Please excuse me for angsty Bella. A certain other brooding, delicious boy is not introduced just yet, formally.
Everything unfortunatley belongs to Stephenie Meyer.
Rated M for a reason.
The final rift played. And I smiled, I beamed adoringly, because this was my life. This was my ultimate moment of happiness and completion.
I looked out into the sea of people, the undercurrent of applause shaking the ground, the darkness illuminated by the nearly blinding spotlight pointing straight into my eyes. It was the greatest high imaginable.
My heart broke every time I looked out into the crowd. It was as if at that single moment, all of my senses, my whole being was concentrated inside the small arena. A single tear fell unwillingly and unknowingly. This was the last show, and I didn't know whether to jump for joy, or cry mercilessly.
With one final kiss thrown to the crowd, I made my way off the stage, nearly tripping over my own two feet. When everything else changed, one thing did not. I was still as clumsy as ever.
"BELLA .. BELLA! That was … amazing … you're best performance yet."
"Thanks Mike", I said, brushing by him, sweating and ready to pass out after the head rush I got every night onstage. I always tried not to be rude around Mike, but honestly, he was the definition of a groupie. Unfortunately, Alice, my costume designer, manager, control freak- best friend had hired him as a project assistant in designing and changing my outfits throughout the tour. She called him brilliant with a needle and thread. I called him annoying.
Making my way down the hallway I pushed past stage crew, dancers, blatantly ignoring their beaming stares, words of approval, heading towards the comfort of my dressing room.
Before I could step inside Alice had me in a bear hug. "Bella you looked so, so beautiful! I think the glitter on the hem of the white outfit caught the light perfectly, and your red heels … to die for. What did you think? So much better than your outfits were last week in Tokyo." She bounced onto the couch, a ball of energy, talking a mile a minute and patting the space next to her. No matter how many shows we did, Alice always possessed the same enthusiasm for each and every one.
"It was great Al," I sighed reluctantly sitting down, throwing my stiletto heels off, and curling up into a ball. "It's just, at this point I'm running on empty, we've been touring for the past year and I'm soo … soo done. I'm kind of relieved tonight was the last show. I'll miss it, I'll miss the music, but we both need a break, maybe a trip to Hawaii," I giggled.
"You…tired? But you're the indivisible pop sensation, 'The Swan.' You never get tired, remember?" Alice chuckled, swatting my arm, all wide eyed, and full of life, heading over to the bouquets of flowers along my vanity. She was as beautiful as ever, dark, short hair, pale skin, high cheek bones, short, thin frame, full red lips - but I couldn't help but notice the black circles under her eyes. She was exhausted
We'd been together, inseperable, for so long, in our own little bubble on the road. I couldn't imagine how life was before, or how life would be after.
Re-arranging a bouquet of orchids, she looked over suddenly shyly, "Uhm Bella … you wouldn't mind .. If I went out with Jasper tonight - I hate leaving you alone but, it's our four year anniversary and we've been moving around, you know, and he flew out especially for me."
My face fell. Jasper was Alice's fiancé, a small time musician from back in Forks that I introduced her to after we sung together at a small club nearly five years ago. I sometimes felt guilty, bad, pathetically responsible for keeping Alice away from him. He was a southern gentleman, and his laid back charm fit in perfectly with Alice's quirky, hyper personality. I knew they'd be married as soon as Alice was off the road for good.
"Of course you can go Alice" I frowned "You don't even have to ask me, I love Jasper. Happy anniversary by the way, you know how things are, or I would have gotten you a present, or at least have taken you out."
"Don't worry about it. Just being here seeing you perform every night is enough for a lifetime. There's knowhere I rather be." She smiled genuinely, hugging me tightly. "By the way, I left a bottle of wine, dropped off as a present near the door from some admirer, adoring fan probably" …. she lingered near the doorway before exiting, "are you sure you're going to be okay tonight, alone. I worry about you, you know. I hate leaving you."
"When am I not okay? Shut up, and go have some fun or something. Have Jasper knock you off your feet." I shot her a dazzling smile, got up, kissed her goodbye, nearly having to force her out the door as she looked back reluctantly, shooting me skeptical glances, before finally relenting.
Locking the door, I took the bottle of wine and a glass back to my perch on the couch, I settled in. The after high of my performance still keeping me upbeat, I allowed my eyes to soak in the dressing room. Noticing the heaping piles of gifts, Alice's costume racks, my eyes finally setting on the framed photograph of Alice and I.
We were younger, sophomore year at NYU, and we were smiling, happy, young, unknowing that one day we'd be in a whirlwind of my fame, my money, my music. I hated thinking about the past, and it was easy to forget that I was ever the mousy brown haired student in New York, dying to pursue music but too scared and shy and clumsy to have any hopes that I'd succeed. And even though my life was hectic now, and tiresome, It all came back to my love for my music, and my pure devotion to it in the end. And my unrelenting need to prove everyone wrong who ever doubted my ability, my potential.
But now I was Swan. I was avant garde-six number one singles in two years, 15 million in records sales, nominated for six Grammies. I was blonde, I was attention grabbing, and loved. I was known for my wild fashion, my wild partying. I didn't hold onto anything, except Alice, of course. And in the whirlwind of my life, it was so easy to compartmentalize my past, over look the unpleasent parts and forget everything and anything. It was like brown-haired Bella was someone in another lifetime. Someone weak. Someone sad, and trampled, and delusional…
Quickly shaking my head, and reluctantly breaking my trance on the photo, I picked up my phone, quickly dialing Jake's number.
Jake, part of the band Quilet, had somewhat of a similar tour schedule as me. Performing in the same arena tomorrow night, he had been in Tokyo since yesterday, and more than eager to get together with me so we could renew our frienship. I had known him since high school, back in my hometown of Forks, Washington. I never would have imagined that one day we'd both be traveling the world, on two very different yet equally famous paths.
To be completely honest, I didn't want to be alone at night. At night, I could think, and my mind wanders, and I just hated being alone. Jake was pretty, and funny, and easy, just blatantly easy to be around. He was like the sun, or like the most upbeat song. He was dark, and tall, and his entourage of screaming fans thought he was a bad boy, rocker, motor cycle, sex monster. Little did they know, he was a sweetheart- utterly laid back, down to Earth.
"Jake?" He answered on the third ring. "Hey Swan! Ready for a night out with the Jake-anator on the town I presume."
"Pshhh … more like are you ready for the Swan-anator, Jake. Can you imagine the headlines 'pops leading woman … and some guy .. spend the night partying it up in Tokyo."
"You've got to be kidding me Swan, your fame is miniscule in comparison to mine. Be ready in twenty minutes and meet my limo at the back of the arena?" Giving Jake a final reassurance of our plans, I got up pacing the room, throwing on my leather jacket, and shimmery leotard, with a pair of tall black heels.
I was going out. I was getting out. I'd make a scene, and I'd be relevant. My nights of touring were over, and I was going to eat it up while I could.
--
A half an hour later, I found myself propped up on a barstool, Jake sitting next to me, slowly sipping down my second drink of the night, our body guards nearby throwing us stern, serious glances of concern.
Apparently aloof, Jake turned towards me, his smile bright and mesmerizing .."so how do you feel now that the tour is over? Are you going to head back to Forks."
I nearly choked on my drink, eyes wide, gasping for breathe "No, no Forks for me. You know I just, I really hate it there Jake."
"Well Charlie's been asking me about you, and frankly, I can't get him off my back. He says he sees you on gossip sites, on the news, but that you won't call him."
Charlie was my father, stuck back in Forks, where'd he forever be while I was roaming the world. I'd been avoiding him, intentionally, worried he'd guilt me into coming home, or worried that he'd seen my antics of partying, drinking, craziness across the continents.
"Ugh Jake .. I'll call him … now that the tours winding down. He worries for nothing. He just doesn't understand what it's like to be busy, to be pulled in a million directions. He's just always been, well, .. Charlie… police chief … homebody." I scoffed, nervously, uncomfortable discussing my father, or Forks, or anything that wasn't here and now.
"Sure Bella. I'll let him know. Anyways, want to dance? I'm sure our guards won't be too happy but they'll get over it."
"Hell yeah!" I screamed, drink sloshing in hand, making my way to the dance floor, Jake trailing behind me clutched onto my waist.
As I finally reached the middle, I turned to Jake, breathless, smiling, full of life as the lights flashed across his face. We were so close, and the beat was thumping. And I could only think about how if I was back in Forks, I'd miss out on life. I was free.
Turning around mischievously, I pressed my back up against Jake, already moving to the beat. I felt his hand tightly around my waist, the other fisting my hair, moving it to the side, his breathes tickling my neck. I could feel Jake, lean, warm, familiar. I loved Jack, in a friend, familiar, sort of way. He could relate to me, and I to him. It was comforting, that someone from my past other than Alice could relate to me; be there despite the distance, the changes in myself.
I saw the sea of bodies, unfamiliar, comforting in my anonymity at the moment. Turning around to smile at Jake, something caught my attention.
A flash of bronze. In my peripheral. I froze. Not again.
I looked back in the direction, frantic, frantically worried, crumbling by the second. Hyperventilating. I was halfway across the world. I was different, I was unrecognizable. No way.
Until the bronze caught my eye again. I looked up at Jake. Noticing my expression, worry creased his brow. "Are you alright?
I was dizzy. I was lost.
"Yeah, hold on Jake .. I just … give me a second, okay?" I yelled over my shoulder, already making my way through the crowd, pushing, shoving.
"HEY AREN'T YOU .. SWAN?"
"YEAH IT'S HER!"
"OH MY GOD!".
I pushed my way through, ignoring the shouts.
I had the seen the expressions countless times before. Adoring eyes, glazed over, mouth hanging open, and verbal garbage attempting to get me to stop.
They loved me.
They were all the same.
They were empty, devoid. They didn't know me, didn't know what I had been. Could never truly understand.
I followed the bronze head in front of me.
I pushed the shiny blonde locks over my face, until I'd made my way to the wall out of the claustrophobic sea of bodies. Leaning, exhausted and panting against the rail, I watched the bronze head stop in front of me, drink in hand, stopping to talk to other friends waiting for him by the door.
I wanted to .. I needed to go over. My mind was telling me, no, that this was a terrible, terrible idea. But the bronze, unruly head of hair was haunting me, I was in Germany for hells sake, and it was still following me. Everywhere I stopped, I saw him. I saw him no matter what continent I was on, or where I was. I needed to get rid of him. He was stopping me from being free, from being happy.
Pushing off the wall, I took one last deep breathe, and teetered over to the bronze, incapable of stopping. Finally reaching him, his back turned to me. Lightly tapping his arm, I held my breathe as he slowly turned … waiting, hoping, and dreading.
But it wasn't him. It never was. No matter how many times I saw "him" it was always a crude, replica, a taunting reminder that I could never be whole again, never completely forget my life before. "Uhm … aren't you … aren't you Swan?" the imposter in front of me asked, his lip twitching in excitement.
"Uhm yeah … that's me." Half-heartedly, I gave him a weak smile. Dismayed, and embarrassed, and flustered.
"Can I have your autograph?" Quickly whipping out a pen, I wrote out a small message on the handkerchief he handed me, excusing myself as soon as possible after, so he wouldn't see the breakdown I knew was soon to crash.
Broken, tears falling, I made my way back to Jacob. The incident never happened. It was nothing. I was in Germany, I was famous, I had just performed for an audience of 20,000 and Jake was waiting for me. I whiped the tears from my face, sniffling the last of the remnants away.
"What happened? Jake says, concern etching his features.
"Nothing …. Hotel … please Jake…", noticing my smeared mascara, and distraught voice, he led me away. Immediately tucking me under his arm, and steering us towards the rear exit, just as soon as my song came booming over the speakers.
My voice was vibrating the floors. Words about him, being pounded in Germany, in Europe, in Australia, all over. No wonder I could never get away from him. He was everywhere, and my heart, my broken heart's lyrics were thrown around the whole world. I tried to forget. My attemps wwere comical. I was happy then sad. I was famous, then nothing. I kept it inside, but it always broke through like a dam. He was etched into my lyrics, my brain, my very fame rested on him.
I reluctantly stepped out of the doorway to a mirage of flashbulbs, pushing, shoving, running over to the limo and trapping myself inside with Jake. My heart pounding from exhaustion, another long night in an endless sea of fame, concerts, tours. Another night, started as Swan, strong, powerful, and ending in me frantic, questioning everything.
Jake knew better than to ask. He knew about him. He knew about my façade, and he'd spent far too many nights with me suddenly turning somber, that he knew better than to question it. He knew I was hiding from Forks and my past life. That I was a mess and trying to hide it. He knew the real meaning to my lyrics, he knew the real Swan, and it was far from comforting.
I had no escape. And as the limo made it's way to the hotel, I looked out the window and saw nothing but the blaring, nauseating lights of another strange, unfamiliar city. It was always the night times that got me. At least during the day, I could pretend that I was whole, all glimmering, shiny beauty, with my loud lyrics, and my smiles, my waves. But, Even with Jake's silent presence, and his reassuring hand on my leg. I was still alone. In the middle of the world, sinking, and alone.
Finally, arriving at my hotel, I teetered out, the monster that I was .. looking utterly deathly, as flashbulbs awaited my entrance. I was great at hiding my dismay, as I waved, smiled, blew kisses at the paparazzi. I was the worst kind of famous. I was the empty, fake, detached kind of famous-broken inside, adored, and loved, but broken, nonetheless, because one person in my past hadn't adored me enough...
But it was part of the reason I put on the facade after all. I wanted him to be sitting, at home, looking at me beautiful, famous, smiling, successful across the world. It was a slap in the face.
I made my way back into my hotel room, feeling so different than my last entrance, after my show just meer hours before.
I let my thoughts linger to him. It was the one too many glasses of wine, the image of the bronze haired imposter at the club. He was the devil, an angel, my hell, my heaven all wrapped into one. He was inspiration at it's finest. He sucked the life out of me … but spit life, meaning, into my music, my fame. I absolutely fucking hated him.
Heading towards the taunting lighst of my vanity, I sat in the intricate, girly, plush, chair facing the mirror. Crudely pulling open a drawer, I pulled out a bag. Spilling the drugs on the table, I lifted a portion up to my nose, sniffing. And it was euphoria. I was lost, and gone, and high from something other than the ups and downs of my painful music, my painful life.
The image in the mirror was of a girl I hardly knew anymore. She was beautiful, but heartwrenching. She was broken, with the remnants of tears upon her cheeks. She was sad, and lonely. She tried to be whole, forgetting the man that broke her, channeling her heartbreak from him into her album, her lyrics. But no matter what, he still broke her. She was angry, in denial, yet undeniably scarred.
Suddenly I felt sick, I felt dizzy, and darkness came over me. I watched myself go, watched myself wobble in the mirror. I gladly accepted the darkness. After all, it was the only time where it was actually peaceful, and I could truly escape.
xoxo
Please review if you read!
I'm un-beta-ed at the moment. Sorry for any errors.