Chapter 1
Emryn
The magazine that slipped from Emryn Ashford’s fingers hit the folding table with a slap that felt louder than it should’ve.
Emryn: Breakout artist. Bi-Con Headliner. 11 Million Streams. What’s Next?
She stared at the glossy page, her own face beaming back at her. A polished, perfect, unrecognizable version of herself printed on the cover. The headline felt more of a headstone than a career announcement.
Someone had to have brought this on purpose. It felt like a punishment. Proof that no matter how far she ran, the spotlight still found her even in this miserable little community.
She couldn’t read one more line. Couldn’t stand the idea of reading it in front of the people gathered in this small room. She didn’t need to read it. Emryn knew exactly what it said, as what most of the other articles said too.
With over 11 million streams, her 2023 headlining Bi-Con event in Nashville where she released a new EP: My Undoing, left us all curious as to what’s next for Emryn. Natty’s breakout star of the year, Emryn, is sure to turn heads and send rock waves through the world.
Was it here to prove they knew who she was? To remind her that she had walked away? Had thrown it all away?
Everyone in the group was slowly making their way to the chairs formed in a circle.
Circles. Always fucking circles. Therapy, grief, regret. They all looped back on themselves.
“Emryn?”
How many times had someone repeated her name before they used that sharp tone?
“Emryn, are you ready to join us?”
Sighing, Emryn made it to the only vacant chair left. Leaving the magazine exactly where she had dropped it.
The circle was full today. She hated when it was full. Too many eyes. Too many stories to unravel.
For the most part, Emryn tuned out most of the conversations. After virtual therapy hadn’t seemed to click, her therapist had suggested this specific group therapy. How she thought that these people had similarities with Emryn, seemed to be a slight miscalculation on the therapist’s part.
Crossing her feet at the ankles, Emryn stared at her scuffed converse as the group began their chatter. She couldn’t help the rambling thoughts in her head. The way that a verse seemed to come alive as she zoned out, as she dissociated from her surroundings.
How did I get here? My visions blurred.
I’m numb from the inside out.
Everyone’s dissecting it. Every piece of me. Everything they think they know.
An experiment under a microscope.
I’m not working properly. Sign me up for a lobotomy.
Feeling like skin and bones,
There’s nothing between my eyes.
A walking skeleton down the streets.
Pushing everything away as I turn and run.
I’ve hit a brand new low; what’s lower than this?
It’s an endless pit.
Oh, I’m a mess. I’m a wreck.
Surrounded by everyone complaining about being too happy.
Can’t smile, can’t pretend it.
Oh, I’m a mess. I’m a wreck.
Surrounded by everyone complaining about being too happy.
Emryn wanted to continue, truly she did. It was the first time in months that anything close to a song had danced in her head. And, maybe it was a sign. But as much as that sign flashed its neon lights, there was Dick’s nagging voice as he tried to contain everyone in their group therapy.
She couldn’t tear her thoughts away though. Who would sing it? Who would perform it on a stage and in a recording studio? She knew several potential vocals that would do it justice.
Maybe writing for others would get her a steady paying job rather than performing them herself.
“Emryn,” Dick’s voice rang out again. “What say you? How are you handling the challenges of the past few days since we all last met?”
His name, Richard, he insisted every time Emryn tried to use the nickname, seemed to always point her out.
Emryn forced a casual shrug. “Oh, I don’t feel like talking today.” She admitted softly. And, it was true. She didn’t want to talk, she didn’t want to fake it. She was just so tired of acting like everything was alright.
It was bad enough that the entire world knew she had taken a step away from her music career. Had been forced to deal with the death of her father, the only person in her life that had supported her career choice. The one person that had cheered her on from the very beginning. And having to sit in this group of people that only saw her as the girl dealing with loss, choosing to hide away, having lost all inspiration... It was draining, to say the very least.
And for once, she actually felt like writing.
Her fingers itched to take a pen to paper and put the words she had just found somewhere she could come back to. Then, she thought about picking up her guitar, and that wave of anxiety crashed down on her.
Every time she picked up that instrument, or any instrument, her hands shook, her heart raced and she couldn’t seem to even strum a single damn chord.
Sinking into the creaking metal chair, Emryn reached up, tugging the brim of her black hat lower. As if that would help her hide. The best thing it hid was the fading blue dye in her hair and the roots screaming to the world that she was a natural dirty blonde.
“You haven’t spoken for the last few weeks of meetings.” Richard announced.
In all fairness, she hadn’t spoken once about herself since she joined this group of misfit toys. And, she wanted to keep it that way.
Emryn couldn’t contain the repetitive shrug. “Oh, that’s not why I’m really here.”
Honestly, she wasn’t sure why she was here at all. Of course, her therapist had encouraged it. Wanted her to get out of the house; out of that house. It was smart, she had to admit. Getting back out into the world, even as small as this town was, and breathing in fresh air.
“Speaking isn’t technically required,” he continued. “But it would be nice to hear from you.”
“I just don’t feel like talking today.” Emryn answered as casually as she could muster. Because she didn’t quite have the energy in her to speak. She didn’t have the strength to file through the hardships in her life and try to divulge her emotions.
Based on how Dick shifted in his chair, he wasn’t too comfortable with someone pushing back. He never was with her. Emryn gritted her teeth as Dick’s chair groaned from his movement. She had become his personal project over the past few weeks, and she could tell his patience was waning.
“Alright then,” he breathed before turning to someone else in the circle. “We will circle back later. Barb, how about you?”
Fuck circles. And, God. Barb.
This woman could complain about her children for days. And she had. Which is why Emryn tuned her out just as she did every other time.
It was always the same three issues with her kids.
1. They didn’t listen to her.
2. They were never home or wanted to spend time with her.
3. And she was worried about them drinking and/or smoking. Not that she had any solid proof that they were doing either of those things.
In all actuality, her kids were fine. There was absolutely nothing wrong with them. Emryn knew it, everyone seated in this stupid circle of chairs knew it, and deep down, Barb knew it too. She just wanted to worry. Which was a pretty normal reaction to having teenagers in your house.
“Emryn, do you have anything to say about Barb’s story?” Dick asked.
Glancing around the room, every pair of eyes now fell on her. Even Matt’s unusually hidden form was looking her way. It wasn’t until she heard the tapping of her own foot against the floor that she realized why Dick assumed she had something to say at all.
“No, Richard,” the words came out too sharp, and Emryn winced at the force behind it. Based on Dick’s half smile, it was exactly the kind of response he was hoping for. So, she gave him a cool, but pleasant, smile. “I was always told not to say anything if I don’t have something nice to say.”
God, she loved egging him on. Enjoyed pushing his buttons.
Just the other week, she had said something that embarrassed him enough that she could see the red tint of his scalp through his poorly combed-over thin hair. But for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what it was that had sent him into that crimson state. And, it bugged her that her normally solid memory failed her.
Dick leaned back in his seat as he crossed his arms. “This is a welcoming space. It’s open for all of us to talk and help one another.”
“Doesn’t feel that way,” Emryn breathed too loudly.
Dick raised a bushy eyebrow.
She wasn’t sure why, but she just couldn’t hold it in any longer. Maybe it was the magazine someone had left on the table next to the stale cheap doughnuts, maybe it was that she was tired of Dick always asking her to speak.
Had he been the one to leave that magazine? Probably. And that bugged her the most– that it had worked.
“I’m judged every single day for what I do or don’t say. Whether I’m in this room or not. I know my face generally doesn’t hide what I’m thinking and... I think it’s best that I just stick to the listening part of this group rather than offering my own woeful tales. Even if they aren’t actual problems.” The last part was said in a whisper that was meant to be only loud enough for Emryn’s own ears to hear.
Unfortunately, Dick heard every word.
“We all have things we are dealing with in our own ways. Some can be larger while others are smaller. We aren’t here to discredit anyone’s trauma or problems we are facing. They each weigh on us differently. And, we aren’t here to compare.” He crossed an ankle over his knee before continuing. “We are here to listen as if we have stepped into the other’s shoes to help us in understanding one another. However, I do applaud you for trying to do something different this time.”
Emryn couldn’t help but stare at his ugly khaki pants. Did he pull them out of his dirty laundry pile? They were creased in every which way and demanded an iron or at the very least, a quick few minutes in the dryer.
“Since you’ve opened up a little, please go into more detail about what it is you believe isn’t a problem for us.”
Great. Just... great.
Emryn went and opened her damn mouth and now everyone was expecting her to elaborate.
Rolling her eyes, she let out a heavy sigh, unable to find the easy way out. Not answering wasn’t an option when all eyes were on her.
Generally, having so many eyes on her wasn’t a problem. Her job required hundreds and thousands of eyes on her. But that was when she was on a stage. When she was performing. This though? This was a place that wanted something deep beneath the surface. And, Emryn wasn’t ready for that.
“Fine,” she said quietly. Rather than look at Dick and his receding hairline, Emryn turned to Barb. Because, even though she didn’t like talking in this support-group-therapy-session, she wanted Barb to hear her words.
“Look,” she began. “They’re kids. They’re practically grown now. You did just fine as a parent. You gotta stop doubting yourself, okay?” Her words were leaning more towards forcefulness, so she offered what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “They’re going to mess up. That’s the whole point in life. It’s what teenagers are going to do. If you want... compare them to me. If you do that, maybe you’ll see that they’re gold-star quality kids. Just... talk to them. Talk to them like they’re adults and not toddlers. They probably feel like you’re prying, and just want to be treated differently than that. That’s what they need. It’s what I needed back when I was their age.” Her voice turned to a whisper on the last line.
It was more than what she should’ve offered. Emryn hated getting into the bad parts of her childhood. But she had said it.
She felt the need to explain further. As to why she had needed that kind of thing from her parents when she was Barb’s kid’s age.
“I had one parent that just up and left. While the other supported me in ways that no parent really should’ve. Because he was supporting me for two. He was giving me the courage that I should’ve received from my mom, too. I learned there’s a fine line that parents have to walk. That line of being a parent and a friend. And, when I moved away, even though it was the right thing to do at the time, I think my dad felt like I was leaving him behind. I wasn’t.”
She let out a deep sigh at finally admitting the truth. “Basically,” she said, trying to pivot back to Barb’s life. “Just be there for them. Let them come to you. Give them the opportunity to speak, but try not to wear your heart on your sleeve when they don’t want to right away. Hormones are a bitch, and they have so much coursing through their bodies right now.”
Something weird wrapped its hand on her shoulder, sending a chill down her spine. She needed to get up. Needed to move around.
“Thank you, Emryn.” Dick said with a sincere tone that grated on Emryn’s ears. “Would you like to say more?”
She knew he wanted her to delve into her own relationship with her parents. It was the whole reason she was here. Here in this group setting. Here in her hometown. Here sorting through her father’s house.
Six months ago, when she got the call that her father had died, it had sent Emryn into a spiral she hadn’t seen coming. Her life had been on such a high, that being forced to deal with her dad’s death, his old house, coming back here to the middle of nowhere, she found a dark cloud looming over her, unwilling to leave her alone.
Emryn had fallen so far from that high, she wasn’t sure where the bottom was.
For months, she had been hiding out in this town. In her father’s home. Simply going through the motions.
Hannah Nelson, her original talent scout turned producer, and close friend, had tried to reach out several times. But Emryn couldn’t bring herself to pick up the phone, not even for her. Even though Hannah was reaching out as a friend and not as her agent or producer, she couldn’t bring herself to talk about any of it. Hell, she couldn’t even talk to the strangers in this circle of rickety chairs about it.
And the fact that she’d opened up even this much, sent pins and needles under her skin.
She was hiding in this little slice of nowhere. Even though out of the spotlight, it still felt like she was living in a fishbowl, only a smaller one. Where everyone still knew who she was, staring at her through clouded glass.
Walking down the cracked sidewalks, she knew what they were thinking.
Look at her. She had it all and she still came back.
She felt like a shell of a person. She felt hollow. And having been out of the public eye, it felt good to hide. At least there weren’t as many photos of her circulating the internet.
Sure, there were a few people in town with phones snapping pictures, but they weren’t professional quality. Most were grainy and out of focus, because, God forbid, someone in this town knew how to take a decent photo.
