*blinding camera flash*
"do you want everything that was ever denied to you?"
*another flash*
"do you want revenge?"
*flash*
"do you want power?"
*flash*
"over here!" one of the paparazzi, a short, balding, bearded older man, shouted, shaking me from my own head and drawing my gaze over to where yet another person could be seen snapping hundreds of photos of me.
I sighed, and sent the man a seductive air kiss.
smirking as he nearly dropped dead on the spot, his body frozen as I continued along the steps of the courthouse, and directly to the open back door of a limo.
"thanks Marcus." I offered with a smile as I patted the drivers incredibly bulky shoulder, and plopped myself onto the plush seating right before watching while he blushed, and shut the door.
instantly separating me from the swarm of hungry onlookers desperate to hear, see, learn, anything they possibly could from what I'd been there to do.
I groaned, closed my eyes, rubbed my temples, and slid down in the seat as I peeled the suffocatingly tight dress off of my body and flung it to the floor of the limo.
inhaling and exhaling deeply from sheer relief that I was finally out of the fucking thing.
but, even though I had a momentary victory, the events of today still weighed heavy on my mind, my shoulders, and it visibly dragged me down.
at least, according to all the already posted articles on this stupid celebrity tracker I had actively scrolling on the small tv screen pretty much right in front of me.
I clicked my tongue in annoyance as I leaned over, and pulled open a drawer where a leather jacket, a white shirt, and pink shorts sat neatly folded, waiting for me.
almost like my staff knew I needed something I was comfortable in after today.
I smiled while yanking them from the drawer, shoving it closed with my foot, and absentmindedly maneuvering myself into them as I stared out the tinted windows at the normal hustle and bustle of the city.
of people who were entirely unaware that I was here, that I existed right beside them, despite the limo.
I mean, we were in celebrity central for fuck's sake, to them, limos were a dime a dozen, and meant jack shit.
they were used to it, they were numb.
they couldn't have cared less.
I exhaled as I let out, "just like before." in a tone of unwanted reminiscence.
forced traversing of memory lane.
that, no matter how hard I tried, refused to leave me.
refused to give me a break.
I wanted to shout, wanted to scream, punch, kick, bite, destroy, something, anything!
just to get the feeling, out of my head.
I closed my eyes, tired, just, done, over absolutely everything that had brought me this far, everything that was still stopping me from enjoying what I'd fought so hard to obtain.
but, before I could further descend into this spiral, the limo had pulled into a secluded driveway of a house at the very edge of a normal, everyday residential neighborhood.
and, once it had, I smiled, thanked the driver via the intercom, and hopped out of the left, driver side door.
impatient as I hurried up the concrete walkway, to the front door, and into the house.
into the normal, average, absolutely nothing special or fancy, house.
where, instantly, the trouble of life outside, melted away, and was instead replaced by the warmth of my family.
the kindness of my mother, the dependability of my father, and the sometimes-unwanted presence of my older brother and sister.
to me, I'd take this over fame any day of the week.
to me, I'd quit my career in a heartbeat, if it meant I could stay here for the rest of my life.
and that's when I knew I was dreaming.
that's when I knew, nothing I'd seen so far, was real.
because, that day, didn't end happily at home.
that day, ended with me in a morgue, identifying four mutilated corpses with tears in my eyes.
I sighed as I woke up, and saw nothing more than the dark ceiling of my lifeless, unnecessarily expensive, high-end, top floor, penthouse apartment.
that, frankly, you're not here to learn about.
no.
for you, the apartment means absolutely nothing.
in fact, you couldn't care less about where I live.
I'm not THAT lucky, no, you, you're here to learn about how in the fuck this all started.
you're here to learn how I, a former 18-year-old boy, found myself so far removed from anything I'd ever found familiar.
and for that, well, for that I need to take you back in time give or take about 36 years.
I need to take you, to my eighteenth birthday, my FIRST, eighteenth birthday.
I need to take you to my suicide, my subsequent deal with the devils, and how I came to wake up in this world, in this mirror dimension that seemed to be hell bent on lying to my face, on deceiving a younger, incredibly naive me, into thinking that I truly had what I wanted.
so, with that having been said, welcome, to the shitshow that was, IS, my life.