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I guess I was a bit too much of everything that was wrong. Though I was fine with not liking me. After all, I wanted to be better. I guess I thought that if I worked hard enough, was pretty enough for everyone to accept me, then I'd be happy. But I wasn't happy - and I blamed no-one but myself.

I was deep down when she found me letting myself go in some disgusting public bathroom. She held my hair & kept me company as I cleaned myself up. I didn't want it. She didn't care.

"You deserve better", she said. I scoffed. "I'll be better when I deserve better. I'm not there yet." "You'll never be." It came as a slap to the face, and it took me a moment before I could look her in the eye. Finally I did. She was the punk-rock type, distressed & mis-matched clothing, black eyes, and metal piercing her skin all over. Tattoos, too. I'd never seen a woman with tattoos before.

She looked annoyed. Less with me and more on my behalf I'd say, based on what she said next. "C'mon," she pushed away from the sink, "let's go AWOL." It was a ridiculous suggestion. "I can't," I said, popping a mint into my mouth, "I've got an appointment." "All the more reason to go." It came out sounding like a command. I didn't like being told what to do, but then again it's all I'd ever known. She had such a presence. Somehow it was easy to buckle - and I did.

I'd never seen a studio quite like this one. It could've used a fresh coat of paint, if nothing else - though anything else would certainly have helped. I stood small just inside the door looking at all the scribbles on the walls. Names. Dates. Dicks. So unnecessary.

My thoughts were interrupted by a high, screechy noise. My pseudo-kidnapper had plugged in her guitar, and now she was working her way across the strings. Tuning, I suppose? I wouldn't know. Everything was always ready when I came on stage. I'd never actually mingled with the musicians - just the other girls in my group, and my manager. For someone who had worked in entertainment since I was a child I had a very limited idea of how everything worked.

A glance & a smirk that spelt out watch this shot my way as she started strumming for all she was worth. It was loud and heavy, nothing like my upbeat pop tunes. I was shocked. Frozen. Suddenly it was as if something reached inside my chest, grabbed a hold of something and yanked, forcefully. I fell in, desperately trying to subdue my uneven breath. Still I knew, even then - seconds in - that I would never be the same again.

She slid her hand down the guitar before the sound came to a dead stop. Then she looked up at me. "What'cha think?" she smiled. My thoughts were scrambled; I didn't know what to think. She laughed. I felt a strange mix of offence & relief. It didn't last long.

"Hey, you sing, right?" "Yes?" "Here!" Punk threw over a microphone that I barely had time to catch, then plugged it in on her end. "Soundcheck?" I had no reason to comply, yet I did so without hesitation. I could barely believe it when the guitar came back in to back up my voice.

"Alright Princess, show us what'cha got!"

Turns out I had more in me than I ever would've thought.

I looked over at Masshiro noodling across the fretboard. It was our first show as a unit, yet she didn't seem even remotely concerned. I admired her for that. Meanwhile all my years of putting on shows seemed to have vanished into thin air. I looked down at my lap. My knee was bouncing beneath my bass. I was forgetting to breathe every other minute. Why had it suddenly become so difficult?

"Hey, you good?" Sometime during my mental downtime Masshiro had looked up from her playing to check on me. "Yes, fine," I half-lied. It didn't slip past her, but it didn't really matter. "It'll be fine once we're out there," she said softly, eyes falling back down to what she was doing. "Mm, I know," I sighed. She smiled. Somehow her confidence rubbed off on me, and my leg slowed down to a gentle halt. Deep breath. It'll be fine once we're out there. It'll be fine. We'll be fine. Together. I'm a part of something new now. And unlike before, I can rely on them. I have to believe that. I have to. And I will.

"Alright, time to rumble!" Akane was a bomb as always. Our drummer, Meari, stood like a goth valkyrie behind her, effortlessly twirling a drumstick between her fingers. Masshiro got up with a stretch, before wandering over towards the others. Just as she passed me she stopped, and dropped her hand down in front of me. "You ready?" she asked. "Sure." I had to be. The guitarist took my hand & pulled me to my feet. "Then let's go." I looked at her, then at the other two waiting in the doorway. This was it. This was my new life...

"After you."

..and I was going to make it work.

...