Paparazzi Boy

11. Help

"Belle?"

She jerked back to find herself looking at Max. His eyes were fixed on her and what she was doing. She was praying that he was an illusion her eyes were playing on her. Maybe she had taken too big of a dose.

"Max," she said, grabbing everything and throwing it back into her bag, "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

He nodded slowly, "Yeah, but I wanted to see you alone for a bit before the show. Anabe-"

"That's sweet, but I'm about to change into my first outfit and I'm a little busy so maybe-"

"Anabelle, what are you thinking?"

Silence was the only response she had for him.

"What was that just now?"

"What do you mean?"

His lips creased into a thin line, "Why the fuck are you doing that?"

She shook her head and tried to give him a light laugh, "It's not what you think you saw."

He stepped closer, "Anabelle, please don't lie to me."

She didn't want to push him away. With all the time they had spent together the last few weeks, he had grown on her. He was getting under her skin. But that was her mistake, not his. "Max, turns out that at the end of the day, it's none of your business."

He gave her a dry laugh, "You have to be kidding me."

"This has nothing to do with you."

"Why do you do this, Belle?"

She took in a deep breath and tried to think of a response, but nothing seemed like a good enough answer. Nothing she told him seemed sufficient. How could she lie to someone she had started to trust? She didn't want to lose him, but how could she make this situation better?

"It helps."

"With what?"

"My anxiety, being nervous all the time. It takes the edge off. It also helps with my appetite, so I'm not constantly hungry."

"But I just don't understand. You have it so good-"

"You don't know the first thing about what is happening in my life so don't pretend like you do."

"Anabelle, I would do anything to make you stop."

"There is nothing to stop."

"Are you kidding me?" This was the first time she had seen him raise his voice. She was taken aback, mostly because she didn't think he had cared that much about her. "You're fucking killing yourself! Give me that bag."

"No," she said, gripping the bag tightly and she fled to the other side of the room. She was beginning to panic. He couldn't take his away, he didn't know what it meant to her. "I can't, Max. Please just leave. Go away."

"You have a problem."

"No, I don't. Now leave before I call security."

He scoffed, "Anabelle, listen to yourself."

She shook her head and headed towards the living area, her bag still clutched in her hand. "Max, I'm asking you politely to leave. Don't get yourself involved in what you don't need to."

He stepped forward, just enough for her not to step back. "Let me help you." His voice was softer and calm. She didn't know what to do. "I can help you, you just have to let me."

Maybe she needed to hear him out. "How?"

He came closer, and kept coming closer until he was holding her wrist in his hand. She was shaking, but she couldn't tell if it was from the dose she had just taken or if she was extremely nervous that Max now knew what she did to keep her sanity or just the basic fact that he was so close to her. She wanted him to hold onto her forever. It was soothing - he was soothing.

"I'll do whatever it takes to make you stop."

"I don't want help."

"But you need it. Let me help you."

"What if I can't stop?" She whispered, finally admitting to herself and to someone else that maybe this wasn't a problem she could fix on her own. The past two years, she hadn't been able to stop. She couldn't imagine having to do it now. "I don't want anyone to know. No one can know!"

"Hey," he said calmly, now gliding her into him. He was caressing the back of her head as he held her close. "No one has to know. I'll help you. The first thing you need to do is give me the bag."

She looked up at him. She was trying not to cry. "I'm scared."

"I know. But I'm here and I'm going to help and I'm not going anywhere. Give me the bag."

She gulped and nodded, slowly handing him the bag. She didn't know what was coming next, but she was still shaking. She was more aware of her surroundings than she wanted to be. The thing she was scared about the most? She wasn't being completely truthful. The one person she had grown to trust and care for, and she couldn't bring herself to be completely honest with him.

He sat her down and talked to her for about ten minutes before they both decided they needed to get ready for the show. One thing she didn't mention to him? She had another tincan underneath her bed, inside a pillowcase. That was one she wasn't willing to give up, just not yet.

* * *

"Tell us how it happened, Belle. We want to hear your side of the story. What happened that night?" John was begging for more, and she wasn't sure how much more she could give him. She wanted to hold onto something, but he wasn't letting her.

"By that night, you mean-"

"The night you overdosed. You were all over social media. Tell us your version of events, not what's in the tabloids or what we've read on. Tell us what really happened that day, Belle."

"There's a lot to that story."

John looked down at his watch and nodded. "And we have all the time in the world."

"It all started with a lie."

"What kind of lie?"

"Max was lying to me."

John shook his head and urged her to continue. "About what?"

"He had a girlfriend back home. Well, maybe not girlfriend, but a girl back home that was waiting for him. And he never told me. So imagine my surprise when I spend every day and night with him and she comes for a visit."