Truths

To End Before It Begins

A/N: Hello there new or continuing reader! If you happen to be a new passenger on the "Stars Are Born" Trilogy, then I highly recommend you read the story before this one called "Tabloids". Everything will be more clear if you read that story beforehand. For the continuing readers (if there are even any readers), just carry on your way.

          The scene was beautiful: a sun rising on the edge of the ocean's horizon, the white sand encompassing my whole body, and a highly hormone-stimulating, attractive young man lying right beside me. A part of me believed I was in a self-induced coma in which I was far off in a La La Land that could only be reached by near-death.

          It was too perfect to last.

          "Ena Calinberry," it was the voice of my mother. I stood up to see her figure storm towards me.

          "Oh my God, mom. I am so sorry," I tried to speak in hushed tones, but my mother's yelling had already shook Spencer awake.

          "You weren't answering your phone!" she continued, dangerously stopping right in front of my face. "Your father and I were so close to calling the police, had I not called your secret bodyguards first. One of them spotted you at a beach, with a boy, but he couldn't tell us which beach you were at.

          "He said you were in good hands, whatever the hell that meant, and didn't want us to intrude. Damned guards can't do their job right. So your father and I spent hours looking around beaches in the area. You know how many beaches there are around here? You know how large many of them are?"

          "I'm sorry mom," my voice cracked, as it always did early when I woke up. "I feel asleep."

          "Again? Are you going to blame some sleeping disorder for your irresponsibility? Perhaps I shouldn't have been trusting you so much," my mother then turned to Spencer Caldwell, pointing her finger accusingly at the boy who stood up from his sitting position. "And you. Aren't your parents concerned at all?"

          "Actually, I'm a legal adult, so my parents have trusted me to set up my own life with an apartment and everything. Just to prepare me for the real world and everything," Spencer explained.

          "A legal adult? Well Ena isn't," my mother stated.

          "I'm almost eighteen," I defended.

          "It was a mistake to let you have your independence. I'm firing all of your undercover bodyguards and going to watch over you like a hawk. Or maybe I shouldn't allow you out of the house at all." She made an ultimatum. My heart sank when I turned to see Spencer upset.

          "I'm sorry too, Mrs. Calinberry," he stared down at his feet briefly, but looked up at my mother to show that he meant it.

          "Go home, Spencer," she only said, forcefully taking me by the shoulder and dragging me to her car. I turned once to mouth an apology to the boy who was left standing alone on the beach.

          And then it occurred to me. If one of those hired bodyguards was able to hide so well last night to see me and Spencer, so could paparazzi. If those scumbag journalists were still there, not only would they have a scandalous tabloid about two young musicians sleeping together on a beach (God forbid they take that the wrong way), but they would also have a story of my mother practically exploding on me in fitful anger.

          Suddenly, the thought of staying in the house for a really long time didn't sound like that bad of an idea.

          Since that particular mishap, I was chained to my home like a criminal on house arrest. With the exception of career-related things, there was no such thing as a "breath of fresh, outside air" for me. Whenever I stepped foot past my front door, my mother kept her promise: she watched over me like a hawk. I felt a little pity for the secret bodyguards that my mother had hired and fired within the course of a few months. Whoever they were, seeing as I had not even met them once. For some odd reason, my mind concocted the idea of an army of bulky men in black suits and shades.