Disclaimer: I am not American, nor do I go by the name of Stephenie Meyer. Therefore obviously I do not own Edward or Bella, wails uncontrollably.
This is an all-human story, and my first ever fanfic. Please be nice, though constructive criticism is always welcomed! :)
Summary:All-Human Story. Bella is a world wide pop star. Suffering an emotional breakdown, she goes back home to Forks to be with her Dad. There she runs into Edward; the local bad-boy. Can Bella have the 'happily ever after' she desperately wants?
Prologue
A celebrity is a widely-recognized or famous person who commands a high degree of public and media attention.
They forget to mention that being famous also means that:
a) You have no personal/private life.
b) People assume they know you from what they read.
c) Now that you have money, people also assume it brings you happiness.
d) If you don't smile for one picture out of a thousand your classed as stuck up bitch.
Don't get me wrong, being famous has it perks. You can get into premieres, get loads of free stuff, or 'swag' as the media calls it, and of course the money that comes along with it. But like I stated above, money can make you comfortable, but can It really make you happy?
If you ever asked me that question, my answer would be no.
I'm privileged to be a celebrity, or to be more precise a singer.
When I was young I dreamt of superstardom, that I could sing on the stage in front of hundreds, even thousands of people.
For my first ever album to get to number 1 and that my music video would be a smash on MTV.
Well I was fortunate enough that my dreams did come true.
I was signed to a record company when I was fifteen and my first album came out a year later. The album stayed on top for months and so did my video, I preformed at numerous awards shows and made special appearances on tv shows.
I was the golden child of pop music, with my long brunette hair, my warm chocolate colored eyes and my 'hot bod' as numerous magazines had called it.
What people didn't see was the control that I was under. I was told to look a certain way, to act a certain way, to make the world think I was the all American child, who could do no wrong.
For three years I was moulded into the prefect 'pop star'. Controlled in every aspect of my life. Who to be seen with, where to be spotted, what clothes to wear.
But eventually the cracks began to show. I rebelled by going to parties with revealing outfits and getting totally wasted, which ended up on several front pages of the newspapers.
Parents were outraged that their children's role model was pictured in such outrageous behaviour. Though it didn't mind them that I was plastered on every magazine cover scantly dressed anyway.
The media hounded me night and day trying to get the perfect shot of me doing something scandalous, they were so desperate they rummaged through my garbage, what they were expecting to find I had no idea.
Through all the stress and horrible stories the media had created, my fans stayed loyal. Always sending me letters of inspiration and encouragement. They did help, but only a little.
When I turned twenty, I had three number one albums under my belt and numerous awards, but the pressure was still going strong. Even then the recording studio still told me how to act and behave.
Everywhere I went a light bulb would go off in my face, and even more outrageous stories were appearing in the magazines.
One story that I remember particularly well was that I was a lesbian, who liked nothing better than having group orgies and getting high on drugs. It did make me laugh at first, after all the years I had been in the spotlight you get a think skin to gossip in the media.
But eventually my armour was dented and I literally had a break down, an emotional breakdown.
I wouldn't leave my house, I wouldn't answer the phone, cancelled all my appearances on tv and my fourth album was left unfinished. I didn't trust anyone, I couldn't think clearly and couldn't express myself emotionally, which led to me crying non-stop. I felt drained, like the life in me was ripped from my soul. I felt used and abused.
And you thought fame was all glitz and glamour?
Think again.
I finally found enough courage to leave the house and book a one way ticket home.
It was the only place I could be myself.
My dad Charlie had begged and begged me to come home so he could look after "his little girl" for months, and now finally I was.
Little did I know coming home to Forks would be a drama all in itself.
