Page 113 of Haunt Me

Pierce me

Pierce my armor

Pierce my soul

Rip me open

Take my heart

What’s left of it anyway

It’s yours

It’s yours

It’s yours

They belt every single word along with me. I even stop singing at some point and turn the mic towards the crowds. They sing the chorus flawlessly.

“What is happening!” I scream at them, laughing so hard my chest hurts. “How could you possibly know the lyrics already, Athens?”

In response, they roar as if the song has absolutely ruined them. Well, honestly, it has ruined me too. I finishPierce Me, putting my soul into it. I am not distracted as I sing for them, perform for them. I am completely clear-headed when I ruin them. I watch as my songs rip them to pieces. And then, when I do the final drop to my knees, it is entirely intentional.

They explode in applause.

“S’ agapame, Issy Woo!” they all scream, and I know what that means in Greek: ‘We love you, Issy Woo!’

“I love you too, Athens!” I scream back, my voice even more ruined than yesterday, and they erupt into an ecstasy of screams.

I feel like it would be stupid to try to speak in Greek and butcher their language, even though I am more familiar with it than they might think—I have learned Greek from studying their poets. But I am aware of how hard the accent is to nail, and to try to speak it, in Athens of all places… it might backfire majorly. On the other hand, I need to let them know I understood what they just told me.

Communication is a big part of my shows, always has been.

Behind me, the sky is exploding with fireworks and purple smoke as I wipe the sweat dripping down my forehead. I turn to face them one last time. I give them a low bow, spreading my arms and bending my waist until my head almost touches the ground.

“S' agapame, Issy Woo!” they scream again, as one, so I decide to give it a try.

“Sas agapw ki egw,” I whisper into the mic, kind of wincing at my atrocious Greek accent. But while my modern Greek isn’t half as good as my ancient Greek, I can freaking tell them I love them back in their own freaking language.

Which is exactly what I just did.

My words are followed by absolute silence, as every single person in the stadium looks up at me with an expression of complete shock. As if they can’t believe their language just came out of my mouth. And then…

Then they scream.

Louder than they have ever screamed before.

Eden’s Phone

Unknownnumber: You ok? Did you get home all right?

Eden: Who is this.

Unknownnumber: Isaiah.

Unknown number: You said it was ok to text you more.

Unknown number: This is another one of the phones I use. Sorry, should have said.

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