Chapter 22: Drop
715 Words
The morning felt calmer.
Not peaceful—
But calmer.
Skye sat in the backseat of the car, one leg crossed over the other, sunglasses resting on her face as Los Angeles blurred outside the window.
In the driver’s seat, Zara was already juggling calls and schedules like always.
Preston sat beside Skye, glancing at her for a moment before speaking.
“When all this is over,” he said, “you seriously need time off.”
Skye let out a tired laugh.
“Don’t even tell me twice.”
She tilted her head back slightly.
“Saturday. No work. No cameras. No meetings.”
Preston smiled. “What’s the plan?”
“You and me,” she replied, pointing at him. “Beach. Log house. Quiet.”
“That actually sounds perfect.”
“Exactly.”
Zara scoffed from the front seat. “You two better not dump every responsibility on me.”
Skye grinned instantly.
“Oh, Zara… you’re my manager.”
“That means?”
“You handle everything.”
Zara groaned dramatically. “I hate rich people.”
Preston laughed while Skye leaned back smugly.
“You love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
—
The recording studio greeted her like a second home.
Soft lights.
Heavy bass vibrating faintly through the walls.
People moving quickly behind the scenes.
“SKYE!”
A tall man with locs and silver rings stepped forward, smiling widely.
Her producer.
Malik Rivers.
“What up, superstar?” he said, pulling her into a quick side hug. “You ready to make another hit?”
Skye laughed softly. “Maybe.”
Malik narrowed his eyes. “That sounds dangerous.”
She walked into the booth slowly, headphones resting around her neck.
“Today feels different,” she admitted. “I don’t think I’m rapping much.”
“Oh?”
“I wanna sing.”
Malik nodded slowly, understanding immediately.
“The final track for Drop?”
“Yeah.”
“A softer close?”
Skye looked down at her phone where rough lyrics sat unfinished on the screen.
“Not soft,” she said quietly.
“Real.”
—
The room fell quieter after that.
The beat started.
Gentle piano first.
Then a slow rhythm underneath.
Emotional.
Honest.
Skye stepped closer to the mic.
Closed her eyes.
And began.
🎤 Skye — “Pressure Rooms”
Late nights staring at the ceiling,
Too many voices, too many feelings,
Smile for the cameras, hide what I’m healing,
Everybody watching but nobody seeing.
They love when you shine,
But not when you break,
Tell me how much pressure
One soul supposed to take?
I got diamonds on my wrist,
But my mind still aches,
Got the world screaming loud
While my heart still shakes.
—
I keep running, running, trying not to fall,
Building up these walls while I’m losing it all,
If I stop for a second, will they still call my name?
Or am I just another star wrapped up in fame?
—
The beat shifted slightly.
More drums.
More emotion.
And she slid into rap effortlessly—
🎤 Skye (rap verse):
Everybody want a piece when you finally rise,
But nobody talks about the tears you hide,
Everybody loves fame till it burns your life,
Till you can’t tell truth from the flashing lights.
I’m tired but I keep that smile on,
Even superheroes break when the night long,
Carry all this weight while the show goes on,
Singing through the pain while the crowd sing along.
Silence.
The beat faded slowly.
And for a moment—
Nobody spoke.
Malik stared through the glass.
“…Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’s the one.”
Skye slowly pulled the headphones off.
Emotion still lingering in her eyes.
Preston looked at her from the couch in the studio.
“I like this one better.”
She looked at him.
“Better than the others?”
He nodded.
“Because this one sounds like you.”
—
For the first time in days—
Skye smiled softly.
Not the celebrity smile.
Not the performance smile.
A real one.
—
But resting beside her phone…
The screen lit up again.
Unknown number.
Again.
Again.
Again.
This time—
She didn’t even look at it.
—
And somehow…
That felt worse.
- Writer
