The make-up man was called Tray. He gave me his number and told me to text him later to talk more about the man in black. The news reporters and camera men ran down the hall and bust through the door. The lights were all over me again and I was hyperventilating. Tray covered the cameras and told them to turn them off. I smiled wide. At the start of this terrible afternoon, this man meant nothing to me, but now it feels like I've known him for years. The cameras were shut off and I walked towards the man with white hair who left a bruise on my arm from grabbing me. "I can't do this. I can't go public about my story in front of over a thousand people. It's too much. I don't want to be recognized in the streets and questioned. I hope you understand my choice and I don't care if you don't either." I walked out of the studio without hesitation and no turning back. I stumbled down the road and about a mile and 20 minutes later i arrived at the door.
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