Forward To Fame
Chapter 3
Lights flashed all around me and the room was spinning. I jumped up and down, fell over, got up, repeated. I was on such a high. I vaguely remember running out to the balcony of the hotel suite and getting sick all over the place. I grabbed another glass that was near to me and washed out the taste. Vodka. I felt it flow through me. I giggled. I remember some guy I danced with and kissed. I remember being in a room with him. I can’t remember how far we went. I remember the five lines of white powder on the glass table. I remember bending over and snorting a whole line. More lights, more booze, more drugs, more men. Music blasted the speakers and I kept falling about. I went into a room with another man, he was beautiful. I remember undressing. I remember his hands. I remember where his mouth went. I remember blacking out.
Light peered in through a crack in the curtains. I slowly opened my eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. I lifted my head a little to feel the pain surging through. Hangover. I sat up realising I was naked. I yelped in horror and looked desperately for my cloths but to no avail. I grabbed a mans t-shirt that was on the floor and threw it over my shivering skin. The man was on the bed, also naked, sound asleep. I groaned. I felt disgusting. I was still in the hotel suite. A few people were strewn hear and there like there had been a massacre last night. I ran out, crying.
I came down to the lobby of the hotel. I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. I looked like death. My skin was oily from the make-up left on, mascara streamed down my face as I cried. Mathieu’s masterpiece looked like it had been burned. I felt like crap and wasn’t even wearing my own cloths. I walked to the door and smiled miserabley at the door man who pulled it open. To my horror, a thousands cameras flashed at once in my face. Kill me.
I cancelled my interview that evening and I lay in bed. My whole body ached. I was all alone. Fabiora was barely speaking to me. I knew I had messed up. My laptop sat beside me, dormant as I cried. Suddenly a bubble popped up.
‘You have new mail from friends.com,’ I murmured.
I clicked into it. A guy called Joshy546 had left me a message. I read it absentmindely but as I continued I grew more captivated.
'Katie-Louise, that’s a pretty name. I read your profile and it immedietally caught my eye. I don’t use this much, it was just another website to rid me of my boredom. You’re a musician that’s cool. I’m an artist. I guess that’s kinda of similar. We are both creating something that we want people to acknowledge. We are letting our feeling out through pictures or songs. I am 21. Black hair. Green eyes. I have five piercings, three of which are on my face and one tattoo. Unlike you, I live with my parents. Unfortunately, I cannot make a living with my art alone so I work part-time as a bar man. As well as college, you can imagine I am quite busy. Even so, I am bored and very much alone. When you said you had associates more than friends, it really captured my mind. For the simple reason that I guess when you said it kinda made me realise that that’s exactly the same as me. I have people who are there, but I don’t connect with them. Is that how you feel? Katie-Lou, you sound like a very interesting girl. Let me know if you wish to talk. Joshy.'
Reading it made me smile. He seemed like a troubled guy, I liked that. It was intriguing. I mean its boring talking to someone who just has everything he wants. Everyone needs some drama. I viewed his profile. He was quite handsome. Not gorgeous but definitely my type, the rugged emo type. He had joined the website six months ago but he hadn’t talked to anyone. That made me feel quite special. I took down his email address. I couldn’t wait to write back to him for some reason.
'Joshy,
Hi. Thank you for your message. It is very much appreiciated as I have had an incredibly bad day so far. I am very hungover and some things happened last night I am too ashamed to mention. My head hurts, my heart hurts and I feel like crap. You are probally wondering why I am being so open with you. Truth is, I can’t talk to anyone, so here I am pouring myself out over an email to an anonymous (but good- looking ) guy. You seem nice. As for the associates thing, I meant I have one associate, she organises my life basically. She is my only ‘friend’ but I can’t talk to her. Do you have any paintings of your pictures? I would love to see some art. Do you have a good life Joshy? Are you happy? This sounds harsh, but I really want to die. I honestly have nothing left to live for. You really probally don’t want to hear me babble on about my depressing life. Feel free to never right back.
Katie-Lou'
I sent the email and got out of bed. In the bathroom, I ran the water, slowly filling the bath. I felt the hot steam roll over my skin as I took off my dressing gown. I put my foot in and then slowly my body, letting warm water cover me. I let out a breath, feeling replenished almost immiedietly. I grabbed the razor that sat by the bath. It was expensive. It had cost a lot of money, for a razor. But I had money, of course I would buy the best razor in the world. I lifted it up and began fiddling with it. It ended up landing just above my wrist. I put it down feeing the cool metal hit the delicate skin. I pressed down harder, harder. At the last second I pulled away. Unable to go through with it. A tiny trickle of blood had streamed down my arm. I put it under the water and watched the little ray of redness pour through the clear water. Like artwork.
I thought of Joshy.
Weird.
Light peered in through a crack in the curtains. I slowly opened my eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. I lifted my head a little to feel the pain surging through. Hangover. I sat up realising I was naked. I yelped in horror and looked desperately for my cloths but to no avail. I grabbed a mans t-shirt that was on the floor and threw it over my shivering skin. The man was on the bed, also naked, sound asleep. I groaned. I felt disgusting. I was still in the hotel suite. A few people were strewn hear and there like there had been a massacre last night. I ran out, crying.
I came down to the lobby of the hotel. I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. I looked like death. My skin was oily from the make-up left on, mascara streamed down my face as I cried. Mathieu’s masterpiece looked like it had been burned. I felt like crap and wasn’t even wearing my own cloths. I walked to the door and smiled miserabley at the door man who pulled it open. To my horror, a thousands cameras flashed at once in my face. Kill me.
I cancelled my interview that evening and I lay in bed. My whole body ached. I was all alone. Fabiora was barely speaking to me. I knew I had messed up. My laptop sat beside me, dormant as I cried. Suddenly a bubble popped up.
‘You have new mail from friends.com,’ I murmured.
I clicked into it. A guy called Joshy546 had left me a message. I read it absentmindely but as I continued I grew more captivated.
'Katie-Louise, that’s a pretty name. I read your profile and it immedietally caught my eye. I don’t use this much, it was just another website to rid me of my boredom. You’re a musician that’s cool. I’m an artist. I guess that’s kinda of similar. We are both creating something that we want people to acknowledge. We are letting our feeling out through pictures or songs. I am 21. Black hair. Green eyes. I have five piercings, three of which are on my face and one tattoo. Unlike you, I live with my parents. Unfortunately, I cannot make a living with my art alone so I work part-time as a bar man. As well as college, you can imagine I am quite busy. Even so, I am bored and very much alone. When you said you had associates more than friends, it really captured my mind. For the simple reason that I guess when you said it kinda made me realise that that’s exactly the same as me. I have people who are there, but I don’t connect with them. Is that how you feel? Katie-Lou, you sound like a very interesting girl. Let me know if you wish to talk. Joshy.'
Reading it made me smile. He seemed like a troubled guy, I liked that. It was intriguing. I mean its boring talking to someone who just has everything he wants. Everyone needs some drama. I viewed his profile. He was quite handsome. Not gorgeous but definitely my type, the rugged emo type. He had joined the website six months ago but he hadn’t talked to anyone. That made me feel quite special. I took down his email address. I couldn’t wait to write back to him for some reason.
'Joshy,
Hi. Thank you for your message. It is very much appreiciated as I have had an incredibly bad day so far. I am very hungover and some things happened last night I am too ashamed to mention. My head hurts, my heart hurts and I feel like crap. You are probally wondering why I am being so open with you. Truth is, I can’t talk to anyone, so here I am pouring myself out over an email to an anonymous (but good- looking ) guy. You seem nice. As for the associates thing, I meant I have one associate, she organises my life basically. She is my only ‘friend’ but I can’t talk to her. Do you have any paintings of your pictures? I would love to see some art. Do you have a good life Joshy? Are you happy? This sounds harsh, but I really want to die. I honestly have nothing left to live for. You really probally don’t want to hear me babble on about my depressing life. Feel free to never right back.
Katie-Lou'
I sent the email and got out of bed. In the bathroom, I ran the water, slowly filling the bath. I felt the hot steam roll over my skin as I took off my dressing gown. I put my foot in and then slowly my body, letting warm water cover me. I let out a breath, feeling replenished almost immiedietly. I grabbed the razor that sat by the bath. It was expensive. It had cost a lot of money, for a razor. But I had money, of course I would buy the best razor in the world. I lifted it up and began fiddling with it. It ended up landing just above my wrist. I put it down feeing the cool metal hit the delicate skin. I pressed down harder, harder. At the last second I pulled away. Unable to go through with it. A tiny trickle of blood had streamed down my arm. I put it under the water and watched the little ray of redness pour through the clear water. Like artwork.
I thought of Joshy.
Weird.