Things Have Changed

Ryan left the next morning but not before a warm coffee and a blue berry muffin from Starbucks of course. I had missed Ryan, more than I had ever imagined, we still had so much time to catching up to do, but of course he had to go, the life of a touring rock star I guess.

So now, here I was, sitting at my office desk trying to focus on writing an article of Panic’s performance at Reading however, my concentration span had ended... four hours ago.

Panic at the Disco burst through the airwaves and onto our IPods faster than anyone.
No, that’s crap.

Las Vegas quartet Panic at the Disco.... nothing.

I just sat there, at the computer desk with my eyes boring into the screen, completely lost for words.

“Liz” I looked up to see Mark standing in front of my desk “The editors want the articles on their desks by five.”

My eyes widened “Are you serious?”

He nodded.

I groaned, digging through a few folders taking out the article on The Kaiser Chiefs, as well as The Arctic Monkeys and Fall Out Boy articles.

Mark raised his eyebrows “There’s only three articles here. Liz, where’s Panic’s article?”
I sighed running a hand through my dark brown hair “It’s not done.”

“You’ve had three days.” Mark said sternly.

“Well I do have a life”

“And as a journalist you would know, that your life revolves around having your articles in by a due date.” He said, raising his voice.

“I haven’t had time” I said stubbornly.

“Well stop getting pissed every night and sit down and write something! NME is taking a massive chance with you. Their employing an eighteen year old for fucks sake! Most journalists double your age would kill to work here, and with that stunt you pulled on Friday.”
“It’s not my fault that they’re all pricks, no other band had a problem with me, except Panic.”
“Liz, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but if you’re not careful your jobs gonna be on the rocks.”

“What?”

Mark nodded “There have been... rumours regarding your... professionalism.” He laughed dryly to himself “You know we don’t mind, you’re our baby Liz but the board and all the rest of the important people are saying that it’s giving the magazine a bad image. We all want you here, but you’re gonna have to step it up.”

I sighed, staring at my feet “I-I just can’t write anything, anything at all about them, it’s impossible.”

“Liz, there’s a infinite line of angles you can take them from, we all know you’ve got the brains, you’ll come up with something.”

I nodded spinning around to the computer screen and sighing loudly, I began to write whatever came to mind.

Panic at the Disco burst onto the music scene in early 2006 with their combination of...

I placed the final article on my editor’s desk, quickly leaving before he had a chance to read it. Usually I would wait until he had finished reading the article, followed by about half an hour of being showered with praise about how much of a brilliant writer I was.

Today was not the case, I knew what I had written was only one step above trash and didn’t need to be abused over it for the next hour and a half. I already felt shit enough.

I knew what I needed; I knew it was wrong it was even more obvious now than ever. It was like a drug, and I needed a hit desperately.

The next half hour was a total blur. I rushed home tore through my room, pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans and an emerald blouse. I quickly applied my make up and ran out of the apartment, Lilly in tow.

NME was hosting a party for recently signed Liverpool band Lost in a Daze and although I wasn’t expected to make an appearance I did anyway, it was brief but I was there, even if it was for only half an hour.

Six vodka shots and two brandy shots later and I had found another guy and another hotel room. The perfect way to forget.

His lips crashed roughly in mine, too hard, too much pressure, my lips were actually beginning to hurt.

He shoved me onto the bed and quickly climbed on top of me attacking my neck. I closed my eyes, trying to enjoy it but I couldn’t forget.

Maybe it was because I hadn’t drunk enough or maybe it was because of some other unknown reason but I couldn’t forget.

There was no feeling of excitement or pleasure as I felt him unbutton my blouse and kiss down my chest.

It didn’t feel right.

It felt wrong, dirty, horrible, scummy.

That in the end is what I was, scum, slut, a worthless piece of meat to be used by everyone around. The worst part about it was that I had bought this upon myself, that this was my fault. I deserved this.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when I felt his hands unbutton my pants. He had already removed himself of most of his clothing.

I knew I had to make a decision now, before it was too late. I had to tell him to stop or let him use and abuse me in the same way everyone else did.

“Stop” I whispered quietly as his lips their way back to my neck, and then to my lips.

“Stop” I repeated again, more forcefully this time. His lips were back on mine, silencing my words. I was sure he had heard me.

With all my strength I tried to push him off me, but he wasn’t getting the hint. I finally tore my lips from his yelling stop in the process.
He paused for a second, I couldn’t see him too well in the darkness of the hotel room but I could tell he was a large strong guy.

“I, I need to go, now” I said, trying to slide out from underneath him.

“No you don’t” he said simply.

“No, really I do, I need to see... I need to see my boyfriend” I lied.

“Liz, I know you don’t have a boyfriend.” The guy said.

My breath caught in my throat and I reached over to bedside table and turned on the lamp.

“Mitch?”

He laughed quietly “You really should check who you fuck Liz.”

I quickly got up, put my top on and fixed my hair in the mirror.

This time it had gone too far. I almost slept with a colleague.

That wasn’t on.

Even I, Liz Rose knew that.

“Where are you going?” he asked lying down on the soft mattress.

“Home” I said franticly “Mitch, you have to promise me you won’t say anything.”

He laughed “Can’t make any promises.”

“Mitch you have too.” I said urgently.

“I don’t have to do anything” he grinned “After all; your job’s the one on the line, not mine.”

I knew it; Mark had told Mitch about the situation I was in, about my struggles getting to write anything and about my other... issues. And of course, Mitch being Mitch was going to hold them against me.

“Come on Mitch, this is my career, my dream, you can’t tell him, please” I begged.

“Sleep with me” he said smugly.

“What?”

“Sleep with me and I won’t tell Mark.”

“Mitch, I- I c-.” I had no idea what to say he was taking advantage of me, that was blatantly obvious and usually by now, I would have told him where to go. However, this was my job, my dream, what I had been working towards all my life.

“Mitch you can’t be serious” I said quietly.

“Dead serious” he said getting up off the bed and walking over to me “Come on babe” he whispered in my ear.

I knew what I had to do.

I pushed him onto the bed and straddled him quickly pulling off my top and pants before undoing my bra. The sooner I was over and done with this the better.

His hot, sweaty body was soon on top of mine, rubbing and violating it. It was dirty, it was wrong and it made me sick to think I had sunk this low. Tears were pouring down my face. I didn’t care about my job anymore I knew I couldn’t go through with this.

“Stop!” I cried loudly from underneath him but it was too late