Page 176 of Haunt Me

Afterwards, Jude and Miki tell me that I was pumped up like never before, that I screamed at the top of my lungs, that I was electric. I honestly remember none of it. I was thinking of her the entire time.

I end all my concerts from now on with a new catchphrase: “Be ready!”

The first time I say it, in London, people lose their minds, screaming and then going online to find out what I meant. I continue doing it, until they learn to wait for it and yell it back to me.

I am laying the groundwork for when I announce my new album, whenever that may be. I came up with the idea of saying something cryptic to foreshadow it, so to speak, and my publicists thought the words ‘be ready’ would be perfect. And they are, more than they know.

I feel as if I am saying it to myself every night on the stage, preparing myself for whatever will come, all the sorrow and joys that await me after life on tour. A life without Eden, possibly.

It’s like staring into the abyss.

I will never be ready for a life without her.

…

It’s early October and I’m back in the studio, well on my way to overstuff my newIsaiahalbum to the gills with new, tortured songs. I have already recorded fifteen of them, which is more than usual for an LP, but there are more coming. And I can’t stop them.

Skye knows exactly what is happening in the studio, as do my producers, but they don’t stop me either. I don’t know if they could if they wanted to, to be honest.

I have just finished recordingShooting Star, one of the songs we wrote with Eden—and one of my favorites—when my phone lights up.

It’s Faith. But she is not texting me; she’s calling me.

“Faith, hey—” I stop abruptly, my heart jumping in my throat. I sit up. On the other end of the line, Faith is crying so hard she can’t talk. I go into panic mode.

“What’s wrong, Fee?” I try to calm her down, and myself, but she is crying so hard I am about to lose it.

Every horrible scenario I can think of is running through my head and I can’t breathe. What’s happened to Eden?Dear God, please, no more.She can’t take any more. I can’t take any more.

“I screwed up, Isaiah,” Faith says eventually, through sobs.

I sigh, trying to control my breathing.

“Want to tell me how?” I ask her gently, as if I’m talking to a little kid.

I need Manuela, I think frantically. I am honestly a little scared of her; I would do anything to avoid talking to her, especially on the phone, and yet I would dial her into this call in a heartbeat.

“Nice slow breaths, Fee,” I try to speak calmly through the drumming of my heart. “Breathe with me. In, out. Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I… I am a horrible human being.”

Ok, that’s not helpful at all. But I think I’m starting to get to know Faith well enough by now to recognize that this is how her brain processes things. First she panics, then she blames everything on herself.

“That’s not true,” I tell her slowly, my heart still beating like crazy. “Is this about Eden?”

More sobs. I wait.

“Yeah, it’s…”

My heart stops, but I don’t interrupt her.

“It’s her birthday,” Fee says. For a second, I don’t get what all the crying and panicking is about, but then she adds: “It’s Eden’s birthday. And she doesn’t know.”

It takes me a minute to realize what the hell Faith is talking about—my brain can’t grasp it. But then, I finally do. Realization hits all at once, and then my heart is breaking. And breaking and breaking.

I sit down abruptly, the world going fuzzy at the edges.

“Her birthday? And she… she doesn’t know?” The question comes out as a croak.

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