Page 161 of Haunt Me

I know what I need to do. I have known it for some time now, even though I haven’t said it out loud. But it’s time. This album is going to be filled with songs that did not come about on accident, likeHeartbreaker, or out of blind pain, likeSaint Hope; they are going to be something I hope to eventually be proud of.

And it’s time.

“I think I want to be Isaiah,” I tell Skye. A huge weight is lifted off my chest as soon as I say it.Freedom.

“Um, are you forgetting a tiny little thing?” Skye, to his credit, doesn’t bat an eyelid. But he does look at me as if he’s worried I’ve lost what’s left of my mind.

“What’s that?”

“You freakingareIsaiah,” he replies patiently.

“No, I mean as a singer. I am Issy Woo, and I hate that. That’s not me anymore—I’m ready to move on. I want to stop being that product. That lie. I want to be Isaiah.”

There’s silence for a bit as he digests it. Shock, I think. Then he’s thinking in the way only Skye thinks. Slowly and rapidly at the same time. It usually makes me want to tear my hair out watching the cogs turn in his head, but not this time. This time I wait, calmly. No matter what he says, I’m doing this.

But I don’t know if I can do it without his support.

“Fine,” he says finally. “It’s going to be a lot of work, you know that, right? I’m not even sure if the producers will allow it this early in your career…”

“I know. I am doing this. Whether the producers back me or not. Willyouback me?”

Skye looks at me. This tour costs so much money, and so many jobs are on the line. I can’t afford to displease the producers, or anyone right now. He knows all this; still, he says nothing. Not one thing. Except:

“I will. We are doing this.”

I nod, grateful, and the next minute he’s gone, already dialing numbers on his phone. ‘We are doing this’, he said, but I know there is no ‘we’ here, now. If I do this, if I fail or if I succeed, it’s going to be me. Nothing but me. Finally.

…

On my first Cardiff night, after I’ve finished my regular set, I step up to the mic.

“Cardiff, you have been an amazing audience. That’s why I want to tell you something special tonight.”

They roar, and I wait them out. After they settle down, I give another dramatic pause. If I am ‘always so dramatic’, as Eden always used to say, then I want to make her proud right now.

Bring on the drama.The fans love it.

“My name,” I say quietly into the mic, “is Isaiah.”

The crowd reacts in waves of cheers and screams as they begin to realize what I am doing. I am revealing a part of myself I had kept so carefully hidden. I am giving them all that was left of me: My name.

“My name is Isaiah,” I repeat, now shouting over the clamor, “and I wrote this song.”

I nod to Jude and we go straight into the intro forPierce Me, as we had rehearsed. Someone hands me my violin, and I start singing before I play. The crowds singPierce Me with me, matching me word for word, note for note.

I am half agony, no hope

Thinking of that multiverse

that’s picturing us happy

Where I haven’t hurt you yet

and never will

Where you’re still reading under that tree

And I’m confusing

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