A/N For those of you who are new to this story anyway, don't worry about this little author note. Its just a little heads-up. See, I wasn't happy with the previous chapters, so I've rewritten them - only a little editing. It will just help the story flow better. No reviews needed, I don't think you can re-review anyways, but a quick scan would be appreciated, as well as helpful to you readers.

Thanks.

Chapter One

Don't mistake it

I am breaking

There was no clue

No-one really knew

You were the monster haunting my dreams

Ripping my heart open at the seams

Don't mistake it

And I won't fake it

"Don't Mistake It"

From the Album "Love Hurts"

Vocals by Susannah Simon

Song written by Slater/ Prescott

"I'm sure I recognise you. Have we met before?"

Once upon a time, there was a young girl. She spoke her mind, had a great voice, and wasn't a doormat. Until she met Rick Slater, that was, but that's a different story. Anyway, this girl, she was an artist recovering from having her heart stomped on. Twice.

Oh, and also trying to escape some creep trying to chat her up at the local bar.

You see, every guy recognises you, when he's hoping to get into your pants later that evening.

"No," I snapped, taking a drink of my own Cola. I was trying to get rid of the guy, not encourage him by accepting the Vodka he was handing me.

The guy frowned. "Well, should we get to know each other now?"

"No."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, give up for DJ Snaps, bringing you the hippest tunes tonight!"

I clapped my hands, my head hurting with boredom. What was the time now?

Lets see, I'd arrived at 8:30pm, as only a sad early- morning radio DJ who's bedtime should be at 7:00pm would, and I estimate I've been here about two hours. So that would make the time..

Half-ten?

You have got to be kidding me.

"Hey, guys and dolls!" Oh my God. DJ Snaps was one of those happy guys. Oh dear God. "Are ya'll ready to have a good time?"

Oh sure. I'll have a good time, spilling out of my Size 8 skinny jeans, refusing a vodka I really could do with downing right now. God, it was looking at me... staring with his icy eyes...

Pull yourself together, Simon. You're a twenty-five year old woman. Practice a little self-control.

"Your voice sounds familiar."

The guy was still at it. Hadn't he guessed by now that I was just wasn't interested?

"Have you been on the radio before? Are you one of those radio DJs?"

"Hm..." I said, pretending to really consider it. "Maybe... yes. Maybe that's where you remember me from."

Yes, Suze, let him think that your only claim to fame is being an early-morning DJ on Carbonated FM (easy listening for you Early Birds). Let him think you weren't at all a manufactured teen pop sensation torn apart by cold, cruel manufactured recording producers.

"To take us back to those days of our childhood," continued DJ Snaps. "I'll play a little bit of one-hit-wonder pop for us. Don't ya'll remember how much Love Hurts?"

Oh no. Ohhhh nooooo.

You see, I released a hell of a lot of songs. Popular songs. God only knows why they sold so well, seeing as the lyrics are half-heartedly well... crappy.

But the vocals... they rock.

Duh. They were done by me.

Not that I'm totally up myself or anything. I was the most self-conscious teenager America had ever seen. My weight yo-yoed like a... yo-yo. Until I met my now great friends Ben and Jerry. Now I stay a good old size 12.

"Don't Mistake It," said DJ Snaps. "This is a good ol' cheesy song, full o' Bubbles."

Hey, don't look at me. I didnt write those lousy songs. No, mine weren't good enough for the likes of Paul Slater, and See You Later Recording Label. My songs didnt even make the International Bonus Track.

Not that I'm sore, or anything.

"So here ya go!"

Broke my heart

Smiled that smile

To see that smile

I'd have walked a mile….

This young-girl may have been the teen pop sensation, but in any good fairy-tale you'll come across a desperate adolescent, ready to pounce and steal the handsome prince. Also known as the Wicked Witch of Carmel, Kelly Prescott.

How is it fair that wicked witches get just as active social lives as the good fairy/princess? How is it fair that Kelly Prescott was at the exact same party this night, shaking her ass on the front table, hoping "DJ Snaps" will catch a glimpse of whatever skanky secret she's hiding underneath her beaded mini.

Why can''t she have snakes growing out of her head, like the evil Medusa, or tentactles, like Ursula the Sea-Witch? That's what a real bad looks like. Kelly isn't bright enough to be a real super-villain though. I think the peroxide killed all her brain-cells.

"I know now!" cried the guy, downing his third shot. "You're Susannah Simon! That one-hit-wonder pop star!"

Everyone turned their heads to face me.

That was it. The good fairy was soon to be a dead woman.