Chapter 4 — Music Room Meltdown

Skyler

You’d think a place like Paper Planes—a facility all about healing and trust and whatever—would have a decent vibe to it. But the second I stepped into the music room for my first “mandatory group activity,” I was hit by the kind of tension that could snap guitar strings.

The room wasn’t bad, honestly. Hardwood floors, sun-drenched windows, instruments scattered around like they were just begging to be played. The faint scent of wood polish and old strings hung in the air, familiar yet oddly hollow, like an out-of-tune memory. It should’ve felt like home. Instead, it felt like a stage, but not the kind I belonged on.