" TESSA! TESSA!! How do you feel about losing the Kylie's Cosmetics contract?"

"Tessa! Is it true that you've been a drug addict since high school?"

" Are you going to get help?"

" New York Times would like to know if your parents are disowning you?"

"Don't answer any questions and keep walking!" my publicist, Sara, shouts in my ear.

The screams from the paparazzi are deafening and the continuous flashes from the camera's worsened my confused state.

My arms are aching from holding my jacket over my head in an attempt to shield myself from the bright flashes but nothing seems to be working.

I squint my eyes, peeking through the small bit of space I've allowed myself to navigate through.

Several emotions pass me in a matter of seconds when I see a familiar set of black gates caging in a posh, secluded area of London.

The only problem with my current view is that I can't see anyone standing behind those gates.

What did I expect? My parents to be standing at the gates, waiting impatiently for my arrival, holding up 'Welcome Home' banners?

So much for proving them wrong.

Showing them that I could go to New York, all alone, and make it in the modelling world 'scandal free'.

I was sixteen when I left home, promising my parents that I'd take up an online course, finish my education that way and work as a model also.

Like any other parent they were hesitant at first but I didn't back down from pestering them.

My pestering turned into begging until they finally agreed to let me go ahead with it.

Before I left I promised them that I would make them proud.

Three years later and I've returend. Only I have a feeling they will be anything but proud when they see me.

I cast another look at my surroundings. It was hard to believe that I was back in groggy London so soon.

Everything looked the same apart from me, what with being ten pounds lighter in weight and having hundreds of paparazzi hounding me.

"Quick! Get in!" Sara yells, her face bright red from all the screaming and dramatic pushing she had done today.

Her blonde hair, which is usually well kept, looks like a giant frizz ball.

I would have pointed this out to her but unfortunately the well being of Angela's hair is at the bottom of my worry list.

I get into a sleek, black BMW, instantly recognising it as my mothers. I half expect her to be the one in the driver seat.

But sadly, she isn't. Instead, a friendly man greets me, his eyes staring at me brightly.

"Hello, Miss Adams. My name is Solomon and I'm your mother's driver. Your parents are waiting for you at the house."

I nod, remaining silent. As soon as I shut the car door the noise from the paparazzi and their cameras fade out and seem like a lifetime ago.

I allow myself to relax against the cool, leather seat.

"We need to discuss appearances,Theresa.You have a week off to gather your thoughts and get into the right mind set.

Then on the 18th you're flying out to New York for an interview with Susan Meyer. She will ask you tough questions but she has the power of changing public opinion. She's on your side."

"Whatever." I turn away from her, putting on my sunglasses to hide my eyes.

I don't want to think about any interviews or any public appearances. At this moment in time I don't want anything to do with the life I'd left behind in New York.

"Are you listening?" Angela asks, completely oblivious to the lack of care my body language is exhibiting.

I murmured briefly, "Yeah."

"Okay. The good news is that you're still walking the lingerie show in December.

I've spoken to the producers and they have agreed to give you a chance because of your large fan following and the sheer amount of attention you receive but if they hear or see anything negative about you in the papers then they will terminate your contract.

Understood?"

"Yeah."

The car comes to a smooth stop. I open the door, not wanting to spend another second in the closed space.

"You will be good, won't you? It's only a week." Angela smiles lightly but the worry in her eyes is clear.

To reassure her I'm about to say I

promise but I'm suddenly reminded of how much I suck at keeping promises.

"I'll try," I settle on instead.

"Goodbye then," she replies, hugging me awkwardly.

I'm the first to let go. I step out of the car and wave at her. She rolls the window down, her cheeks red from the tears running down them and I feel myself getting a little choked up.

"Remember to be good,Tess!"

I open my mouth to thank her for everything she's done for me the last three years but the car starts and shoots away.

I looked down at myself, noticing how empty I was. No hand bag or suitcase, all I had with me were sunglasses and a mobile phone.

My dark hair is a mess from the long plane journey and my thin white shirt and blue jeans hang pathetically on my body.

I look a state.

It wasn't easy finding the courage to walk up the concrete steps attached to my parents' three-storey townhouse.

The familiar building is attached with happy childhood memories but that thought does nothing to calm my nerves today.

"It'll be okay." I tell myself as I press my finger against the buzzer.

No more than ten seconds later the sounds of heavy footsteps travel through the front door.

I manage a smile, recognising the familiar, chunky footsteps. Some things never change.

"Hello darling! How I missed you! Come in, it's absolutely freezing outside."

Celine, our housemaid since before I was born, grins at me and ushers me in.

"I've missed you too,Celine!" I reply, squeezing her tightly, afraid to let her go.

Celine always smells wonderful of fruit mixed with roses. A smell I never grew tired of. It's an added bonus she's quite a round woman. I never had to stress over her hugs being uncomfortable.

"You have nothing to worry about, Theresa. Come into the sitting room. Your parents are waiting for you."

I follow Celine inside, hating that she's walking so fast. All I want is to run in the opposite direction.

I hear my father's voice first.

"Where's Theresa?" He asks, casually enough but I am unable to relax .

"She's behind me, Mr Adams," Celine turns to me, smiling encouragingly.

I stand at the edge of the doorway, breathing heavily.