Song to listen to : Arthur James - Impossible

Prologue:

There is the crowds' cheering. A rowdy noise from the gathered drunks and party gals. I breathe ande try to find my happy place as I usually do.

But the gaping absence of Raquel is loud and unnerving at my back. Yet, I continue breathing until I have myself convinced I'll be okay.

For a moment all is dark and silent and then the spots, with a whir of electricity working - blind my face.

I blink for an instant, my long hair braided to the back of my head. I look everything a singer should be looking like, and today is a special day.

The mayor of Birmingham is here, the room filled to the brim. But then I spot something that makes my face turn cold.

My eyes cross blue immediately and I swallow forcibly. The Shelby's are here, and they're all staring at me. Michael in unadultered anger, Arthur with a glare, Tommy's face even pulled into an angry frown. But I don't look at them, I look at him, his eyes.

Oh God, his eyes.

Performing has always been a way to calm myself ever since me, a modern singer from 2019 London, was thrown to time and found herself in 20s Birmingham.

But the thrill I feel when I get to sing has long since left to replace with cold fear.

He sits next to Ada but his face is angry, bitter. His face is red, his jaw jumping, clenched teeth as he grips onto the table tighly.

He looks at me with such rage, my John Shelby, such anger and such dissapointment I'm thrown back to our fight and his words.

-" You're nothing. Nothing but stuck up bitch who spreads her leg for the first famous guy that comes by. Raquel is the same!"

-" Don't you dare insult Raquel! And don't insult me, you're the only bloody men I have ever slept with, you idiot!"

- " What did you call me, you bloody fuckin' bitch?!"

My heart thuds painfully in my chest and I feel like i can't breathe anymore. My own jaw jumps and I feel tears rising unbidding in my eyes.

I stand before the microphone, and then my brows draw together. I try to swallow but it won't stay down. Then a pathetic hiccup/gasp leaves my mouth, loud in the microphone standing before me.

My shoulders start shaking as loud and ugly sobs start to fall from my throat, loud and undignified in the gathered silence.

Tears roll down my face as my hand comes up to to stifle the sounds coming from my mouth. But it keeps coming and I'm crying and it continues and it continues. I step back on uneasy feet and shake my head, looking through tear blurred eyes over the crowd and then stepping back.

It's still silent as I step back before I look up once more. John is seated, nose flared, jaw clenched, eyes angry and suspiciously wet. He has broken the wood of his chair, splinters in his hand.

The crowd is still silent as I walk down the stage and behind the curtain that shields backstage from the gathered crowd, not taking note of the screaming owner.

- " Get up there, now! And sing, you bitch!"

-" NO!" I scream and then push him and throw off my shoes and the tiara from my head before I push through the backdoor. The nights in Birmingham are cold and my stockings are already becoming filthy.

Yet I stop in the middle of the muddy ground and look up, breathing hard. Alive, I'm alive, I'm fine..

Then when do I feel as if I am ruined never to love again?

I take a moment, so full of emotions that I can't breathe. Then there is Harrison, old man Harrison, patting my back. -" Are you okay? You don't have to sing if.." I take a moment and shake my head.

I have to make this right. And I know just what to tell..Through a song...And hopefully it will tell everything I have to say to John.

My John Shelby.