Hollywood Princess

Chapter 2: A Princess Rises and Falls

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TW: there is a paragraph containing SA in this chapter.

From the beginning I took after my Mom when it came to my looks, sharing her red hair, green eyes, freckles, and pale skin. My height came from my father's side, by the time I was four, I was the size of most eight-year-olds. I was tall and a bit gangly as a child, not truly growing into my frame until high school.

I'm not sure if what I experienced growing up could truly be called a childhood. I was often alone with Nanny Ann in our sixteen-bedroom estate. There were people around, it wasn't just me and Ann, but those people were always busy working. They didn't have time to play peekaboo with a toddler, they couldn't be bothered to kiss my boo-boos when I fell. That mostly fell to Ann, who despite being a lovely woman, was not my mother. Her affection after a time started to feel almost performative, like this is what's expected of her in X situation. There wasn't a true warmth behind it like a child receives from a parent they have bonded with.

My parents were around but never stayed for long, never more than a few months. They were always on to the next role, the next interview. They would spend some time with me when they were home, but a lot was still left to Nanny Ann. My Mother would help if I needed a change. She would bathe me and put me to bed. As I got older I was coached on how to present myself in public, and how to handle the public eye. From the time that I could walk without assistance, I was on the red carpet with my parents. At times it felt as if I was an accessory, to be shown off to the adoring masses.

Once I could consistently form cogent sentences, I was given my first acting role. At the tender age of five, I was given the leading role of Evie Stardew in the children's movie "Town in the Forest." It was a box office success, people turned out to see the little tyke that was the offspring of the Alexander-Cox acting dynasty. From then on my life was spent in the spotlight and being shuttled off to my next film. As you can imagine, it is a bit difficult to attend a traditional school when one is frequently gone for long periods. So a personal tutor was hired to allow me to keep up with my studies and keep me on track for what was expected of someone my age. I learned everything between takes, and between shoot days, so in reality I never truly had an off day for myself.

As I grew into my teenage years, Ann became less of a Nanny and more of a handler/personal assistant. She helped me with my schedule, she would tell me when I was needed on set when I needed to arrive for an interview. Do you need to get a hold of me? Call Ann. Any semblance of maternal warmth that I had gotten from Ann disappeared. She was my assistant now, not my surrogate Mom. I felt an ache where that tiny sliver of love used to be, I now well and truly felt alone. My parents were too busy, I was too busy, and there was no time for warmth and comfort.

As my body began to develop into a more womanly figure, the media's attention on me skyrocketed. Now that I was starting to develop, I was an object of lust. There was way more attention being paid to my appearance than ever before. I was constantly bombarded with inappropriate comments on social media sites, comments from grown men explicitly spelling out what they wanted to do to and with my body. It wasn't just the internet though, I became the subject of tabloid fodder as well.

I was constantly followed by paparazzi anywhere I went, and it got so bad that at the age of thirteen, I was forced to hire personal security. The security guards kept the photographers at bay, they couldn't stop them from taking pictures, but at least they weren't right up in my face anymore. When I turned fourteen, I finally had enough of the online harassment and deleted all of my socials. I just wanted to be left in peace, but apparently, that is not an option when you're the "gorgeous" daughter of two of Hollywood's biggest stars.

With my development, I started to get more adult roles, ones that unfortunately frequently sexualized me to get butts in seats. I was still young, I was fourteen, and I didn't know any better. Eventually, all of the online and media sexualization came to an all too common ending. At fourteen, I started "dating" my co-star Josh Mackey and we were enjoying spending time together as friends, or so I thought. We were now frequently featured in the couples section of tabloids and we became the teenage heartthrob couple that all teenagers idolized. We were frequent cover models of all of the most popular teen magazines.

Things went on like this for about a year before things took a turn for the dark. Teenage hormones raging Josh began to pressure me more and more for sex, he said it's what boyfriends and girlfriends do to prove they love each other. At fifteen I had yet to develop anything resembling sexual desire. I found my male co-stars to be attractive but that was it. I had no desire to explore any further beyond that. Even after a year of dating Josh, I had no sexual urge to be with him. I enjoyed just being together, and keeping each other company. The same could not be said for Josh, he was constantly harassing me for sex. When I said no, he would ask if I still loved him. Eventually, it became too much, I wanted to make him happy, and I thought I was in love.

One night we were on a shoot, and I went to spend time with him in the house the studio had rented for him. Like usual we chatted about work for a bit, and then snuggled on his bed watching "The Notebook." As we watched, he leaned over and started kissing me. He placed his hand on my leg and began to move it up my thigh. I was momentarily frozen, I didn't know what to do. He took that as a cue to continue. As his hand gripped the waist of my shorts, I came back to my senses pushed him off, and told him no. Once again he asked me why I didn't love him, and what was wrong with him. He said maybe we should break up because I'm obviously not into him.

In a panic of losing him, and worrying about what the tabloids would say, I reluctantly agreed to have sex with him. He smiled and told me how much he loved me, and now he was going to show me how much he loved me. Once again we began making out, his hands slowly removing my shirt as I began removing his. Very quickly we were down to just our underwear, and I blushed bright red as he removed his boxers. My face stayed crimson as I removed my bra and panties.

He told me how beautiful I looked, and I could see he was excited. Eventually, he asked if I was ready, and in a shaky voice, I said I was. From the start, all I felt was pain. Everything I saw and read said sex was supposed to be pleasurable, why was I in pain, why is it not pleasurable for me? Very quickly I asked him to stop, telling him he was hurting me, but my cries were ignored. He continued until completion and then rolled over back onto his side of the bed. He thanked me and told me he hoped it was good for me too.

All I could do was cry, I was in pain the entire time. After about thirty minutes of lying in a state of pain and shock, I heard light snoring coming from Josh. I was disgusted with myself and with him. How could I let him pressure me like that? I quickly slipped out of bed and redressed myself. I quietly left his house and got an Uber back to my rented house. I got home and immediately got in the shower, I felt dirty after what I had just done, I needed to be clean.

The reality of the situation fully sunk in while I was in the shower, and I just sat in the tub with my arms around my knees and sobbed. Once again I felt alone, who could I tell, who could I trust not to leak this to the media? The police were out of the question, sitting in a police station filing a report, an easy way to get spotted and speculation would spread from there.