Image Is Everything

Chapter One; The Breakdown and Breakup

Ariana’s POV;

 

“Ariana Grande goes berserk and strikes a body guard, this story after these commercials.” the talk show host cut to commercial

 

I switched the TV off, tears swelling up in my eyes.

I let out a soft sob as the tears streamed down my face

 

“Ari…” My manager knocked on my door

 

“Go away!” I yelled, my sobs growing louder

 

“Ariana please let me in.”

 

“NO!” I threw a vase at the door, “leave me the fuck alone!”

 

I fell to the floor, sobbing and clinching a pillow

 

I haven’t been in control of my life lately.

My management has been telling me what to do every second of the day.

 

Why not do something I can control?

 

I grabbed a new pencil sharpener from my purse.

 

Since I write songs, (None that the public will ever hear) I keep paper, pencils, and an eraser and pencil sharpeners in my bag all the time.

I also grabbed the pocket knife my grandfather gave me when I turned 16.

 

Pulling out the screwdriver part, I unscrewed the screw in the pencil sharpener, causing the blade to fall into my hand.

 

I looked down at my left wrist, heart beating fast

 

I pressed the blade to my skin and applied pressure then dragged it across the unscarred skin.

 

The blood rose to the surface causing me to feel a sense of panic mixed with comfort. The comfort outweighed the panic and i made several more marks.

 

I grabbed a tissue and wiped off the five cuts i had just made

 

I stood up and grabbed the first aid kit out of my dressing room and took the gauze out and wrapped my wrist up, then grabbed the clear tape and taped the gauze.

 

I threw on an oversized sweater and some black tights

 

‘You should call Demi. She can help.’ A voice of reason bounced around my head

 

I shook it off. If I told Demi what I had done, she’d want me to seek professional help, and that’s not what my management wants in the news.