Chapter 1

The blasting sound of the phone woke him up from his restless sleep. He groaned and rolled over. He had a hunch about who was calling him so early in the morning and he dreaded it already. He sat up in his bed with the phone still screaming on the side table, contemplating what to do. The faint ache in his back and neck reminded him of that fateful day as if he could ever escape those memories. Instead of picking up his phone as he probably should have, he opted to look out of the bedroom window instead. All he could see were some other sky-high buildings and clouds from the luxury condo which was on the 41st floor of the prestigious building in the middle of NYC.

There was a time when he loved the height, the adrenaline of being at the top, the victory of standing undefeated and unbeaten, above everyone else. It was until he came tumbling down, falling from the sky, and never rising again. The “Gray Valor”, the victorious superstar, the devilish hero who crushed his competition with harsh words and facts. It was until he crushed something of his own, someone he held so dearly to himself, someone who was his only real family. In the world, where everyone saw him for what he did on stage or in front of the camera, she saw him for who he was, behind this façade, the real Grayson. She saw through him even when he held her at arm’s length. She didn’t see the 22-year-old cold rapper who swore more than he said, but the 16-year-old scrawny kid, beaten at the hands of fate and still trying to make it big in the world.

Grayson did make it big. After working his ass off for 6 years, he was the best rapper in the country. Everyone wanted a piece of him, the hot-shot rapper, with shadows of nonchalance over his handsome face. The façade was crucially important for a rapper’s image. They should be rude, bitchy, and extremely arrogant. That’s who he was, that’s whom he became after being in the industry for more than half a decade. And people loved him, or people loved how unapproachable he seemed, how he looked like a king and everyone wanted him. On stage or in their bed, it didn’t matter. They bragged about him, how they got a piece of him and maybe they did get a piece of him. The rotting piece, the piece which made him the devil until her.

She came into his life like a blast of cold air and as quickly as she came, she left him, taking the piece of him which was the only human one he had. Now, all he had were decomposing pieces of his rotten personality and two broken wings.

His thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing again. He picked up his phone to see who it was. It was Aria, one of his two managers. He groaned but he knew that he couldn’t avoid her anymore. She was stubborn if nothing else. He was dreading the moment he hit the answer button and had already kept his phone away from his ear and he was right.

“WHERE ARE YOU? WE HAVE AN EVENT IN LITERALLY 15 MINUTES. COME HERE RIGHT NOW!" She cut the call before he even had a chance to speak. It’s strange how almost all the superstars were terrified of their managers, except him. Aria must have sensed what she did that’s why she quickly ended the call. He was like a ticking bomb, and everyone was scared of him, even himself. He sighed again and the pinching pain in his neck got a little worse. He massaged his neck for a moment and then got up. Even though he didn’t want to go, he knew he had to. It was the life he chose. There was no escape from the blinding lights and the flashes of the camera. He took a look at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and saw the proof of that incident, the one he was trying so hard to run away from. The scar going down from under his left eye to his neck taunted him. He shook off his thoughts and quickly took a shower.

By the time, he reached the venue 45 minutes later, the place resembled chaos. Everyone was running around, getting the cameras ready. Hands were pushing his hoodie off his head and slapping makeup on his face, some spraying his hair with the awful-smelling hair spray and styling them before he even had the chance to sit down. He looked up and saw his two managers, Aria and James running toward him with constipated looks on their faces. It was clear that they wanted to say something but one piercing look from him told them that it probably wasn’t a good idea so they kept their mouths shut. He swore he saw smoke coming out of their ears. It gave him some weird satisfaction.

Aria went to check something on the set while James sat in the chair next to him. The girl who was doing his makeup and not so subtly checking him out was a pretty blonde, with blue eyes. She was touching him more than she was doing the makeup but he didn’t mind. This is who he was, a pretty showpiece. Everyone wanted to touch, caress, and let him keep them for a few hours. This was his reputation, the image which sold out.

He often indulged in these desires, letting himself loose in their fantasies. So that maybe, he could forget. Forget that he was a fuck up, a failure. These people who desired him, made him feel like he might still have something left in him, no matter how ugly it was. But he knew that in the end, all he felt was emptiness more than before and his soul getting darker.

“You have such a sexy scar”, the blonde finally spoke to him.

He heard James scoffing next to him. He also heard a voice telling him how sad his eyes were even when he had a cold face. It shook him to the core; even when he heard it every single time. Her voice taunted him, haunting him wherever he went, whatever he did. He tried to run away from her, as far as he could but she was still there, etched in his brain, pierced in his dark soul. Her laughter made his ears bleed and her gaze pinned him to one spot. James cleared his throat and he realized that he was frozen. He subtly shook his head to get rid of her but in vain.

“It’s time”, Aria came in and James got up to escort him outside. He not-so-subtly touched the blonde’s arm on his way out. The touch held a promise that he would meet her later, maybe in this makeup room or the stage bathrooms, who cared? She would get what she wanted, and he would find a few moments away from her memories.

After the photoshoot ended, he excused himself from James and Aria and made his way toward the blonde who had her eyes on him for the whole photoshoot. James had a knowing look on his face and Aria shook her head in disappointment, but he ignored the two and went to the makeup room with the blonde not so far behind.

Two hours later, he was in his car on his way home with his managers eating his brains out with the plans for the next photo shoot. He didn’t know how and when he turned from a full-time rapper to a part-time rapper and full-time model. It was after his accident when his scar healed and started looking “sexy”. No one gave a fuck about how he got it, all they cared about was how hot it looked. His rapping career was going great, despite his hating it more than anything now. At 25 years old, he was still on top, from what people saw but he knew how beneath the earth he truly was.

“We have this really big shoot coming up. I said yes to it. I hope you won’t mind”, Aria started saying. He looked at her briefly and realized that she looked almost scared. “Why are you asking me?”, he questioned, confused as to why she suddenly started caring about his choice. He raised his eyebrow when she still hadn’t replied. She cleared her throat before talking again and he wished she hadn’t.

“.... and for that they want you shirtless”, she finished saying and he only heard the last part. He was fuming.

“No”, he immediately declined. James tried to interfere when he held up his hand which meant that the discussion was over. Aria didn’t back down and tried again.

“I have already said yes. Why is this even an issue? They already love the scar on your face. I am sure they will love the ones on your body. I mean everyone likes an imperfect, traumatized hero”, she giggled a little while talking and he felt bile rise in his throat. These were the people he was surrounded by, with ugly ass souls; the worst part is that he had become one of them. He looked at James who nodded and whispered something to Aria. Just like that, the matter was dropped and the arrangements were made. The brand didn’t want to drop him so instead, it dropped its “no shirt” demand. His head was still spinning and he felt the pain in his neck and back worsen. He was grateful to see his apartment building. James and a bodyguard escorted him inside. James said his goodbyes with promises of meeting up two days later to discuss the next photo shoot.

After eating yesterday’s leftovers, he took a quick shower and went to the piano room. He sat down and ran his hands on the chords, suddenly closing his eyes to the feeling of a fleeting touch of her fingers above his, the whispers of her voice in his ears, and the subtle weight of her presence around his shoulders and on his back. It was weird considering she never had seen this room or been in it; she had never even touched his fingers while I played piano before. She had only watched him, fondly from the couch of his old apartment while he played piano sometimes. He had gotten rid of his old piano with everything else in his previous apartment but her presence lingered everywhere, even in places she had never been at. She was everywhere, even in his new house. His scars were cruel reminders of the fact that she once existed. Her memories were like a constant weight on his shoulders that he couldn’t shake off.

Before he went to bed, he held her necklace in his hand, the initials “R and I” taunting me. It was a necklace she wore all the time, except when she was working. She gave it to him before she left. To hold onto it, maybe to give him some hope but all he wanted to do was to give it to the rightful owner. He didn’t deserve this, to hold something so precious and pure in his dirtied, bloodied hands. It didn’t matter that he held it close to his chest before falling asleep every night. It didn’t matter that he held it tight in his fingers every time, he had a panic attack and felt like he was dying. It didn’t matter; nothing mattered except that night.

He held the necklace close to his chest for a few moments and put it on the table later; turning around to sleep when his phone pinged with a message. He saw his best friend Ryan’s name pop up. He immediately sat up and opened the message. The three words drained the color from his face.

'We found her.'