Paparazzi My Heart

My Story

Katie's POV:

Do you really think I enjoy being a paparazzi? Yeah, because I really enjoy making people miserable and ruining their lives and sometimes their careers too. This is not a glamorous life. I do what I have to so I can stay alive.

Now, I have been assigned to distract Harry from his girlfriend and get him to cheat on her with me. It's a really horrible thing to do to someone but I really can't loose my job!

When you're in with the paps there is no room for mistakes.. I saw just the other day, the best pap on my team get in huge trouble for taking a blurry picture. It's 'dog eat dog' and everyone in this business has to be the best or else we don't get paid.

The only reasons I haven't quit is because I get paid a lot of money and this job is the only thing I've ever been good at. I usually have to pretend to be in love with someone so that they will look bad to the public. Sometimes I'm forced to make up rumors, but really, that's what the public wants, and what I'm forced to give them.

I have been a pap since I was fourteen and it's all I know how to do and be good at. As long as I can remember I have just looked at it as something I had to do.. It definitely beat the alternative.

I grew up with a prostitute for a mother and she never really cared about me. She was always high on basically all of the substances there were to offer. You name it, she did it on a daily basis. I was born on a cold winter day in the back room of a crack shack. My mom just referred to me as 'little whore'. I never particularly disliked the name because I had no idea what it meant, I just knew it was my name.

After I turned five, the "clients" my mom had took an interest in me, and she saw it as a chance for her to make more money for drugs. I was raped repeatedly over and over again. I made her a lot of money though and that's all she cared about. She ripped my whole childhood away from me. I didn't even get to go to school.

Along with being physically and sexually abused all my life, I was mentally abused. All I was ever told was that I was a piece of shit burden and nobody would ever want me. That's all I knew because nobody ever told me any different.

After I turned thirteen I got pregnant for the first time. I was so happy about it and I was determined to treat my baby better than my mom treated me. But I never got the chance. One of the "clients" my mom made me sleep with was rough. I new not to get on his bad side, but one day I had had enough of him so I tried to walk out. My mistake! He beat me so hard that I miscarried. I was only three months pregnant. For two weeks I cried myself to sleep.

The day I turned fourteen I left. I was sick of the men, I was sick of the abuse I was sick of all of it! But I had no life skills, no where to go, and I didn't even have a name. All I knew was that I couldn't take any of it anymore.

The night I left it was raining. Weak, cold, tired, and hungry, was all I could really understand. I slept in a bush. I was so cold and I cried myself to sleep.

The next morning I woke up to the rustling of the bush next to me. I was terrified. Screaming I got out of the bush and ran into a nearby ally. I was there the whole day. When night came I checked to see if the stranger was gone. They were. I went back to my bush and slept.

Two weeks went by and the bush became home to me. I even decorated it with stuff I found on the sides of the street. For once in my life I felt happy. I became more comfortable sleeping in the bush by then. One morning I woke up again to rustling in the bush next to me. This time instead of being afraid, I felt I had to defend my new home. I get out of the bush and start to yell at the trespasser and try to scare them off.

For some reason the trespasser found it funny that I tried to shoo him off. He just sat there an laughed at me. It was probably my small figure and immature speech that set off his fits of laughter. It might have also been the fact that he was only like four years older than me though.. He ignored me chuckling to him self as I grew more and more livid.

"What do you think you are doing in my home you dick licker?!?" I scream into his ear.

Amused, he calmly turns to me and says, "What are you doing living in a bush little lady?"

I explain how my mom is a prostitute and never really cared about me.

Long story short he took me under his wing, gave me a home, a career, and a little thing called hope. I owe him much gratitude and most likely my life too. He gave me the name Katie. I don't know why but I never really questioned him about it because I figured it was better than 'little whore'.

A year after I went to live with James I found out my mom was dead of drug overdose. I was relieved. I remember saying " Its about fucking time that waste of air and space died!" It was like how I should've acted about a stranger dying, but not my mom.

I was only seventeen and I felt all alone in the world and I had no family that I knew of and I didn't have friends either.. All I had was James; All he had was me. But that all changed after I started to do the "big girl" work.