One more chapter to go!
Big hugs to Aileen and Paige, my prereaders,
and to Di, my editor extraordinaire.


Blackbird

Chapter 12

. . . . .

On a windy day that blew the clouds above her away, Bella discovered her mother had moved out of the back house without a goodbye.

She left no letter, sent no email, not even a text.

After thinking about it, Bella had talked herself out of calling her mother and demanding she leave; she owed it to Renee to tell her in person. But she hadn't expected that—her mother's disappearing act. The sudden pain of it caused her to fall to her knees right there in the middle of her mother's empty living room, with the echo of the words "you're fired" playing in Bella's mind.

Although it hurt, she supposed it didn't come as a surprise. After all, it seemed exactly like something her overly dramatic mother would do.

Alice had a phrase for it.

"It's the Irish goodbye; she's ghosting you. Keeping you on her hook, leaving without saying anything like that."

Dr. Hale had yet another explanation.

"She's denying you closure, which is a way to keep you beholden to her. I suggest you write a letter to her, even if she never reads it, and take that control back."

For hours, Bella thought about what she could say to her mother. Her body was stiff and tense with repressed anger, and she had a headache from clenching her jaw. She took an aspirin, poured a glass of white wine, and took it outside by the pool. Not much of a drinker, she quickly learned the meaning of crying in a cup when she realized she was sobbing into her glass.

Finally, she decided she'd spent enough time obsessing over her mother. Finally, she reached the point of not wanting to bite back her hurt for fear of upsetting Renee. Finally, she wanted to scream with it.

Dear Mother,

Damn you for leaving the way you did, with all this anger between us—like a spoiled child who didn't get her way. You always got your way!

I didn't want our relationship to be strained like this, but like so many things, when you left like a coward without saying goodbye, you took that choice away from me.

But I won't let you anymore. I think you know it, too. If you don't, you will.

A big part of me can't believe you left the way you did, because you're still trying to control me. I don't forgive you for that.

I don't forgive you for always ignoring the way I hurt.

I don't forgive you for ignoring my loudest cry for help.

And until you say the words I'm sorry, I won't.

Bella

She took the letter into the house, tore it into tiny pieces, then dropped it into the metal trash can in the den. Striking a match, she lit the pieces on fire, watching until the last ember died.

And then, she mimed washing her hands.

. . .

Unfortunately, Ryan Tedder wasn't available to help Bella produce "Blackbird," so she tried an unknown at Alice's suggestion. In the few days she'd known Alice, she'd grown to trust her; Alice was proving, day-by-day, that she had Bella's interests firmly at the forefront.

Besides, Bella was all about giving young unknowns a chance. She wanted to work with and grow stronger with people her own age. An older, more experienced person didn't necessarily mean they knew better. Having been overtly controlled her entire life, Bella now wanted people who were going to show up for her. No more hiding, no more sucking it up, no more giving way to ideas or situations she didn't believe in. She was determined to be in control, to live her own truth.

It was something Alice always told her.

"Live your truth, girl."

Liam Stroh was tall, gangly, and blond, with a black cobra tattoo that ended on the side of his neck. The snake's forked tongue licked at the bottom of Liam's jaw, looking like it was actually moving when he was speaking. Bella was fascinated by it.

Liam wasn't a smiler, and he looked positively fearsome as a result, which put Bella off at first. Alice told her that while he looked like a perfect mess, he was actually a teddy bear with an unusual talent for melody and mixing.

"Have you heard that commercial for the dating website? Or the one about menstrual pads? Liam did the music for those."

Bella hadn't seen either, so Alice had her google them on her iPad.

The dating website's song was dreamy and spicy with quick, driven beats. Added to the happy couple's images who were obviously blissful with their matches, it made Bella long for Edward.

The menstrual pad commercial was light and whimsical, opposite in sound from the other ad, easily displaying Liam's diversity . . . he seemed to understand women pretty well, since he was able to come up with two completely different jingles that primarily targeted the female population.

Liking his style, and taking Alice at her word that Liam was just a mean-looking softy, it was only Bella and Liam in the black, acoustic walled control room at the back of Bella's house—just the two of them sitting at the imposing, six-foot-wide console that housed several different keyboards.

And Silent Dejaun, whom she often forgot; the Jamaican cameraman with shoulder-length dreads who followed her almost eight hours a day, because Alice said you never knew when a magical, shareable moment would happen. After Bella's initial hesitation about being trailed, and the fact that she could ask him to stop filming at any point, she was surprised at how easy it was to forget he was there. Which, she supposed, was the point.

Above the console where Bella and Liam worked was the huge window overlooking the soundproofed studio room. The window was dark since there was no one in there now, and it lent a sort of liberating intimacy to the process of hammering out a melody. They were able to stop and start again without anyone else's input or judgment.

Liam took a brief look at Nina Simone's words, then raised his hands to press a few keys on the keyboard.

"You want a different melody other than the one with the song?" he asked, and Bella nodded.

The sound he produced was rich, slow, and dark, almost the way Bella had imagined in her mind, and she bit her lip in excitement.

As he continued trying to build a catchy melody, Bella didn't hear why you wanna fly, Blackbird in her mind. Instead, she heard the words she'd written.

As I dive in without my wings
At the speed of light
I'm flying to my end

No matter how hard she tried to focus on the musical rearrangement of the Nina Simone song, it just didn't flow in her mind.

"Why you frowning, Bella?" Liam asked.

She sighed heavily. "I love what you're doing, but I'm not hearing Nina Simone's lyrics to it. Under the heaviness, I almost hear a lightness. I'm really liking it. But . . . I hear the words I've written to a different song. Can I show you?"

Liam straightened in his leather chair and spun to face her, scratching his chin. "You want to do a new song? You're the boss, Bella Ella."

Bella smiled slowly. No one had ever called her the boss before.

When she returned with her crumpled paper titled 'Blackbird' and smoothed it out in front of him, Liam hummed and the snake's tongue below his jaw vibrated.

"Sing the words for me?" he asked.

And so she sang the first sentence in a low register, slow and dark as she imagined it should be, since she was the dying phoenix falling to its end.

"Again," he said.

The next time she sang the words, he added a slight difference to the melody he'd been working on, drawing the notes out to match the way she drew out the words. They looked at each other and nodded as they both held on to the last note.

She continued with the next words, until she came to the part that she wanted to lighten.

"And here's where the phoenix rises," she said. "The bridge." She sang the lyrics in a higher voice, ending in a C6.

"I'm free at last
Free from you
Free from the past
Freedom at last
What was life
Other than a cage to me
Blackbird, oh blackbird"

Liam followed her with a lighter, faster melody, taking off in a gradual, louder climb of sound from the slower, dark tones. As the music bloomed, so did her lyrics. To her, it sounded like power lost being retaken. And it worked.

Lightly panting with excitement, she grinned at him, and saw an unmistakable light in his eyes that told her he was feeling the same magic.

"I don't want to record the Nina Simone song," she told him. "I want to record my version of 'Blackbird'."

Liam nodded. "This is one of those times when the melody takes on a life of its own. It doesn't happen often, so when it does, you gotta run with it."

"Let's run with it."

By the end of the second day, they had the full song.

Bella had Alice come down to the studio to listen to it.

As she listened to Liam's melody with her lyrics, as she listened to her song, Bella had an indescribable feeling of completeness. Of triumph. When she began writing the song, she'd been in pain, feeling trapped by her life. By the middle, she'd started climbing out of the hole, just beginning to discover who she was. And the end? She'd rewritten it a few days ago after writing the letter to her mother.

Her version of "Blackbird" was all about her journey to this moment, to her realization of what her life was and what it could be now. Looking at Alice's awed expression as she listened to the song only cemented it.

When the refrain came and the guitars and drums kicked in, and Bella's voice climbed in pitch, the three of them were nodding in unison with smiles splitting their faces.

"It's incredible," Alice told them afterward, and she had tears in her eyes. Seeing them made Bella tear up, too. And then they were hugging, jumping, and talking at once.

"It's the best song I've ever written," Bella said, uncaring that her cheeks were wet with tears.

"A number one hit," Alice cried with a jump. "It's going to be a number one hit!"

"Good enough to be a concert opener," Liam said. "No, maybe it should be a closer. It's the kind of song you want to leave your audience remembering."

"We've got to get this to Trey and the record label," Alice said excitedly. "They're going to shit, it's so good."

Bella couldn't wait for Trey to hear it. He was a mentor of sorts, who had dropped the ball when he introduced her to Kid Culprit, thinking they would collaborate well. What the hell had he been thinking? That she couldn't carry an album on her own?

She also couldn't wait to perform the song in front of a live audience. To share her journey, to share that power. Every hair on her body was standing on end; she felt positively electric.

Her wings were back, and they were stronger than ever.

She was flying.

. . .

"I want to go on TV and admit the truth of what I did," Bella told Alice a few days later. She was still riding on a high, and knew that she'd never be in a stronger or better position to tell such a personally painful truth.

Alice's eyes went round with fear. "Holy hell . . . what truth?" she whispered.

Bella sighed, giving her a look. "I think you know. The balcony fall? Officer Hero?"

Her heart panged at the memory of Edward. His appearance had marked a change in her life, when nothing had been the same—there was a before him, and an after him.

Oh, God, Edward.

"Bella," Alice breathed and shook her head. "There's no need–"

"There's every need." Bella was adamant. "My fans need to know that I'm human; I'm fallible. I come with flaws. They need to know I make mistakes, too, and that I'm growing from them. I could give a sense of hope to someone, Alice," she said, and took Alice's hands. "Just think. At this very moment, someone is considering suicide. What if what I say makes a difference? I have to try. I want to try."

Alice was still shaking her head. "I just don't see the benefit of doing this, Bella. You have a record coming out soon. You don't owe anyone explanations for what you do or don't do."

"I feel like I do," Bella whispered. "And maybe there isn't an upside for my career, but I'm willing to risk it. I'm willing to risk being real with my fans. If some of them don't get that, if they don't like it, then I'm okay with it. I just . . . feel like I need to do this."

Alice grabbed Bella's shoulders and gave her a little shake. "Why can't admitting it to me be enough?"

Bella shrugged and shook her head.

"What did your therapist say?" Alice asked.

"That it was up to me. He doesn't think I need to admit it to anyone, either, but it's just something I feel like I need to do."

"You keep saying that," Alice said, and squeezed her eyes shut, but they were positively fierce when she opened them again. "There's absolutely nothing I can do or say to change your mind?"

"No. But, if you could support my decision, Alice, that would be great. Please, be on my side," Bella implored.

"I am on your side," Alice insisted. "All right. Shit balls. All right. I wish we could get Oprah for this." There was an emotional strain in her voice.

"I want the local ABC reporter," Bella told her. "The one that never believed the stories in the first place? I'd like to go toe-to-toe with him."

"Gene somebody or other," Alice said. "That guy? Bella, please tell me you know what you're doing, because it sounds suspiciously like you're trying to punish yourself."

Bella realized it wasn't something she could make anyone else understand. How did you explain a gut feeling? "It's not that at all. This isn't a punishment; it's a baptism of sorts."

"You won't be standing in the waters of the Jordan River," Alice snapped worriedly. "And, I'm sure you'll be replayed on national TV ad nauseam."

"Please, Alice."

Alice threw up an arm. "Fine, I'll set it up. But if that reporter starts acting up or disrespecting you, there's no telling what I might do."

"I'm sure he'll be respectful, considering the topic."

Alice didn't seem to agree. "As long as he behaves himself, I'll do the same," she growled. "Otherwise, all deals are off."

Bella smiled at her frowning, energetic manager, who'd become a good friend in such a short amount of time.

"It's a deal."

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Alice whispered, making the sign of the cross.

Bella was terrified. She was excited. But more than that, she was at peace with her decision. The feeling filled her and held her close. Admitting that she'd tried to commit suicide, admitting that she was getting help, felt like the right thing to do. The only thing to do.

It didn't have to be a messy declaration, just an honest one.

. . .

And honest she was. "I was on that balcony . . . ready to let go," she said, and her speech was smooth and sure, her face open, honest, and calm. Bella told it like it was; she shared her heart and soul and fears as herself and as Isa. When she was done, she knew she'd made the right decision.

Admitting her suicide attempt propelled Bella into the stratosphere; she was the topic of almost every conversation the next day.

She'd been tense the afternoon she met Gene Scott, the reporter, but he'd quickly put her at ease when he told her all he wanted was to listen.

"I'm sorry for judging you unfairly before. That's not going to happen this time," he said. "All I want is to share what you want to say."

He'd been true to his word, and as a result, she'd left their interview feeling empowered.

Bella and Alice set up camp on Bella's couch the following day. With light blankets wrapped around their shoulders and holding cups of chamomile tea, they listened to the fallout. Alice was fearful and white-faced, while Bella was calm, determined to accept whatever repercussions she had to face.

People were either aghast that they'd been lied to in the first place, or shocked and humbled by her decision to share. Bella's social media blew up with thousands of people sharing their own stories about suicide, about either having lost a loved one, or having attempted it themselves. Some of them weren't so polite; some of them told her she should have succeeded, but Bella wasn't unduly bothered by those comments when she considered the source. Hatred usually hurt the hater more than the hatee.

Gene Scott, the reporter she'd broken the story to, was quoted on several websites: 'Isa Swan should be commended, not disparaged, for bravely admitting her suicide attempt and her decision to seek help.'

Several others asked where Isa Swan's trusted advisors were, and what they had been thinking when they allowed such a topic to be aired. Bella had hugged Alice close, whispering her apologies with an angry heart; she hated Alice being called out by what she'd done and said.

People also wondered about Isa Swan's relationship with Officer Cullen, noting they hadn't been seen out together recently. Had their relationship just been a publicity stunt to keep Officer Cullen silent about the suicide attempt? What was the city's trusted law enforcement coming to if they couldn't be trusted?

Edward had been against keeping her attempt under wraps from the beginning, and for him to be implicated now was a dart that landed squarely in Bella's heart. It was the only thing said that had made her cry, although her tears stemmed from fury, and the fact that she'd been naive in thinking only she would be the one paying the toll for her actions.

Trey, at first furious at Bella's admission, changed his tune, as the general consensus eventually climbed in Bella's favor. When Conan O'Brien tried to make a joke about her on his talk show, the audience booed him so heavily that he was forced to apologize

It was a long few days for Bella, filled with tension, pain, and regret that her admission hurt innocent bystanders.

Even so, she didn't regret coming clean about what happened. Bella was crystal-clear about who she was now, which was not a perfect looking popstar. She'd deliberately blown that image to smithereens.

She hoped she'd be seen as a survivor. Someone real. Since she'd been discounted so often, Bella also hoped she'd be someone who would be listened to now. She wasn't just some empty-headed doll, and she was going to continue proving it any way she could.

She was living her truth.

Part of her wondered what her mother thought as she tore apart that poster girl Renee had tried so hard to mold. Did Renee feel as if her life was a failure? Bella couldn't help feeling a bit sad at that thought, as it would certainly give her mother a taste of what Bella had once felt.

And she couldn't help wondering what Edward was thinking. Surely, he'd heard the story of her admission by now. How was he coping with the news? She fervently hoped the paparazzi wasn't hounding him.

Please, she prayed, don't let him have to pay the price again for saving me.

Did he ever think about her?

As the days passed without him, Bella feared she'd been scrubbed clean from his heart. Did he forget what they had together?

Maybe his life was too neat and orderly, too perfect for someone like her, who came with so many mistakes and lies. Was it just a lie he'd made her feel otherwise?

But how could she regret it? That beautiful lie had given her enough hope until she could find it in herself. No matter what else happened, Edward had given her a reason to dream, to live, to want to embrace life.

Now that she was stronger, now that she had admitted her messy mistake and still come out on the other side a success, it seemed like the worst kind of punishment that he wasn't here to see the real her—as she was now.

Although he'd let her go, he hadn't let her go when it mattered most. He'd saved her when he'd seen into her damaged soul, when she felt she'd been down to her last chance. He hadn't let her fall, but she'd fallen anyway. Fallen for him so hard that if anyone looked closely enough, they'd find the crack in her heart. A crack with Edward's name on it.

For now, maybe for a long time, his absence was an ache that wouldn't go away. And that was okay.

It was.

He was worth the pain.

Immersing herself in it, she began writing again.

. . .

There were a lot of tears I had to cry through
A lot of battles left me battered and bruised
And I was shattered, had my heart ripped in two
I was broken, I was broken
There were a lot of times I stumbled and crashed
When I was on the edge, down to my last chance
So many times when I was so convinced that
I was over, I was over
But I had to fall, yeah
To rise above it all

. . .

Note: Bella's song, called 'Grateful,' was written by Diane Eve Warren.