JOANN BLANCHETT

You're an Accident

FIVE YEARS AGO [Two days after Joann's twenty first birthday]

JOANN'S POV

"Thank you, London!" I screamed into the microphone; my voice barely heard over the loud crowd. The excitement overwhelmed me. Sometimes, I couldn't even hear myself over the cheers of my fans. They were the reason I stood on that stage, living my dream.

After the show, I went into the dressing room, still buzzing from the performance. I saw my mom, who was also my manager, sitting on the couch near the mirror, absentmindedly twisting a bracelet around her wrist. I could tell she was lost in thought. This was her way of showing that something was on her mind.

She always did this whensomething was bothering her—lost in thought, fingers fidgeting with herbracelet as if the rhythm of her twisting and turning could somehow untanglewhatever weighed on her mind. I felt a familiar ache of concern. "Mommy, you,okay?" I asked softly, stepping closer. She tensed a bit, her eyes flicking upto meet mine before she hesitated.

"Um... I'm fine, J," she started, but I could hear the uncertainty in her voice. "Your dad called me a few minutes ago..." The way she trailed off sent a chill down my spine. My father's calls were rarely good news.

"And?" I prompted, bracing myself for whatever bombshell was about to drop.

I felt my stomach drop. Just an hour ago, I was riding the high of my performance, the sweat barely dry on my skin, and now my father was demanding I rush back home. "What's so important?" I asked, unable to keep the frustration from seeping into my voice.

"I don't know, J," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. but I could see it in her eyes - she knew more than she was letting on. It's always like this with my father. He pulls the strings, and my mom gets caught in the middle, forced to deliver his messages without having any real say in the matter.

I wanted to press further, to demand the full story, but years of experience have taught me it's pointless. When my mom is sworn to secrecy, she becomes a vault. No amount of questioning will make her spill the beans. It's one of the things I admire about her, even if it drives me crazy sometimes.

As I wiped away the last traces of glitter from my face, I caught my mom's reflection in the mirror. The worry lines around her eyes seemed deeper than usual, and I felt a pang of guilt. She always tries so hard to shield me from the harsher aspects of this industry, often at her own expense.

"I guess we better start packing," I said, forcing a smile onto my face. Mom nodded; relief visible in her expression now that I wasn't pushing for more information.

As we began gathering my things, my mind raced with possibilities. Whatever my father had planned, I knew it would be a challenge. But as I glanced at the pile of fan letters on my dressing table, I reminded myself why I do this.

Taking a deep breath, Isteeled myself for whatever was coming. I've faced my father's schemes before,and I'll face them again. Whatever he has in store, I'll meet it head-on - justlike I do every time I step on that stage.

After the show, once everything was cleaned up, we finally headed back to the hotel. As we walked through the lobby, the weight of the night began to settle on me. My parents didn't know that I was the Biscuit Minor, the world-famous business tycoon; to them and my friends, I was simply Joann "a weird-ass cool introvert" Blanchett. It felt like I wore two masks—one for the world, and one for the people I loved most.

The truth was, my relationship with my dad had always been rocky. He was relentless in his ambition for me, pushing me toward a life of acting like my mom. It had started when I was just three years old; he'd drag me to auditions, the bright lights and high stakes turning me into his little performer. Thankfully, my mom and friends were always there, helping me escape whenever I actually got selected for a role. It was our little conspiracy against Dad's ambitions.

But that relentless cycle continued until I turned seven. I can still picture that day vividly: my seventh birthday, and instead of cake and candles, I found myself at yet another audition. The room was filled with kids—some looked older, some were still in diapers. When my name was called, the anticipation in the air felt suffocating. I could feel every pair of eyes trained on me, and I'd never been more terrified in my seven years of existence.

What happened next was both a disaster and a triumph.

As I stepped into thespotlight, the anxiety overwhelmed me, I just... snapped. Tears started flowing.I began to cry uncontrollably, and before I knew it, I was throwingthings—pens, papers, anything I could grab. In that chaotic moment, Iaccidentally shoved a kid who fell onto a camera, the shattering of glass sliced through my panic, a sharp reminder of the chaos around me.

I can still picture the scene vividly: Papers scattered everywhere like confetti at a party gone wrong, and the cameraman yelling at my dad and some other guy in suits, and then there was my dad's face - a mixture of shock, anger, and disbelief that I'll never forget. I could feel the eyes of every adult in the room burning into me, and the embarrassment washed over me like a wave.

I realized in that instantthat I had crossed a line I couldn't uncross. All I could think was how muchtrouble I was in. The giggles and whispers of the other kids faded into thebackground, replaced by the sound of my heartbeat thrumming in my ears.

At that moment, I knew this wasn't just a mess; it was a climax of everyaudition, every expectation that had been heaped onto me. I felt trapped in alife I didn't choose, and as I stood there amidst the wreckage, tears streamingdown my face, I silently vowed to find a way out. This chaotic explosion was mybody's way of rebelling against a future that felt suffocating.

When we finally got back home, the familiar sounds of laughter and chatter filled the air. Ellie and Taylor were there, along with my mom, and for a moment, the warmth of their presence eased the tension that had settled in my chest. I made my way to my mom's side, eager to share the chaos of my audition—how I had cried, thrown things, and created a mess that felt symbolic of my struggle.

But just as I began to recount the story, my dad's voice cut through the room like a knife. "Why are you doing this? You don't know how much you're hurting me." he bellowed, his face flushed with anger. "I want you to become a millionaire, to have a great life and family, but all you've done is play soccer, drums, and sing!"

I shrink back, feeling small and insignificant under the weight of his disappointment. His next words hit me like a physical blow.

"You don't realize that most people who do things like you are not successful," he spits out, each word dripping with disdain. He took a deep breath, I could feel the daggers of his disapproval piercing my dreams and passions, leaving them in tatters.

"An actor will always have that respect and power."

As he calmed slightly, he looked straight into my eyes, and I felt a chill run down my spine. The next words that came from his mouth, the words no child should ever hear from a parent, words that will haunt me for years to come: "You're a heartless little devil who doesn't even know what makes her dad happy. You always give him disappointment." he snarls, his voice filled with venom. And then, the final blow: "And now, I think that you're an accident."

I could feel the world around me begin to crumble, the love I had always sought from him twisted into something I could never comprehend. I wanted to scream, to cry, to fight back against the unfairness of it all. But instead, I felt small and trapped, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a heavy blanket.

Suddenly, I jolted awake, heart racing, gasping for breath. It took me a moment to realize I was safe in my bed, the shadows of that nightmare still clinging to the edges of my mind. I glanced over at the nightstand; the clock read 6:45 AM. Relief washed over me—there was still enough time to gather my thoughts and get ready for my flight.