Nocturne

I - Avila

Fuck my life.

I've been working hard my entire life. I've worked hard to get those bastard to where they are today, and this was how they were going to repay me?

I can already see tomorrow's highlights.

Avila Dietrich, aufsteigender Stern oder inkarnierter Teufel?

(Avila Dietrich, rising star or devil incarnate?)

Though I would probably buy it. Who wouldn't? I'd be curious to know what kind of loony stories they'd sell the media. How much they'd twist it to make not even a quarter of what I made for them in the past 5 years.

I made them seem worthy of being called an orchestra, and now, the moment they think they can stand on their own, they throw me away. My methods were harsh, I can admit that. But you can't possibly be better than what you currently are without stepping out of what you're used to. The fact that we've won countless rewards proved that.

I slam the door of my apartment shut as I toss my key to the kitchen counter and shrug off my coat.

I was fuming.

Ever since the direktor pulled my father and I to chat, I've been hearing my father's incessant badgering. I couldn't take it anymore. So what did I do?

I did what any loving daughter would do.

I stopped at a gas station and drove off while he was in the bathroom. He was fine... I think. The gas station was on a familiar road. He could easily commute back home.

I did send him a message, some bullshit about an emergency coming up. I'll never hear the end of it once he gets home. God, this all makes me want to fly off into nowhere.

As if the heavens heard my plea, my phone rang. I figured it was my father, about to yell at me for not only getting us fired but also for leaving him in a gas station without a word.

My father was a retired maestro himself, so naturally, he'd stick by me. Not in a way that I expected, though. I figured he'd just come to my performances and all that, but instead, he taught himself and became an Orchestrator. So wherever I'd get hired, he always comes with, not that I was required to have an orchestrator. Companies in Germany quickly learned this and started sending me recruitments for a conductor and an orchestrator.

To my surprise, it was Bastian, my manager. I'm guessing he heard about what happened.

I took a deep breath before answering.

"So -"

"You got fired. I heard."

I sighed as I ran a hand down my face. I really didn't need another lecture.

"Yeah, we should probably look for a new company before this hits the tabloids. Who knows what the others would spread around." I muttered in annoyance as I took a seat on my couch.

Now that I actually sat down on the couch for more than a second, I finally noticed what it looked like. It looked empty. Lifeless. I've had the apartment for two and a half years, and yet it didn't look like someone lived in it.

There weren't any photos, plants, decorations, or even my trophies and awards as those were stored in a storage facility I rented.

Other than the random music sheets spread around the floor, the vinyls stacked on one corner of the room and the keyboard plugged in facing the transparent wall overlooking the city, it looked like the plain apartments you'd tour in when first buying it.

Not to mention the amount of open but unpacked boxes scattered around my bedroom.

Bastian's voice forced me back to reality. "Actually, I got ahead of you on that."