Stages of The Heart- Ellie Morch

Chapter 7: The Drama Unfolds

By the time Erica woke up the next morning, the storm had already hit. Her phone buzzed incessantly on her bedside table, vibrating against the wood like a persistent alarm. She groaned, still groggy from last night’s chaos, and reached for it, half expecting to see a few texts from Lana or her agent. But as soon as her fingers swiped across the screen, she knew it was worse than she’d imagined.

Notifications flooded her phone—Twitter mentions, Instagram comments, news alerts. The video of last night’s confrontation had gone viral. It wasn’t just circulating in her social circles; it had exploded across the internet. Every gossip site and entertainment blog seemed to have picked up the story. Some headlines were salacious, others downright cruel.

“Erica Young in Club Brawl: Diva on the Rise?” 
“New Hollywood Starlet Gets Physical with Fans.” 
“Actress Erica Young Has a Meltdown: Who's to Blame?”

Erica’s heart sank as she scrolled through the comments beneath the articles. The internet was brutal, as it always was, but seeing her name dragged through the mud felt like a punch to the gut. She had been in the industry long enough to know how quickly public opinion could turn on you, but nothing could have prepared her for the avalanche of negativity she was now facing.

She opened Twitter, and her feed was a minefield of comments—thousands of strangers weighing in on the video, each one more vicious than the last. Some people defended her, but those voices were drowned out by the tidal wave of criticism.

“Who does she think she is? Just because she’s in a few movies doesn’t mean she can act like a spoiled brat.” 
“Typical entitled actress. She couldn’t handle a little attention from fans.” 
“Honestly, if she didn’t want to be touched, she shouldn’t go to clubs. What did she expect?”

Erica felt her chest tighten. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, itching to respond, to defend herself, to explain that she hadn’t “freaked out” or “overreacted” for no reason. But she knew better. Engaging with trolls online would only make things worse. The internet didn’t care about the truth; it cared about spectacle, about drama, and right now, she was the star of the latest one.

Her phone rang, startling her out of her thoughts. It was her agent, Carol. Erica took a deep breath before answering, already bracing herself for the conversation she didn’t want to have.

“Erica,” Carol’s voice was sharp, businesslike. “We need to talk.”

“I know,” Erica said, her voice thick with exhaustion. “I saw the videos.”

There was a pause on the other end, and Erica could hear Carol exhaling deeply. “It’s bad. The media is running with it, and the public is eating it up. We need to get ahead of this, fast. Damage control.”

Erica rubbed her temples, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on her. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said quietly. “Those guys were harassing us. I just defended myself.”

“I know that,” Carol said, her tone softening slightly. “But you know how these things work. The narrative is already out there. If we don’t handle this carefully, it could stick, and it could hurt your career.”

Erica closed her eyes, feeling a wave of frustration and helplessness wash over her. It wasn’t fair. She’d spent years building her reputation, working hard to be taken seriously in the industry, and now, one night at a club could unravel all of that.

“What do you suggest?” Erica asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“We’ll need to release a statement,” Carol said, her voice regaining its professional edge. “You can’t stay silent on this. We need to get your side of the story out there, but in a way that doesn’t come off as defensive or aggressive. Apologize for any misunderstanding, explain what happened, and emphasize that you respect your fans. The usual.”

Erica hated this part of the industry—the damage control, the public relations maneuvering. It felt so disingenuous, so calculated. But she knew Carol was right. If she didn’t address this head-on, the narrative would spiral out of her control.

“Okay,” Erica said reluctantly. “I’ll draft something.”

“Good. And one more thing,” Carol added. “Stay off social media for a while. It’s only going to make you feel worse.”

Erica hung up and stared at her phone, the screen still buzzing with notifications. She knew Carol was right—reading the comments, letting the negativity seep into her head, it would only drag her down. But it was hard not to look, not to feel like the world was against her.

She tossed the phone onto her bed and buried her face in her hands. How had it all gone so wrong? Last night had started off so innocently—a night out with Lana, a chance to escape from the pressures of her career for a few hours. But now it had turned into a PR nightmare, and Erica wasn’t sure how to climb out of the hole that had been dug for her.

A knock on her bedroom door made her look up. “Come in,” she called out weakly.

Lana stepped into the room, a worried look on her face. She was holding her phone, clearly having seen the same barrage of headlines that Erica had. “Are you okay?” Lana asked, sitting down beside her on the bed.

“I don’t know,” Erica admitted. “It’s all blowing up, and I feel like I’m losing control of everything.”

Lana frowned. “Those guys were the ones in the wrong, not you. I was there, I saw it. You stood up for yourself, and you shouldn’t feel bad about that.”

“I know,” Erica said, her voice breaking slightly. “But the media doesn’t care about that. They’re already painting me as this ‘diva’ who couldn’t handle a little attention. It’s like they want me to be the villain.”

Lana sighed, glancing at her phone. “Yeah, I’ve seen the comments. People are being horrible.”

Erica swallowed hard, trying to keep her emotions in check. “I didn’t sign up for this. I mean, I knew the industry was tough, but I didn’t expect to be crucified for just trying to defend myself.”

Lana put a comforting hand on Erica’s arm. “This will blow over. People have short attention spans. In a few days, they’ll move on to the next scandal.”

Erica wanted to believe that, but the knot in her stomach told her it wouldn’t be that simple. Hollywood had a way of latching onto stories like this, of dragging them out and spinning them into something bigger than they actually were. And once a narrative was set, it was hard to shake it.

She sighed, leaning back against the pillows. “I just don’t know how to handle this. I’m not used to being in the spotlight for something like this.”

“You don’t have to handle it alone,” Lana said firmly. “You’ve got people who believe in you, people who know the real you. The internet trolls? They don’t matter. They don’t know you.”

Erica nodded, though the pit in her stomach remained. She knew Lana was right—her real friends, her family, her team, they were all on her side. But the weight of public opinion was hard to shake, and the fear that this incident could define her career gnawed at her.

“I just wish I could go back and change it,” Erica said quietly. “I wish we’d never gone to that club.”

Lana sighed. “You can’t change it, but you can control how you respond. Don’t let this define you. You’re more than one stupid night at a club.”

Erica looked at Lana, grateful for her friend’s support, but still feeling the crushing weight of the situation. The media had always been a part of her world, but now, for the first time, she felt like it was turning against her. And in a city where reputation was everything, she wasn’t sure how to navigate the fallout.

She reached for her phone, already dreading what would come next—the PR statements, the interviews, the endless scrutiny. But before she could even begin drafting a response, she saw another wave of notifications light up her screen. Another headline, another viral tweet, another avalanche of negativity.

And as she sat there, staring at the screen, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was just the beginning of a much bigger storm.