I Can Hear Your Voice of Treason From a Mile Away.

That night, stuck between McKenna and Colton on a full size mattress, I tossed and turned endlessly in my sleep, forced to relive unwanted memories as my mind toyed with my emotions.


“Why don’t you tell him about your little boyfriend, Starr?” I looked up from my lap, apprehensively, to see that dreadful smirk upon my dad’s girlfriend’s face. She was enjoying this. “Tell your father,” She pushed.

“D-dad, I . . . I . . . um,” I couldn’t find the words to tell him that my boyfriend was in a band and well on his way to being covered in tattoos. He was the exact type of guy my father didn’t want me to be with, and it was that fact alone that made my father a hypocrite. He didn’t want me to date a tattooed egomaniac Rockstar, yet that is exactly what father was.

“What’s going on?” My father asked, worried eyes searching my face for any clues. “Honey, what is it?”

“Daddy, I met this guy a couple weeks ago,” I swallowed nervously, trying to choose my words wisely; as wisely as a seventeen-year-old, such as myself, could manage. “And I’ve been seeing him behind your back since then because I knew you wouldn’t like him.”

“What?” His eyebrows creased and his lips pursed as confusion etched into the features of his face. A lot of the same features I had acquired from him, like his eyes and cheekbones. My eyes were a deep, emerald green that always gave my feelings away; they were the same eyes that my father stared back at me with. We also shared the same high cheekbones and olive skin tone. Despite those similarities, we were nothing alike.

He searched my face again for any clues hidden in my eyes, and then his eyes moved to Astrid’s face to search her murky eyes. Coming up with nothing, he faced me again, leaning forward to grab my hands. “How do you know I wouldn’t like him?”

“Um,” I hummed, nervously. The words were there on the tip of my tongue, but they wouldn’t come out.

“Tell him,” Astrid demanded, glaring down at me with her horrible eyes.

Huffing, I slid my hands back into my lap. “Dad,” I muttered, avoiding his stare. “Brian is . . . he’s in a band, okay? He’s tall, muscular, and tattooed—everything you told me to stay away from—but I care about him.”

When my words sunk in, I knew I was done for. My father hated being disobeyed. “I thought I raised you to be smart, Starr.” He dropped his hands, jumping to his feet to pace the living room floor.

After a few minutes of mumbling to his self, he stopped and turned to Astrid. “Have you met this young man, Astrid?”

“No, not yet, Michael,” She answered. “I can if you’d like me to.”

“Yes, that sounds like a good idea.”

I jumped out of my seat, shocked. “Dad, you can’t be serious!” I exclaimed, despising the idea of Astrid meeting Brian. “Why can’t you meet him yourself?”

“I have another tour coming up, Starr,” He insisted. “Astrid will just have to check him out for me.”

“No,” I insisted. “She’s not my mom, dad! I won’t let her meet my boyfriend.”

“You will, or you won’t ever leave this house again.” He demanded.

“I’m almost 18. You can’t keep me here forever.” I argued back. “You let Jessie have a life. Why can’t I have one?”

“You can have a life when you learn to listen.” He insisted, sternly.

“You have to grow up first, darling.” Astrid chuckled, snootily.

“Oh, shut up,” I growled, rolling my eyes at her. “Nobody freaking likes you,”

“Starr,” My father scolded.

“Leave me alone,” I muttered, going upstairs.

“Starr!”

“I hate you!” I hollered, slamming my bedroom door shut behind me.


Almost ten years has passed since that day, but it’s only been eight years since I left home to move in with Brian.


“Dad, this isn’t fair!” I groaned. “Brian is a great guy! Maybe if you just gave him a chance, you’d see . . .”

“Starr, my word is final.” He insisted. “You’re not to see this guy anymore.”

“Why?” I glared. “Is it because you’re scared he’ll treat me the same way you treated mom?”

“Starrlyn!” He hissed. “That’s not fair!”

“Then, let me decide for myself!”

“Alright,” He nodded. “If you want to make your own decisions so bad, I’ll give you two choices. You can both stop seeing this Brian character and remain a part of this family, or you can continue to be with him and pack your things.”

“What?” I exclaimed, shell-shocked at his words. “Are you serious?”

“Completely,” He confirmed. “If you’re so tired of being in this family, you can pack your bags and go. It’s either him or us, not both.”

“Did Astrid put you up to this?” I asked, putting the pieces together. “Is she tired of me already?”

“She has nothing to do with this, young lady.” He growled. “This is between you and me.”

“No, this is obviously you choosing her over me, dad.” Rolling my eyes, I ran up the stairs before he could argue otherwise. I packed my stuff up, gathering all the things I needed into my suitcases. I didn’t even bother with goodbyes; I just put my shit in my car and took off.

When I got to Brian’s place, tears were pouring down my cheeks. When he opened the door, Brian just pulled me into his chest and let me cry. Afterwards, once I was calm and collected, he insisted that I move in with him, and thus began our crazy rollercoaster ride some would call a relationship.


Waking up, I realized I was crying for real—not just in my dream. I knew it would be no use trying to go back to sleep, so like a ninja I inched my way from between McKenna and Colton, being careful not to wake Dryden who was in bed with Brian a few feet away.

Shutting the door softly behind me, I made my way downstairs and out to the front porch. It was only about four in the morning, so the sky was still dark and the stars were still out twinkling about.

Johnny was leaning on the railing of the porch, smoking a cancer stick when I stepped outside. He turned to me curiously, but didn’t say a word.

“Can I have one of those?” I asked him, eyeing the pack of Marlboro’s next to him.

He looked from me to the pack before turning back to me with raised eyebrows. “You smoke . . .?” He asked, handing me the pack along with a lighter.

Nodding my head, I grabbed the pack from him, sliding a cigarette out from inside the case. “When I feel the need to,” Lighting the cigarette, I began to inhale and exhale the nicotine of it. I could feel it trying to calm me down as it went into my system.

Several minutes passed between us without a word spoken or a sound made. As we puffed on our cigarettes, it was peaceful—the complete opposite of what I was used to living in Los Angeles.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Turning back to Johnny, I raised an eyebrow at his question. “What?”

“Would you like to talk about why you’re crying?”

“Oh,” I chuckled, wiping under my eyes. “I’m not crying.”

“Starr,” He insisted. “Your eyes are red, and your cheeks are blotchy. You’ve been crying.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” I shrugged. “Just remembering some things, is all.”

“What kind of things?” He sat next to me on the porch swing, leaving enough space for someone else between us.

I sighed, flicking the ashes off the end of my cigarette. “Do you ever have those dreams about the past?” When I noticed him nod his head, I continued. “That’s what woke me up.”

“Memories of you and Brian together . . . ?”

Shaking my head, I sighed again. “That’s what I expected them to consist of, but Brian wasn’t even in them. Instead,” I paused to swallow, trying to keep the tears back. “They were of when my dad kicked me out for being with Brian.”

“Brian never told us your dad kicked you out.” Johnny mumbled, looking down thoughtfully.

“. . . He didn’t know,” I mumbled, barely above a whisper.

Johnny turned to me, shocked. “What?”

I swallowed, again; this time nervously. “He didn’t know that my father disowned me.” I said, louder. “I didn’t want him to feel bad.” Folding my legs under me, I curled up on the bench. “I thought I loved him, and I thought he loved me.” I almost whispered the last part, but I know he heard me still. “It’s funny how that worked out, huh?”

He blew smoke from his mouth, turning to face me afterwards. “I’m sorry, Starr,” Looking over at him, I was confused. Did he just say he was sorry—to me? “I’m sorry we treated you so bad back then. You didn’t deserve it.”

“Why are you sorry, Johnny?” I asked him. “You never treated me bad. You just didn’t say anything to me.” I mumbled. “Trust me, I welcomed your silence with open arms, dude. It was a lot better than being talked down to.”

“I still feel bad about it. I’ve had five years to think it over, and I realize just how bad you had it with Brian.” He looked at me, regret in his chocolate eyes. “When you came in that day, demanding a divorce, I kind of felt bad for him at first. I mean his marriage was ending and with it, his son was going too.” He shook his head. “But he deserved it. He really fucking deserved it, running around with Michelle behind your back. I don’t know what he saw in her that he didn’t see in you, but I do know that he kicked himself for letting you go.

“He wanted to go to Canada after you, but Val and I told him not to because you were finally happy. It was around the time you were pregnant with Colton, and when he heard Val and Suzy talking about it, he kicked himself even more.” He shook his head again, a bitter laugh escaping his mouth. “I still don’t know why Matt or Zacky hated you. They really had no reason to. You did everything for Brian. You catered to his every need and granted his every wish, but the selfish bastard just wanted more.”

Watching Johnny’s face as he spoke, I could tell even he was disgusted with his band member. “I don’t think either of the three, especially Matt, ever expected you to stand up for yourself the way you did, but I knew it was bound to happen eventually. You weren’t happy.” He looked up to the sky as he spoke his next words. “And you were pregnant again, weren’t you?”

“I . . .” I bit my lip nervously, deciding it was best if I just get it off my chest for once. “I was going to have a little girl like I always wanted.” I smiled at the memory. “I was so happy, but I . . . I miscarried.” I sighed. “Brent found me on the floor, covered in blood, when he came to drop Dryden off. He rushed me to the hospital, where I saw them pull the remains of my little girl out. There was so much blood. She was so tiny—I . . .” I hid my face in my hands, hoping to stop the tears. “There was nothing I could do, Johnny. I killed my baby, just like I fucked my marriage up. I had no other choice but to go to Canada and stay with the only member of my family that still talked to me.”

“I know I lied, but I knew if I told Brian the truth, he would fight for me to stay, and as much as I wanted that at the time, I knew it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I understand completely why you did what you did. Brian was an ass; he deserved it. I’m just surprised you didn’t take half of everything he had.”

“I didn’t need his money, Johnny.” I replied. “Nor did I want anything he owned,” Stubbing my cigarette out, I threw it on the ashtray on a nearby table. “Sanders may have viewed me as a gold-digging whore, but I was quite the opposite. I didn’t want Brian for his money or because he was famous. I’m not that kind of person. I’d rather work for what I want than get it for free.” I told him. “Besides, I had more than enough money of my own in a separate bank account. My father may have disowned me, but he never stopped my access to the bank.”

“That makes sense.” He nodded. “How about we start over? As friends,” He stuck his hand out for me to shake. “Deal . . . ?”

I eyed his hand for a moment before letting a smirk spread across my cheeks. “I thought we already were, Seward."