Your 21

I own nothing that is Instant Star. Sadly, I do own many of the experiences that this story contains. I will only say this once: please respect ratings. This fic has been rated M for extremely mature and dark themes, as well as future self-injury (I truly apologize for any and all triggers). I do not glorify any of this behavior, and if you or someone you know engages in self-destructive behavior of any form (there are many, many types), I urge you to get help. I do not write of these things because it's "in" to be dark and disturbed, but because I've found it to be extremely cathartic for me. And if I can help even one person realize that there is hope beyond the despair they find themselves surrounded by, then I have done more than I could ever hope for. Please realize that at no point in this will I include A/N in the text of the chapter, nor will I threaten to stop writing if I don't receive reviews. I truly write for myself. I do hope that you find some enjoyment in it. And if you feel urged to leave me a review, be it constructive, positive, or critical, then I appreciate your input. If you do not feel a need to review, than that is your decision and I feel no need to beg you to do so. Oh, and for all the dark, there will be light – eventually.

"Midway along the journey of life,

I woke to find myself in a dak wood,

For I had wandered off from the straight path."

-Dante Alighieri's Inferno

One: Silent When I Would Used to Speak

Tommy always shied away from Jude, telling her that she was simply to young for him. Or that he didn't want to jeopardize their producer/artist relationship. Or by dating her sister, trying to make her hate him. But nothing he did worked.

Until he left. For good.

Stood her up for their first 'real' date.

And didn't come back.

Oh how he would be the undoing of her.

She got drunk in Berry. Actually, she got drugged in Berry. GHB'd to be exact. She also lost her virginity in Berry. It was easier to pretend that it was just 'lost', not stolen. Brutally, painfully stolen from her.

She lost so much that night. So much more than Tommy or her virginity.

She lost herself. To an obsessed 'Fan'. She didn't sleep for days. Every time she closed her eyes, there he was. With every picture the paparazzi snapped, she was reminded of the sick pictures the Fan took and sent her. There could never be silence, or she'd hear the Fan voice whispering. Worst of all, she couldn't speak. She'd open her mouth, but no words would come out, except when she was alone – and even then it was just hoarse and ragged cries.

Well, there was one word that would always come to her lips. Tommy. She'd screamed for him that night, hoping that he would come to her rescue. But Tommy didn't come, and it had just made the Fan angrier. It had angered the Fan so much that he'd left her with a lovely parting gift. A thin, red and raised scar that ran diagonally from beneath her right breast to just above her left hip bone.

When the Fan left her, broken (but without tears, she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry), bruised, and bleeding, he took the young and naive Jude Harrison who had won Instant Star and left a bitter and jaded young woman in her place.

Once the Fan was gone, Jude had crawled to the shower and collapsed on the floor while the hot water beat down on her, washing away all of the evidence. She'd laid there long after the hot water had run out, until she heard Mason and Jamie beating on the bathroom door. With that she had turned the water off, dressed herself, and left the hotel without saying a word to either of them.

For twelve long days, Jude was like the walking dead. She said nothing, ate next to nothing, and didn't sing a note or write a single lyric. All calls to her cell phone were ignored, text messages left unread and voice mails unheard. Once an hour, like a robot, she held down the number one on her keypad allowing her phone to dial Tommy. And once an hour, she would hear an operator announce that the cellular subscriber was no longer available.

All those around her assumed that her state was caused by Tommy. That her despair was because Tommy had willingly walked away from her. Kwest and the SME boys left her alone. Darius had stopped by on the second day to tell her that her album The Learning Curve had hit number one on the charts. When his news elicited no reaction from her, he had told her to take three months (less, of course, if she wanted to return sooner) and relax before starting work on her third album. After he left her room, where she laid buried under several heavy blankets despite the summer heat, Darius had gone and spoken to her father, telling him that she wasn't needed in the studio until she wanted to come back. Portia came by every day, bringing her a change of clothing and a stack of cds. Sadie came to her room every few hours, sticking her head in to see if Jude was sleeping. She never was.

On the thirteenth day, her salvation came from an unlikely source.

Patsy arrived and produced a bottle of Jack Daniels and two glasses. She said nothing as she poured the amber liquid into each glass, handing one to Jude and sitting down next to her in bed. Patsy tilted her head back and let the drink slip down her throat, and Jude followed her example, grimacing as it burned a trail straight to her stomach. They sat and said nothing. After several tracks from an obscure garage band known as The Fallen Stars (from one of Portia's stacks) had played, Patsy finally spoke:

"I was ten. The first time, I mean." Jude said nothing, but turned her head to look at Patsy – acknowledging her presence (anyones presence) for the first time since the Fan had left her. After a few minutes, Patsy spoke again,

"It really sucks to have something so precious taken away from you at such a young age. Hell, at any age. His name was Jack. He was my mother's boyfriend – and I use the term very loosely. Jack came to my bed one night. And he did to me what I know someone has done to you." At this confession by Patsy, Jude closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest. A subtle movement, but Patsy saw it for what it was – an admittance. She refilled their glasses, and they drank the liquor down again. It burned less the second time.

"After that first time, I didn't get out of bed for days. I just kept praying that I would die. Or at the very least, that I would never feel so completely violated again. Unfortunately, someone up there hates me. A week later, he did it again. And again. And again. And again. I started sleeping on the streets when I was 13. I still came home from time to time. Always hoping that mom would have kicked him to the curb. But he was there, waiting for me, each time. When I was 16, I took all my stuff. I've been living in my car ever since."

Jude still said nothing. Finally, she opened her mouth, she wanted to ask Patsy if it got easier. If she'd always feel like this. So raw and exposed. But no words would come.

"The answer is yes. It will. It's gonna hurt like hell, but give it time kid. I got through it, you will too."

Jude closed her eyes again, silently thanking Patsy for everything.

"You're welcome."

"You are aware of the irony here, right?" Jude finally spoke, her voice soft and unsure.

"What, this?" Patsy motioned to the Jack Daniels bottle, and Jude nodded. "Yeah, I suppose it is pretty ironic. Biggest bastard in my life had the same name as the man who gives me peace about it all." With that, Patsy slapped Jude on the knee and left – taking the bottle with her. "Oh, and Jude, I'll be back, this time tomorrow. I don't care if you shower, or change your clothes – we all know I'm not a huge fan of either – but you will be leaving this room." Jude nodded.

Patsy's revelation hadn't shocked her. Surprisingly, it had comforted her. And to be honest, it explained a hell of a lot about Patsy.

A few minutes later, Jude felt her eyelids grow heavy. Finally, she could sleep. She didn't know if it was the relief of finally having someone know what had happened, or if it was the alcohol, but she didn't care. Sleep washed over her, and she was grateful for it.