Bree
The cold night air hit me straight in the face, sharp and bracing, slicing through the leftover adrenaline buzzing in my veins. It helped me breathe easier, helped me slow the frantic pounding of my heart, even as my chest still felt too tight, like I’d just run miles without stopping. It was overwhelming, almost suffocating inside that hut—with all those eyes, all that noise—but out here it felt…liberating. Like I could finally exhale. Like I could actually bare myself to the world without crumbling under the weight of it.
I had never sung in front of anyone before—not really. Sure, there were the casual moments with my mom: belting along to the radio when it was just us in the car, or humming some melody under my breath while dancing around the kitchen, making a grilled cheese. Bu
