Page 82 of Lost Lyrebird

Cool air hits my skin, but I don’t feel relief.Only anger.I’m raging at Finn, at myself, at everything I didn’t see and everything I built up in my head that has caused me pain and heartache for so long.

A battle I’ve waged inside my own mind for too many years, when the ugly truth was right there for me to discover.I hid from it, and wallowed in this misery, for what?To discover it was all a lie this whole time?

I pour everything inside me into the dance.Near the end, I walk off the stage, through the customers, and to the bar.The pulsing red light follows and spreads outward to envelope the crowd in stages, a victim count growing, a bleeding wound.My body feels like lead, weighed down by what I’ve learned and what I suspect.

My thoughts are riotous and chaotic, as I pull myself on top of the bar.For a few counts, I let the rhythm guide my movements as I stand and dance on top of it.Then I drop to my knees and slowly rock as the song winds down.I unpin the fedora and my bun.I toss the hat and let my long hair spill out around me.It’s a relief and freeing.

The audience is going nuts, but I barely hear them.

Finn calls my name.No, Goose, because I don’t know this man, and he definitely isn’t who I thought he was.I tell myself this is the very last time I’ll refer to him as the man I once thought I knew.

What a gullible fucking girl I was.

I wonder if that’s what he told his buddies when he told them about me.Or did he even care enough to mention me at all?Is that why no one ever got word to me about his condition?Had he even mentioned me to them, or was I just some sad girl he saved?A dirty secret he kept buried?

Makes sense since no one had known who the fuck I was when I went around asking about him.I remember how pathetic I felt.How pathetic I looked.They treated me like some poor little girl who just got played, and was too stupid to realize it.

The recruiter’s expression that day got burned into my memory, and still, when I think about it, it has my chest pinching with pain.

Without hesitation, I tear the mask from my face and drop it at his feet.It’s always been hard to see clearly through the masks, through the lies, but here’s his chance.

Then I reach behind the bar and snatch a three-quarters full bottle of whiskey.Bending backwards, I recline my body on the bar and tilt my head back, enough to meet his enraged stare.The chorus hits one last time, and each ending word feels profound.

You lying fucking bastard and your policy of truth.

Goose’s dark eyes are nearly black.He growls and motions for me to “Get off the goddamn bar” and come to him.His hand is up, reaching for me.I wiggle the bottle as I raise it above me.

I feel broken, vulnerable, but at least it’s real.I’m not hiding anymore.My true self has come out to play and show him who he’s dealing with.

As I begin tipping the liquor bottle, he shouts my name.

But I pay it no mind as I upend the bottle and bathe in liquid as it spills down my frame.

The music comes to an abrupt end.For a long moment, I stay there, head tilted toward the ceiling, sucking in oxygen, filling my lungs.They expand and constrict, and it feels like for the first fucking time in my life, I can truly breathe without a weight hindering me.

When I eventually sit up, I spin and extend the bottle to Goose.Before his hand can close around it, I drop it.He doesn’t catch it in time, and it shatters at his feet.

While he gapes at the mess, I take a client’s offered hand and dismount gracefully from the bar.

I completely ignore the man shouting after me as I walk the fuck away, and I make a point to smear my eyeliner and lipstick down my face as I stride back toward the stage.Because I don’t fucking care anymore.And I don’t need to hide my truths from myself anymore.

I grab my cane on my way back, and in one final gesture, I collapse into the throne with legs crossed.The crowd is going insane, so I place my hand over my lips in a shushing gesture.

When they grant me the silence this moment deserves, I drop the cane on the floor and let it clatter with finality.And I swear to God, you can hear it echoing off the walls until the audience erupts.

For a long moment, I just breathe, in for three, hold for three, out for three.In.Hold.Out.And I let it all go.Let go of him and this idea of him that I planted in my head and have held on to.I let go of the childhood fantasy story I had of us that I’ve been subconsciously clinging to for way too long, and tell myself that version of us never truly existed.

From here forward, I’ll view Goose with open eyes and from every angle before letting him ever take another small piece of my heart.He’s a flawed man who’s not my savior, and never was.

I walk off the stage, my back straight, head held high, my heart pounding, but finally free.

CHAPTER 23

Emotions can be tricky and deceiving when heightened or buried for too long.

The minute I sit down at my vanity and catch my reflection in the mirror, regret slams into me.Everything I just did plays on a loop, each moment a reminder of how I let my emotions take complete control and let myself unravel.

“Oh, God.”I press my palms into my face.It does nothing to stop the panic from rising in my chest.I royally fucked this up.Let the old pain run wild, unchecked.