All You Had To Do Was Stay

8.The Black & White Girl

He has a smirk on, then he chuckles and shakes his head. "Any other...possible questions you may have?"

I ignore his stupid smug expression. "When did she start doing...all this?" I raise a brow, softening the frown I have had on for a while now.

"Four years ago, I suppose? Wasn't famous nationally until she played some big role in a ballet show. I think people know her for her music mostly, although she never toured around. She just played shows here and there, dropped singles. That stuff." He shrugs.

"But she went to a dance college or something? Why does she sing?" I keep asking like my life depended on it.

Pfft, what life?

"Dear boy, why did you used to sing? Why did you ever bother with music?" He retilates.

"Because..." I look at the wall he's leaning on blankly. "That's what I wanted to do."

"But what made you want it?" He presses. "Think before you answer."

What made me want to make music? Wasn't it because I enjoyed it?

I remember when I was fourteen, I had all these records of much admired artists that I fancied so much. I had imagined the stars gazing back at me as I sang. I had dreamed of being on stage. But as a musician, as a singer. As someone who wrote their own music. Why? How? I had all these emotions driving me off all these years, I didn't know how to get them out. Then I just somehow shaped them into a story, into something I could use as a song. Sex wasn't the only thing I sang about. Girls weren't always the main focus of my songs. I wrote about freedom. I wrote about reality, and how people really are. I wrote about stories I made up in my mind or real ones I've witnessed or heard about. I wrote to voice out my thoughts in a way no form of casual speech could. I sang with emotion. I sang to share all these things with the world. I sang to remember. I sang to forget. But most importantly, I sang to feel.

However, I also sang in hopes to find someone in the world who had the same feelings and view of the world as I did. I never did.

"Yes boy, there it is."

I look down at Daren, feeling as if I just been sucked back to earth. I catch myself making that face when I'm usually struck by something-which is rare.

"And that's why she sings too. And writes." He adds with a brow raised.

"But..." a frown settles again. "It can't be. Everyone has their own reasons for what they do."

"True. You're a smart person. Not everyone is the same. But if you truly think of it, whatever reason they lead on for pouring their emotions into lullabies, it's all for the same thing. They need someone. They need someone to understand them and share their mind with. Wasn't it that for you?" He raises a brow.

Oh he's good. Too good.

I walk back to the cemetery, having ditched the place for a month now. I go to my sanctuary and look at all the  now faded papers and photos hung up; as much as I keep telling myself I had been back tracked, I cannot deny the progress I made. I found names and faces I hadn't known before. I found places. Secrets. Documents. I could ruin all these people. But only one is my target, I don't care about the others. They'll get their karma.

"Jonathan! Get back here!"

My head snaps toward the noise, a few bushes start moving around and I immediately cover up. I lay low beside the table and pole, looking at where the movement is in the darkness between the trees.