I had enjoyed my few minutes of fame and the splintering excitement of a performance. Now, back to real, dull life.

I had been met after my performance with cheers and compliments, courtesy of mostly of the music teacher at my high school. That, and my classmates, most of whom regarded me as 'that one weird girl obsessed with violin' or 'the nerd'. They seemed proud of me, like I was the class pet who had performed a cool trick.

Shaking off the electricity that pierced my heart every time I remembered my wasted potential, I forced a smile onto my lips. "That was awesome, Alina! Good job!" Mr. Dwayne, my history teacher shouted down the hall as we were dismissed from the gymnasium.

The compliment barely chipped away at my frustration.

As always, my performance was last, the somewhat startling finale of the whole show. Every year it was the same: the bad singers, the good singers, guitar solos and the occasional dance or play.

Of course, my piece had been chosen out of a wide range of music, but this I specifically chose because of the tricks and turns, like the left finger pizz that took a week to master, the long runs and fast notes that impressed. But in the end, it didn't really matter. This performance was the same as every other one. Disappointing.

As I swept down the hall, I cradled the burning feeling in my head. Contemplated it, and then threw it out of my thoughts. Yet, this was the only emotion that bothered me anymore, after years of denial and pain.  

What are you doing this for? Yourself?

I hated this, the aftermath of a concert, a performance, anything to showcase my talent. Guilt that I didn't play just for the sake of music, but for the audience, the fame. I needed to seize that success, not feel bad for falling into that cycle of wanting more.

But still, I couldn't swallow the guilt today. Not right now.

Instead of heading for my parents, I ducked into a bathroom. I didn't know what I was planning, but involuntarily I caught sight of myself in the mirror.

A desperate, hollow, beautiful girl with dreams.

I tried to shake off the weight on my shoulders, and splashed my face with some water. The cold liquid seemed to settle me down. I finally took a calm breath, my heart seemingly broken until now.

Suddenly, the door slammed open. Jumping out of surprise, I narrowed my eyes at the girl waiting behind me. Pushing away from the sink, I scowled at the only person in this entire school with more worth than myself.

"Thanks, Alina." Rachel said, turning on the faucet. "You did a really great job, by the way. Your performance was great!"

I tried to smile, but it ended up in a grimace. "Thank you, Rachel." I pushed out of the bathroom.

The occasional student in the hallway I passed ignored me or smiled politely, but I stumbled away before any words were said.

So many people here, and not one of them knew me. I didn't even know myself. I felt like I was the only person in the world. 

I was ashamed of myself for feeling what I did, but I was fearful because I couldn't stop it, the blood boiling in me, begging for justice. Justice for my pain and everything I had given for music. It was no longer just for music, but for the fame, the standing ovations that fueled me. I was addicted to it.

I narrowed my eyes and let out a shuddering breath. I wouldn't fight it anymore. I would let it take me to high places, and then grieve for the part of myself I had lost. Everything weighing me down seemed to fall off, and suddenly I was free. There was only one more thing I had to do.

I would prepare for destruction.