The Lucky One (Lisa Cimorelli Story) #Wattys2016

Castle Walls

Lisa's POV

Present day, 27th of August 2017

The paparazzi were still outside the building waiting for any flashes of me and it was devastating me. I stared worried through my windows and observed the actions outside the facility. I'm not talking about four to five paparazzis, I'm talking about thirty, at least. I sighed, sat on a fancy chair and looked around my new room. The management decided to put me in a place called The Dunes, it's in East Hampton in New York. A rehab place, for alcoholics, drug abusers and mental patients. How the mighty have fallen...

I already feel like I've lost everything and I honestly mean everything...I left everything that was real, good and true in Los Angeles and came into this hell hole right in New York. This city is not such a innocent place after all, it's kind of the city of sin. But it depends on the person too...I did good, until it sucked me into my worst decision and I'm not blaming anyone at all, it's all my fault. I pushed away everyone that cared about me, but kept the people that were stabbing me right in the back. The anger inside of me started boiling and out of pure anger I grabbed some kind of a really little statue, looked up and saw my reflection in the mirror, the anger rushed through my veins and I threw the little statue in the mirror, causing it to shatter in a million pieces. I couldn't do anything else, but started yelling and crying at the same time hysterically, the sobbing became really loud and tears flooding down my cheeks, caused black stains all over my cheeks.

"Lisa? Are you okay?", someone held me, as I realized that I was already kneeling on the floor, feeling anger and sorry for myself. The person behind me held me tight, but it caused me to be even more emotional, after all of this I simply blacked out.

"Where am I?" I saw a blurry vision of someone, I don't know if I even said the words or just straight out mumbled them, but all I knew is that I was lying in a bed in my room, which was really comfy.

"I'm Andrea and this is Derek," two still blurry people introduced themselves.

"I'm...I'm Lisa Cimorelli," I quietly mumbled and grimaced a bit when Derek draw back the curtains and the light shined right into my face, it was just to bright...

"We both know that," Andrea, a black woman in her mid-thirties chuckled.

"You're famous, remember?" Derek, a white male around my age said.

"Please, can you not remember me about all of that? It's just too much already..." I sighed desperately and shook with my head, Andrea and Derek both nodded understandingly.

"So are you two like my new best friends?" I tried to crack a joke.

"Well dear Lisa, we are both of your therapists and we're going to try to fix you and hopefully we succeed," Derek replied with a big positive smile on his face.

"So, how can you cure a patient who is a alcoholic, drug addict and possibly a mental patient?" I asked hopelessly shrugging, tears already visible in my eyes.

"With love and patience," Andrea replied, "I haven't received that in quite a while," I said and now the tears started streaming down my face.

"We're going to fix that, remember?" Derek now sat on my bed and held my hand, I nodded tiredly and rather stayed silent.

"I guess so,"

"We are your therapists, so you know what comes next, right?" Derek asked me, trying to make it clear.

"I went to college at 14, so I think I'm smart enough too know!" I replied curtly, Andrea just sighed deeply and rolled with her eyes.

"See," she then pointed at me, "that's why I can't even put up with these snobby California gurls," she whined in her ghetto voice.

"Oh, go choke on a bagel!" I replied annoyed and tried to look tough.

"What is that even suppose to mean, you little white girl?" she started laughing back, oh God...are you joking with me?

"Little white girl?" I now raised my voice, "I'll show you a little white girl!".

"Calm down Cimorelli, she's just messing with you!" Derek tried calming me down.

"I need some peace and quiet, can you please go out," I demanded, but at the same time tried to sound pleasant.

"Your little ass really needs to calm down a bit, see you later whitey," as she said that I just groaned...are therapists really like this? They now both left and I just need to think straight.

Everyone thinks that I have it all, but it's so lonely living behind these castle walls. My lovers, friends and everyone I trusted left me. Would anyone even care if I would disappear and never came back? I'm all alone, I just feel so alone...I haven't talked to my family in almost two months and it's driving me crazy. They don't know about alcohol or addictions or anything else and the thing, that they will find out everything through tabloids, is making feel depressed. What if they leave me? Without them I don't have anything left anymore.

I had it all honestly, I'm not saying I don't anymore, but I had the things an ordinary person couldn't even dream about. I had a butler, a maid a mansion, the belief was that I was living out a millionaires fantasies, with a Ferrari and a Lamborghini in the driveway. Those things came in as an exchange of a sane man's sanity and drove me insane. The Grammys weren't enough, I just had to have it all. If someone could just see things threw my eyes, they would see the agony.

It damaged me to my cores and still is, I seemed alright in front of some people, but the damages caused problems with my family. I thought I was more than anyone else, I started doubting in everyone, but at the same time raised myself as the most important person. I would dare someone to walk in my shoes, it would kill them. It seems like a glamorous life, thought the eyes of amateurs, but cameras don't see beyond the walls of the smiles. But I would lose every benefit of all that accomplished, if my kids wouldn't be happy with all of it, so why would the things I did be more important of the persons I've raised.

So excuse me now, if I don't kiss the hand that slapped me in the face, I'm starting to realize that life is more important than hit records. You can't see the castle full of wales, right until it falls. Nobody knows I'm so alone, they say money is freedom, but I don't feel that at all, I feel trapped instead.