Page 37 of Fallen Princess: Shadow Stalker

Unfortunately, Catalina hasn’t got a clue about how it works. Music comes from the soul; it isn’t like riding a bike.

“How do you know what he’s been doing?” I gaze at her with a mixture of curiosity and mild amusement.

"I was hoping that the curse I cast on all four boys, ensuring they never return to music, had taken effect.” She asserts, her expression unwaveringly serious.

“That was a bit harsh.”

Catalina is a practicing witch, although her skills only extend to herbal remedies, crystal rocks, tarot cards, pagan beliefs, and maybe her solitary nature. I also wouldn’t put it past her that she possesses a little bit of an evil eye. Casting a spell is probably a touch too fictional paranormal for the real world, but I’ve never challenged her on her beliefs.

Over the years, she’s shown that she’s loyal and trustworthy, so all the other weird stuff about her flies past me without second thoughts. She knows most of everything that happened to me and recognizes the importance of fleeing LA for my life. Although I did keep a big chunk of my trauma to myself as the memories started to filter into my mind, it was all chaotic, and I had to piece it together.

A horrifying ordeal I never want to relive or remember.

I settle into the armchair, cradling the guitar in my arms as I strum a few chords absentmindedly. A surge of inspiration rushes throughme. A cascade of lyrics floods my mind, and it is as if the universe had chosen this solitary moment to gift me with a melody.

“In the shadows of despair, where dreams had faded away, A life once abandoned, in the silence it lay. But deep within the ashes, a spark refused to die, A whisper of redemption, beneath the moonlit sky…”

Hastily, I reach for a pencil under the stack of sheets, grabbing a blank one. The words flow from my pencil with a sense of urgency, a lyrical dance of emotions that had been lingering beneath the surface.

These words paint a vivid picture of my current emotions. A mixture of heartache and resilience, capturing a fragment of my soul that had always refused to perish.

I turn my attention back to my guitar, my fingers delicately dancing over the strings, searching for the perfect chords to complement the emotions encapsulated in my lyrics.

As I close my eyes, I feel the room filling with my instrument's rich, resonant tones, the melody gradually taking shape like a sculptor shaping clay into a masterpiece.

I play and replay, experimenting with the rhythm and tempo until the music feels like an extension of my very being. As the final chords resonate, I open my eyes and sit back with a sense of fulfillment washing over me, and a decision is made.

Catalina stands before me, and I smile at her. She leaves my journals on the table next to my mug of tea.

“That sounds beautiful,” she says.

“The lyrics inspired me,” I pick up the sheet I wrote on earlier and pass it to her.

She takes it, and I watch her read it, but her face quickly drops to a frown, realizing my intentions.

“Surely, you’re not considering it!”

“Everyone deserves a second chance.”

“They do not,” she mutters.

“I was referring to myself,” I say sharply. “Catalina, I was born to make music. Sitting here for the rest of my life, creating music for no one to hear is a waste.”

“I’m not no one. I listen to your music.”

I huff a laugh, “And I appreciate that, but you’re also paid to hang around here.”

“You think I’m here because of the money?”

“You’re here because you want to be, and I appreciate you stuck around when you didn’t have to. But look at it logically. If this goes well, maybe I can go off and create a solo album on the side. This time, I’ll be more vigilant and have a goal.”

“And what about the stalker, Eden?”

She knows about the death threats and is aware that I couldn’t run to the police. She also knows about my kidnapping and the ordeal I suffered for days. She doesn’t know the details, but I think she’s guessed the brutality I was forced to suffer.

“It was ten years ago. Maybe he’s moved on. Maybe he’s dead. But I can’t keep hiding because this isn’t want I want to do forever.”

“If they didn’t turn up here, you wouldn’t be thinking this.”

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