Maisy
Such a vast crowd of people before me, calling my name, so much love and acceptance sent my way, yet I’d somehow never felt more crushingly alone. It’s usually easy to feel the love these people have for me, how much they truly cared, what they'd be willing to do to protect me and keep me happy, but tonight it just felt different. As I looked down on the rows of faces, as my show was coming to an end, it became clear that they were all just strangers. None of them knew me - and I knew none of them. Even if I wanted to, it would never be. And that wasn't my fault, certainly it wasn't theirs. There was just this extra layer I had to carry around, now. If I let my guard down, slipped up, said the wrong thing, looked the wrong way, all of it would be fixated on and reported and recorded and replayed and misused. That was it, that was why. I had to hide myself away in an attempt to not be misused.
With a heavy sigh, I gave my final bow and bear hug motion towards the crowd and bounded to the side of the stage when I heard a voice soar, hollering, "LETS FUCK!"
Instinctively I turned and smirked towards the crowd, wanting to find this boisterous boy and tell him to bring it. The dirty words sent a plethora of throbs to pull against my core, damn why was I always so horny? I was intent on spotting this kid, but the lighting in the arena changed, breaking my trance as I quickly ran behind the curtains.
For a moment I tucked myself in a little corner, beside a pillar, I pulled my hands up and examined them with my eyes. These are just two hands, like anyone's. Like anyone out there in the crowd. The hands I've always had. If I tied a blindfold across my eyes, I'd still know these were my hands. But if I tied one across the eyes of that loud boy from the crowd, my hands could be anyone's, I could be anyone. To be me and to not want to be me, my hands turned to fists as I dug my fingernails into my palms. My nails had grown long, and the cry of pain was bright and immediate. I whimpered as the adrenaline mixed with my arousal and anger, I just wanted to break something, but my mom found me.
"Come on sweetie, let's get you to the hotel."
.
I sat in my room, alone. Parents in the room across the hall, bodyguard, Jon, in the room to my left. I layed on the bed examining the inside of my eyelids. Deep burgundy waves with a few floating wormholes, I rolled to my side and stared at the wall. A framed picture, a flowing landscape of flowers and clouds, but the colors were off and I instantly hated it. I got out of bed.
I threw on a plain black hoodie, pulled the hood over my hair, changed from my shorts and boxers to a gold thong and black sweatpants. I grabbed my phone and my room key and slowly creaked my door open to examine the hallway.
To the left the hall was long and silent, to my right there was an elevator and a stairwell, my room at the end of the hall, seemingly for an easy in and out, a quick escape.
The stairs would be my best bet. I had more control there than on the elevator with its automatic doors and thirteen floors to the ground. I was certain the lobby would be empty, maybe I could see if the restaurant was open and get a burrito and a soda, hell maybe even something sweet.
I held the door open and continued to watch my surroundings. When the hall remained abandoned, I silently stepped out and turned to shut my door with the quietest of clicks.
"Danger," my mind flashed as the elevator dinged, illuminating a thirteen in red. I was slow to respond, but I managed to turn back towards my door, hiding my face, hands groping pockets trying to recover my room key. I heard laughs and giggles from behind, high pitched whispers and stifled laughs.
“Maisy?” Someone questioned, as I continued my assaulted search for my damned key card. How had they found me?
"MAISY!” There seemed to be quite a few of them, and I couldn’t run now, so I turned towards the group with a smile.
YOU ARE READING
Maisy
RomanceHe told me to stop. But not an urgent stop, not the stop of a mother preventing her child from running into the street, not the stop of someone about to walk off a cliff. It wasn't clipped. It flowed. It flowed on and on and sank into his touch. Th...