Page 104 of Vengeful Melodies

Kaiser’s hand tightens on the neck of his bass, jaw flexed like he’s holding back a scream.

Bash doesn’t look up from the fretboard, fingers twitching like he’s bracing to break.

Alix spins a drumstick once, twice, then sets it down and just breathes.

Me?

The mic is heavy in my hand.

I don’t wait for permission. I don’t need it.

I start to sing.

The first notes fall like blood on concrete—my voice breaking open in the dark, trembling, raw. Alix ghosts his sticks across the snare behind me, heartbeat-soft, faltering. The guitars hum low, strings bending like ribs ready to crack.

And I bleed out on this stage, with my band bleeding beside me—for the woman who is the reason we’re still standing at all.

My throat strains, but I let it.

"I’ve burned in silence just to keep you warm,

Carved my ribs open—built you shelter from the storm.

You never had to ask me to stay,

I was already drowning in your name."

The words scrape their way out like confession meant for the dead.

My eyes find her through the lights—front of the crowd, hood up, eyes wide. But she isn’t hiding anymore.

Kaiser steps in, voice fragile, sharp as glass. His fingers tremble across the strings, harmony rising to meet mine.

"You said love was poisonous, and I drank it anyway.

Told me you were broken—I knelt and kissed each blade.

Every scar you buried, I kept like prayer,

Every lie you believed, I breathed like air."

The spotlight flares across his face, catching the tears glinting in his eyes. He grips the mic stand like it’s the only thing anchoring him to the stage.

The crowd doesn’t cheer. They don’t even breathe.

And then Bash’s voice cuts in—rough, aching, carved out of his chest. His bass growls beneath him, vibrating the floor, carrying the weight of his vow.

"I laughed with you through all your nightmares,

Kissed your ghosts while they slept beside you.

If the world turns on you—I won’t,

If it kills me—I won’t."

The words land like a promise sealed in blood. The silence from the audience swells heavier than their screams ever could.

Alix shifts then—sticks tapping steady, like a faltering pulse trying to hold on. His voice slips through the smoke, low, hollow, like something already dead.