Page 16 of For Fear

"Yeah, or maybe he just got addicted to gambling and couldn’t handle losing." She turned away from him, focusing instead on the projector screen where Lila's image flickered with haunting beauty. The juxtaposition between what she had been and what she had become echoed painfully in the silence.

"Still, it's strange," Derik pressed, his tone shifting. "Two stars burning out in the same way—two victims with pasts that scream potential. There has to be a connection we’re missing."

"Agreed. We should talk to some people who knew them in their prime—their mentors, maybe. We should spit up. I’ll track down Lila’s violin tutor, you look into someone who might’ve known Simon well. Sound good?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Derik nodded.

Rising from her chair, Morgan snatched the faded black leather jacket slung over the backrest. She shrugged into it, the familiar weight of her FBI badge nestled in its pocket, giving her some semblance of certainty in an investigation that seemed to be shrouded in gray.

***

Morgan flicked on the headlights of her car, slicing through the deepening twilight as she navigated the winding streets of Dallas. The sun dipped low, casting long shadows that seemedto stretch and claw at the pavement. She felt them tugging at her, too—reminders of the darkness gathering around Lila and Simon’s lives, and now, impossibly, around her own.

The GPS chirped, directing her off the main road into a quieter neighborhood. It pointed her toward a small music studio, its quaint exterior almost charming against the backdrop of crumbling brick and fading paint. Morgan parked and stepped out into the cool evening air, the scent of damp earth mingling with a faint whiff of something sweet wafting from a nearby bakery.

A faded sign above the door read "Clarice’s Music Academy." Inside, the atmosphere was thick with nostalgia—a tapestry woven from years of melodies and dreams. She pushed the door open, and it creaked like an old floorboard, announcing her arrival.

"Hello?" Morgan called, her voice echoing softly against the warm-colored walls filled with photos and framed sheet music.

"Just a moment!" came a reply, a warm tone that cracked slightly with age.

Morgan waited, scanning the room for signs of life, her eyes landing on instruments lining the walls, each one carrying stories of their own. A violin caught her attention—a gleaming piece that seemed to glow under the dim lights. Lila’s potential had once been wrapped in such beauty.

"Ah! You must be Morgan Cross," an elderly woman said, stepping into view. Clarice was petite, her silver hair pinned back neatly, her smile radiating warmth but tinged with lines that spoke of hard-earned wisdom. “I heard you were coming.”

"Nice to meet you, Clarice." Morgan offered a firm handshake, appreciating the way Clarice's grip had strength despite her delicate appearance. "I’m here about Lila Sanchez."

"Of course," Clarice said, guiding Morgan deeper into the studio, where the air buzzed with memories. The walls wereadorned with photographs of students—some smiling widely, others looking pensive, all clutching their violins. "Lila was one of my brightest stars."

"Brightest until the light dimmed," Morgan replied, her voice steady but laced with unspoken questions. She could feel the weight of the past pressing down on them both. "I want to understand more about her before... well, before everything fell apart."

"She was so talented," Clarice began, her gaze drifting momentarily to the floor. “But talent comes with its own burdens. The world expects so much from prodigies. Sometimes, they fold under the pressure. When she started to struggle, she pulled away. It was heartbreaking to watch."

"Pulled away how?" Morgan pressed, leaning forward, eager to grasp any threads that remained.

"She became distant, rebellious even. The last time I saw her, she was... lost. The joy had drained from her music," Clarice said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It was like losing a daughter." Clarice clasped her hands together, her fingers trembling slightly. "From the first lesson, it was clear she had something special. You know how some kids just… shine? That was Lila. She soaked up everything I taught her. It was like watching a flower bloom."

Morgan nodded, feeling the weight of the words. "But there’s always a flip side to that kind of talent, isn’t there?"

"Yes." Clarice’s smile faltered, her eyes clouding over. "As she grew older, the pressure became unbearable. Everyone expected so much from her—her family, her peers, even herself. It changed her."

"Changed her how?" Morgan pressed, her instinct for uncovering the truth kicking in. She needed to dig deeper to understand what had really happened to this girl who had once held so much promise.

"She started to withdraw," Clarice said, her voice thickening with emotion. "Around high school, I noticed it—the spark dimmed. She became distant, rebellious. I tried to reach out, but…” She sighed heavily, the memories weighing down her words. “It was like she was fighting a battle inside herself, and I couldn’t help her. I think, in many ways, her biggest enemy was herself.”

"Self-doubt?" Morgan asked, testing the waters, trying to piece together the puzzle that was Lila Sanchez.

"More than that," Clarice replied. "It was the fear of failure. The expectation to be perfect—that’s a heavy burden for anyone, let alone a child prodigy. And when she stumbled, she didn’t just fall; she shattered."

Morgan felt an echo of her own past creeping in, but she pushed it aside. This wasn’t about her. "Did you ever see any signs of trouble before it got too bad? Friends? Jealousy? Anything?"

"Jealousy exists among young musicians, sure, but it was never personal with Lila. Not that I saw, anyway. It was all internal. She lost sight of who she was outside of music. When she stopped performing, it was like she ceased to exist in her own mind." Clarice's voice trembled with the weight of those words.

"That must have been hard for you to watch," Morgan said, feeling the air thicken with unspoken regrets.

"Hard doesn’t quite cover it." Clarice shook her head, her expression both weary and resolute. "I wanted to save her, but sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you can't pull someone back from the edge."

Morgan felt a knot tighten in her chest. She didn’t want to dwell on her own past struggles, on how she’d fought against the currents threatening to drag her down. Instead, she focusedon Lila. A girl who had become a ghost, haunted by her own brilliance.

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