Chapter Fifteen

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Chapter Fifteen

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Chapter Fifteen

The building feels like a giant monster looming over me. Just another building made from metal, brick, glass and a sturdy structure. Red Match Recording studio is just another building on the side of the street that serves a sense of purpose, not fear.

There is no worry as I walk towards the building, I guess there should be considering everything that's happened with the online article. However, this building doesn't have a Jason roaming around inside. Worse, it's got rumours and lies. These don't scare me, well, not at the moment.

It's been weeks since the news article and video went viral online. Since then, it's been translated into more articles and blog posts with more rumours and crazy accusations. I don't know what's worse – the original lie or the ones following. People have reported accounts of me on the street abusing them, or acting wild. I haven't left my house much since the incident. I'm afraid. I sit and watch the catastrophe grow into an ugly mess.

The last couple of days have been hard. Record labels request to speak with me, just so they can gain publicity over my appearance at their record label, perhaps a fan bump when they reject me. I think some people relish in the power they hold of people – some sick sense of self-worth.

I wanted to give up. Nobody cares about me, nobody knows me. Kol forced me to keep going . . . not for his please, not to prove anything, but perhaps to continue the dream for me. He stood tall, like a pillar holding the roof above my head, stopping the world from crushing me whole.

And then I got the email from Red Match Recordings. I'd submitted my demo and asked for an interview. They are a great recording studio, I couldn't see what they'd have to gain from me – bad or good publicity.

So, I accepted. Like a bull and a red flag, I charged forwards with belief, a little of my own somewhere inside of me.

But hey, here goes nothing.

Opening the door to the record label, I walk towards the reception desk with a smile on my face. There's a middle-aged woman sat behind the desk, her brown hair twirled into a tight bun.

"Hi, I'm Lola."

"Ah, Lola." She smiles. "Mr. Turner will be free in just a moment. Please, take a seat." The woman gestures towards the lounge setting behind me.

"Thank you." I nod my head and smile.

Without hesitation, I take a seat on the plush black leather couch and wait. The leather is cold against my skin, but I stick it out. I watch the large clock on the far wall as I patiently wait. The time trickles by slowly until a door beside the clock opens and an older man walks out.

His stride is long, so it only takes a couple of steps until he's standing in front of me. Mr. Turner is built tall and with wide shoulders. His nose is slightly in the air, which immediately gives me a snobbish vibe that sends me shivering. However, I notice his soft brown eyes and wrinkled features that give him a professional appearance.

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