I know that I have another story to be writing, but I really wanted to write this! It's kind of depressing, and I want to make it clear that it isn't a Fourteen story...it's not really a romance at all, just depressing. It really is pretty self explanatory, Thirteen is depressed and she doesn't want to pretend anymore but she knows that she has to. The lyrics are from the song The Show Must go on from Moulin Rouge (originally from Queen). Enjoy and please review!

The Show must go on

I barely made it to my apartment before the pain, the torture, flooded into me. I welcomed the sting; it meant that I was alive, even though it didn't feel like I was. My body shook uncontrollably and the minute I got through the door and slammed it shut, I collapsed, holding onto the frame for support.

On and on
does anybody know
what we are living for…

I knew that I should get up and pull myself together, who knew how long I had before someone came to look for me. I had acted suspicious today, and they all knew that something was wrong; they weren't fooled by my faked cheeriness. Even as I thought of acting normal; of pretending that nothing was wrong, I sobbed harder. It was too painful to think, and I wrapped my arms tightly around my stomach so that I could keep myself together. I didn't want to share my sorrow with anyone, but at the same time I didn't want to be strong about it. I was so exhausted of pretending that everything was okay, and it seemed so much easier to just give up, but I knew that that would put everyone through too much.

The show must go on,
the show must go on.
Outside the dawn is breaking
on the stage that holds
our final destiny.
The show must go on;
the show must go on…

I had to pretend, if not for them then for myself. I had to pretend that nothing was wrong; that everything would be okay.

Inside my heart is breaking,
my makeup may be flaking,
but my smile still stays on…

I pulled myself together for the moment and slowly walked to my bathroom, feeling utterly surreal as I washed the evidence of tears off my face and brushed away the hair from my face. I couldn't even comprehend that the reflection in the mirror was me, she was so pale with the darkest of circles under her eyes, now visible due to my tears washing away all of my makeup. I reapplied everything slowly, careful to not mess anything up. My hand shook as I drew my eyeliner on, and my lips quivered as I slicked on my lip gloss, but I refused to let the tears slide out.

The show must go on;
the show must go on…

A knock sounded at my door and I knew what to expect before I even opened the door. He stood there, dressed neatly in his suit and tie, fresh from work. I was surprised that he was able to come this early, after all, his boss was my boss and I had to fake an illness to leave an hour early. Still, I let him into my apartment and led him to one of my suede chairs before sitting across from him. Concern was outlined in every line of his face, one of the only emotions I had ever seen on his face. He was always so assured and reasonable, and seeing me this shook up was clearly disheartening to him.

"How are you? You seemed…troubled today," I smiled and shook my head, trying to keep this façade going for as long as I needed it to.

"I'm fine; I just didn't feel well today that's why I left early," even to me my voice sounded fake, more robotic then human. He seemed to buy it, however.

"Well, I'm glad to see that you seem to be feeling better," I nodded.

"Yeah, I think it was something that I ate last night but I am feeling much better," he nodded too, accepting my lie. He seemed like he was getting ready to leave, obviously satisfied with all of my lies when he paused.

"You have circles under your eyes; did you not sleep last night?" I mentally slapped myself, I had completely forgotten to put on my under eye makeup. I scrambled for an explanation.

"I was up late last night puking; I think I got food poisoning or something. I thought it was gone today, but clearly it wasn't. But when I got home I took an antacid and now I'm feeling much better." He smiled.

"Well I'm glad that you're feeling better," I nodded my thanks. "I guess I'll go then, I was just worried about you," I smiled.

"Don't be, I'm fine. Thanks for checking on me though," he nodded and, after one more concerned glance, left and shut my door behind him.

I'll top the bill,
I'll earn the kill.
I have to find the will to carry
on with the,
on with the,
on with the show…

I was relieved when he left, I was even more relieved that he seemed to believe me when I said that I was fine…I clearly wasn't. I walked numbly to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of wine. I sat in front of the TV and turned on some stupid movie. I didn't even realize that the movie was in a different language, I wasn't watching it. The noise filled the emptiness of the room, however, and for that I was grateful.

I must have drunk about four or five glasses of wine before my blissful numbness started wearing off and I felt the pain beginning to return, throbbing painfully. I tried ignoring it, tried to live in the moment of peaceful unawareness before I would be subjected to my torture again.

On with the SHOW!
On with the SHOW!

I was sobbing uncontrollably again, curling my body into a little ball so that I could protect myself. I knew that I couldn't protect myself from anything, not from my future or from the concern of my friends, but…it was nice to pretend, if only for a moment.

The show must,
the show must go on!