6. Run Away With Me
Run Away With Me
The day was finally here. The sound of the arena echoes all around me—cables being dragged, guitars strummed, techs shouting instructions into headsets.
A chaotic symphony that should make me feel like I’m on top of the world.
Instead, my stomach is in knots, my fingers tapping against the metal railing overlooking the arena.
You’re going to be fine.
I repeat it to myself—a mantra that hasn’t quite kicked in yet.
“First time nerves?” a playful voice asks from behind me.
I turn and nearly freeze. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing one of my idols in the flesh.
Ava stands there calm and collected in oversized sunglasses wearing designer sweats.
She pulls her sunglasses down slightly to look at me, a cheeky smirk on her lips.
“A little…I think.”
“You’ve got this girl! I wouldn’t have asked for you if I didn’t think you had it in you,” she says.
My jaw drops. This was news to me. “Wait, you asked for me?”
She nods.
“Why? Surely you could have had anyone?”
She shrugs. “This can be a lonely business and there was something about you I liked—I knew we’d get on, plus you’re insanely talented!”
Her words hit harder than I expect. She’s been nothing but kind to me since we met—checking in during rehearsals, offering quiet encouragement I hadn’t expected from someone like her.
They always say never meet your heroes, right?
But Ava…she’s genuine.
And if someone like her believes in me, then maybe—I should start giving myself a little more credit.
“Thanks. Coming from you that means everything.”
She bumps my shoulder like we’re just two girls hanging out, not two women about to step on one of the biggest stages in the world.
“Hey, anytime. And listen, if you freak out before we go on, my dressing room’s always stocked with booze and gummy bears.”
I laugh, some of the tension melting away. “Good to know.”
“Come on.” She loops her arm through mine and tugs me toward the stage. “Let’s get to soundcheck.”
After soundcheck, back in my dressing room, it’s quiet.
Almost too quiet. I sit on the couch, fiddling with a guitar pick, when a wave of emotion sneaks up out of nowhere.
The last time I felt this kind of nervous excitement was the finale of Startstruck Australia, when I was standing on the edge of victory, she was there. Mom.
The sterile scent of the hospital room clung to everything—my clothes, my skin, my heart.
My phone buzzed relentlessly with unanswered messages and calls about my single, the album, the press engagements and interviews, but none of that mattered.
Not now.
Not while my mom lay in that bed—too pale, too thin, still trying to smile like she wasn’t slipping away right in front of me.
The doctors warned us she didn’t have long. “We’ll make her as comfortable as we can.”
She was a shell of the person she used to be—the most beautiful woman I had ever known, who could command a room the moment she stepped into it. And now…she was so small, being slowly consumed by this fucking disease.
I sat next to her, clutching her hand gently as if putting any pressure on it would make it break, fighting the tears that were always just behind my eyes these days.
She brushed her thumb over my knuckles—soft but weak, comforting me, when I should’ve been the one holding her together.
“Anak,” she whispered, her voice thin but still fierce, so her, even now. “Promise me something.”
I shook my head, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Mom…”
“No, we have to talk about it, I don’t know if we’ll get another chance.” Her voice firm but caring, her grip tightened as much as she could manage. “Promise me…that when I’m gone…you’ll find your spark. You won’t let this, this pain, this darkness—swallow you whole.”
“How, how am I supposed to do this without you,” I sobbed against her frail thin arm, any composure or strength I mustered wilting away.
She paused, her eyes sharp despite everything. “Can’t have this fucking cancer taking both of us.”
I looked up at her, tears slipping down my face.
“You’re my special girl,” she murmured, a small, sad smile on her lips. “You were born to shine, Anak. Don’t dwell in the dark for too long. Promise me.”
“I promise,” I whispered, even though I didn’t know if I could keep it—but in that moment, I would’ve promised her anything. Anything to ease her suffering. Anything to give her a moment of peace in all this pain.
She squeezed my hand, eyes fluttering shut as a single tear slipped down her cheek.
“That’s my girl.”
There’s a knock on the door and I turn, swallowing the lump in my throat. Snapping me back to the here and now, the weight of her words pressing against my chest.
Find your spark.
I wipe at my eyes, standing up and glancing in the mirror.
This is for her. For me.
“Come in.”
“You ready to get glam honey?” Rio grins as he pokes his head in.
I square my shoulders, offering a real smile this time. “Absolutely.”
Before long, I’m styled within an inch of my life—hair pulled back into a high ponytail, curls cascading down my back, a black sequin two-piece bodysuit hugging my curves, and matching platform boots shimmer like jewels, giving me extra height.
My heart hums as the stagehands lead me to my mark, the low thrum of the crowd pulsing like a living heartbeat beneath the stage. The vibration hums up through my feet into my chest.
I’ve performed before—pub gigs, studio audiences, a handful of football games singing the national anthem—but this…this is different.
Tonight, it’s a sold-out arena. Nearly fifteen thousand people. Here to see Ava, and maybe even see me…
“Places,” a voice in my earpiece says as I crouch onto a platform beneath the stage.
The music starts. The voice in my ear counts down.
I grip the microphone tightly as the platform rises, my pulse pounding in my ears.
The lights hit me like a wave, blinding me as my eyes take a second to adjust.
And then I see it—the crowd.
A sea of faces, screaming, chanting my name. Tiny lights illuminate them like a stars in the night sky.
I take it in, breathing it into my bones, before I sing the first notes of “Ignite.”
The crowd sings with me, word for word, and I can’t help but smile.
When the last note fades, I step back, catching my breath as the cheers crash over me like a wave.
“Hello, Madison Square Garden! I’m Elena Montgomery and I’ll be your date for this evening,” I call out, laughing as the crowd erupts, voices echoing back at me. “Wow, you guys are loud! I love it!”
Grinning, I pace the stage, waving in every direction, blowing kisses to the fans.
“I know it’s a favorite for some of you who are still trying to find your fire, your passion—that thing that makes you feel alive.”
I pause, smiling at the people in the front row, their excited faces filling my heart with so much glee. I spot the four competition winners Britney, Shae, Zini and Ben and wave at them.
“I want to take a moment to thank the amazing Ava Edwards for having me here on the Madness & Mayhem National Tour!”
The cheers roll again, and I walk over to my guitar, slipping the strap over my shoulder. A stagehand rushes in like a shadow helping me adjust it with quick precision.
“And since this is our first date, I figured we’d ease into first base.” I smirk, placing the mic in the stand.
The crowd roars.
“Knew you’d be into that.
“Now, has anyone here ever been, alone at night—overthinking, listening to sad music, wishing someone would just hold you through it?”
The audience clamor in response.
“This one’s for us. It’s called Midnight.”
I slide into the softer melody, my voice low and warm as I pour out the ache of those nights, the quiet longing. As I sing, the sea of lights sways like fireflies on a summer’s night.
When I finish, breathless, I shake my head.
Incredible.
Their adoration radiates through me, warm and overwhelming. I’ve never felt anything like it.
If I could hold on to this—this energy, this connection—it would be enough to carry me through every heartbreak, every storm.
For the first time, I’m completely myself. Unafraid. Seen.
“You guys really know how to make a girl feel special,” I tease.
I adjust my guitar.
“Alright, this next one…you probably screamed it in your car, cried to it.”
A wave of yesss and Sparks! rises before I even say it.
I smile, heart tight in the best way.
“I wanted to do it a little different tonight. Stripped back. Because this song…this one means a lot. It’s about searching for that person who lights up your life and realizing maybe, what you were searching for, was in you all along.”
The crowd goes quiet, waiting.
I take a breath and strum the first soft notes of “Sparks.”
I sing it quieter this time, raw, vulnerable,
“Find the spark inside you. Feel it in your bones. Know that in the darkness. You are not alone.”
By the end, I step back and let them carry the last chorus.
My own lyrics echo back to me, the sound swelling until my throat tightens.
For a moment, I stand there, letting it wash over me.
Faces blur in the front row—some swaying together, one woman with mascara streaking down her cheeks.
Seeing how my words have touched them, how they’ve become ours now, chokes me up. My eyes sting, glistening.
When the song finishes, the applause is deafening, and I let out a shaky laugh.
“You’ve been magical on this date,” I tease, breathless. “But what do you say we kick things up a notch?”
The crowd cheers wildly. As I slip my guitar off, the stagehand already at my side to collect it.
“Yeah, take it off!” someone yells, and I giggle, blowing a kiss toward the direction of the voice.
“Now listen, life’s short, right? So this next song is about making memories. Taking the photo. Kissing the boy, or girl.” I giggle, and they eat it up.
“This is Cherish.”
The beat kicks in, backup dancers fill the stage, the energy lifting as I sing about savoring every moment, dancing along to the choreographed steps, praying to God, I don’t trip and fall on my face. Seeing the arena come alive and everyone jumps to their feet to dance along.