meant to shine, not to be a glorified nursemaid. You're not her keeper. You're her boyfriend. An

Jermain's especially, chipped away at the foundation of my reality. The air grew thin, my vision

d the depth of his disgust. "He doesn't

tter weariness that spoke volumes. "I just... I want to live. I want to be free. I want to make

A beautiful, talented ghost, but a ghost

Not Elia, the artist, the woman he loved, but a tragic

song of ambition. "Cut the cord. You're Jermain Anderson. You could

rough me. A sigh of heartbreak, but not for me. For hi

o of the boy who had once held my hand. "Afte

promises, Jermain. We all make them. You need to

tle. It was brutal. His silence was his answer. I

calding, unable to soothe the fire raging inside me. The carefully constructed

mpossibly loud. I stumbled backward, my legs giving out. I hit the cold, hard floor with a thud, biting

e words I had saved for him, for our future. They were bitter ash in my mouth now. The "I love you"

had pitied me. He hadn't seen me, not Elia, the girl who wrote son

the gaping wound in my chest. But it was real. My body ached, mirroring the deep, irreparable damage to my

n the pit of my stomach. No. I wouldn't be a victim. Not anymore. I would not be d

set. I wiped the tears from my cheeks with a shaky hand, forcing myself to brea

heir ambitious plans, their pity for me long forgotten. I took a deep, shuddering brea

ht, overly cheerful, filtered through the

uffled hair, his hand reaching out to touch my arm. I flinched, almost imperceptibly, stepping back just enoug

ushed, his eyes darting around the room, avoiding mine

ched, not from panic, but from the words I refused

, "Cheri and Emil are heading out. We th

boy who had promised to be my voice was gone. In his place stood a stranger, a selfish, ambitious man I no longer r

py, a deliberate effort to feign a lin

, right. Of course. Well, you rest up. We'll grab something for you, okay? Don't

out, a forced whispe

nt of impatience in

ispered. "Just.

. Always." And with that, he was gone,

rs flying across the screen. The contacts list. Jerm

I started typing a message to Dr. Evans. I need a new path

rison. It was a blank canvas. And I, Elia