Frans King is a modern day popstar who lives his life on the outside as if everything were perfect. But, inside, he faces the tumult of an emotional typhoon.
His father and his record company force him to live a faux life in order to support a good...
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"You're not alone We'll brave this storm Let's face today You're not alone." - BlackVeilBrides
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Frans was burning with anger and hurt. His mind was a fuzz and the city was a haze. He knew that he needed to park his car somewhere and get out of it before he crushes his Lamborghini to somewhere. Or worse, hurts someone else.
He parked his car next to an old park what that looked dark and empty. Few years back the citizens built another, more modern park and people didn't came to this one anymore.
He locked his dark car and marched to the lake that was located in the heart of the park. Frans felt the pain and anger pumping in his veins, searching a way out, a release of some kind. He screamed and kicked an old trash can, it fell over with a metallic thud and rolled down the hill into the black lake.
He was breathing hard, not feeling anything but anger and betrayal. The few people who had walked by him scurried away. In the darkness of night they did not recognize the world famous popstar, and fled from his wrath.
Frans gripped his hair, letting out a noise something between a sob and a laugh. He was just so full of emotions, he could feel the anger as it pumped through his veins, through his heart and filled his mind with it.
With red hot anger.
He felt the thumping of his heart and the way his eyes wanted to spill the unshed tears.
To avoid it, he pulled the roots of his hair stronger and forced his green and teary eyes shut. Taking deep breaths he tried to calm down.
It's okay. He has the control. He'll manage. Everything will be alright, right?
But he did not calm down. The anger kept ebbing and flowing, like tsunami waves. The anger felt odd to him, he was furious. How could his father let go so easily?
He had told him that if you truly love someone, you'll be one of the lucky people who will marry only once. And even underground they shall be tangled together.
Did he not love his lost mother anymore? Was this the reason he was away all the time? Because now he was happy and could fuck everyone who got their nails behind his credit card? It just disgusted Frans so much he felt sick to his stomach.
He yelled out in rage and frustration, punching the nearest tree to him. He did not feel the pain in his knuckles or the way blood bubbled over the small cut but he noticed the red blood on them.
