Beat and Sorrow

The sound of screams echoed around the arena drowning out the linger of her vocals, which resonated from the speakers connected to her microphone. Even with the fullness of the surround sound she could barely hear herself think from the deafening roar of fans singing along to the lyrics she herself had written, the sounds sinking away as the song came to an end only to shift into a soft adagio of notes that began her next number.

Stepping up to the microphone stand she slid the base of the mic into place wrapping her fingers about the handle as she leaned in to breathe softly against the machine. "Thank you everyone for coming out tonight! For this last song, we're going to slow it down some. You guys are the greatest fans a girl could dream of having, all of this is thanks to you! Don't ever forget that."

The sad smile that played across her face couldn't be seen because as the camera had shifted on her features she curled the corner of her lips upwards replacing her sorrow with a facade of happiness. Tightening her fingers around the hilt of the microphone she sighed, counting the beats in her head until the soft intro came to a finale and her words spilled from her lips.

There's this pain I feel.. deep down in my soul.. a tearing rift.. drawn from way below.. Your absence hit me like a fix... dragging me down the river of styx...

She sang her lyrics precisely, conveying the pain she felt for all the loss that had consumed her over the years, fighting back her own tears when the song neared its end.

If I had only realized how soon you'd be gone.. I would have just made my way back home..

Fighting her emotion she raised her hand skyward waving her fingers to the crowd. "I love you all! Don't forget that tomorrow isn't promised! See you next trip!" Smoke poured around her feet as the stage beneath her lowered taking her down to the hallway beneath the concert arena, the lingering clouds of fog causing her to cough and shake her head.

Over the years she had loved the showmanship of her concerts. The blinding lights, the smoke, the lasers, the foam and bubbles, everything was new and exciting but now she had grown to resent it. So much of her performances now were all flashing lights and stunts that made her look cool, none of the focus seemed to be on her lyrics any longer, and the one thing that she had always put her full effort into.

"Hey good show out there, that fire dancing really brought out the energy of the crowd." Her manager Gian came up behind her clapping a hand over her shoulder, the band trailing along at his heels like lost puppies.

"Yeah, it was fun. If you don't mind my head is pounding from all the smoke so I think I am going to go chill out in the dressing room for an hour. I really think we need to change the brand of fog we use.." Giving her best smile she glanced at Gian's face noting the frown curling at the corner of his lips. She knew he knew the headache wasn't what was bothering her, but she knew he'd relent nonetheless.

"Yeah, okay. I'll get right on that Bryn." Pulling out his phone the man shrugged at the band and turned his back to walk towards his own suite in the arena giving Brynhild a moment to escape to her freedom.

Hurrying down the hall she pushed her way into the silent dressing room, not bothering to turn on the light as she made her way across the area to the large mirror within the center of the vanity. Her makeup was smeared across her face, her hair tousled and pushed around as though she had been headbanging far too hard. She looked like a bloody fucking mess, to put it lightly. Even with the hum of music still bouncing off her skin, a feeling that once delighted her, all that was shown in her eyes was sadness.

Nothing felt good any longer. Everything she did, every song she sang, and each act she performed on stage was as though she was simply weighing herself down. A feeling that only got more heavy every time she stepped out into the arena.

With her hands against the vanity surface, she glanced upwards meeting the person in the mirror she barely knew.

Thirteen-year-old Bryn would have never left her family to tour the world, she would never have sent a fruit basket to the hospital and had her assistant deliver it personally because she had a show that night. Hell, not even sixteen-year-old Bryn would have ignored the signs of her mother's sickness and missed her funeral because her manager said, "What are you crazy this is a sold-out arena".

Staring at herself, at her reflection, at the tears welling up against the lower lid of her emerald gaze her breath hitched fighting back the sob that dared to tear through her chest and escape outward.

She had fought her way to the top, broke her back promoting, spent her last dime to make a recording, going through agent after agent until Gian came along. Every step of her path from being no one to becoming what she was now had been a battle.

Her mother had laughed and said her dreams of being a rockstar were silly, that people from their small town never got out. A statement that she apologized for the first time she was flown out to one of the packed arenas.

"Bryn, I was wrong. You took your dream and soared beyond anything even I could imagine. I'm so proud of you."

Her mother's words broke her, that sorrow pouring outwards into deep breaths broken by tearful sobs. Her mother had done everything for her, everything imaginable when she was sure her dream was not going to be tossed aside, and she couldn't even make an appearance at her funeral.

Remembering the phone call she shook her head. "Bryn, I'm sick.. they.. say it is bad. Please come home."

She didn't even go, though her mother begged. She had told her to stop being silly, she was going to be fine. Three days later, it wasn't fine. She hadn't gotten the chance to say goodbye, hadn't got to even be there, and then couldn't even be bothered to make it to the funeral. Her mother had to hate her, she hated herself.

Lifting her head she turned and looked around at the legacy she had amassed, but everything seemed dull in comparison to what it once was. The life she built, the fans, what purpose did they even hold anymore to her. The battle she fought got her where she wanted to be, but at what cost? Her family resented her, her mother was dead, and her brother acted as though she never existed. She had lost everything to stay on top, to be the best, and now, all she wanted was to go home.

Glancing at the vanity she sighed grabbing the small notepad and pen from the drawer, a soft scribbled I'm Done written upon the sheet and signed, left there for whoever to discover when they came to look for her.

Walking to the door she gave one final glance about before wrapping her fingers around the neck of her acoustic guitar which sat by the door. She was surprised it had taken this long to walk away, but it didn't matter now. She had gained everything and lost everything all in one lifetime, and there was nothing more left for her in the limelight.