"The whole thing is surreal, it always has been! I'm receiving death threats, its fucking crazy!" Ino was talking to a reporter from some paper. It had only been three months since she had joined the band The Frets. Some people looked down on her since she had joined the group right after they had broken through. Most of them were just jealous girls; she did get to hang around Jules after all.
"So you mean that people don't like you? Are you thinking about stepping out?" The reporter shoved her microphone in my face. Dying to get a memorable quote, to get a scoop. "No, or some people despise me. I hate that. It kills the music, it kills me! It's not my fault I got asked to join after the first record, and it's not like I go around fucking Jules every day!" The reporter was nodding; maybe she was happy about something I had said. I hadn't said too much, had i? "I'm not even attracted to him!" Was I digging? "So you mean that… That he's ugly?" They all twist the words I'm saying, I was so sick of it! "No, what I'm saying is that he's not what I'm looking for. I would take him home for one night, then throw him out the next morning and cry!" I knew right there that I had fucked it up. She didn't ask another question. Fucked!
I went to my hotel room, wondering how bad the damage was. I felt like crying so I screamed into a pillow. I was extremely happy nobody had seen me on the way home. Sometimes I regret ever meeting Jules. Jules was the male vocalist. All the shallow people care about the vocalist. People can always name the vocalist in a famous band, never the rest. Is there any hope for humanity?
I called to order something to eat. Humus tapas. My eating habits had been called quirky, unnaturally odd and diva like. Too bad I had been eating the same thing for five years. Nobody cared about that. I ate alone; the rest of the band was out looking at the city. I knew it too well, I grew up here. Paris, I don't hate it, nor do I like it. I had gotten away just in time. Paris didn't represent anything good in my eyes. I drank more of the wine bottle than I ate. I had been eating less and less. I was getting worried. Worried that I would fall into bad habits again. I would have to think about it over a cigarette. I went out the workers entrance.
As I had been told by my PR agent I found a video camera. My mission was to walk around for an hour filming stuff. Random stuff, I just had to make something worth watching. I brought with me two tapes, one for myself, one for him. I got on a bus heading for my old home, if you would like to call it so. It hadn't changed much. It was outside the city. The apple tree I used to spend my days reading under was still there. I turned on the camera. "This is the childhood home of Ino Dubois, or me if you like. I lived here from I was brought up and ran away at the age of 14. The second window to the left used to be my room." I walked up to the door. "Let's see if anybody wants to let me in. It looks kinda empty though." I knocked waited, knocked some more. The door was open so I let myself in. "Hello?" I tried to sound brave, but I didn't like being back here. The house was mostly empty and dusty, nobody lived there anymore. I went down to the basement. "It was here I learned to play on a stolen guitar. I still feel sort of bad about that… And yes, it was fairly easy stealing a guitar. My stepdad used to take me down here to yell at me." I walked to the end of the basement, not that it was that big. "Then he would lock me in here. After I stopped eating for a while I got skinny enough to climb through here. He never found out, I wouldn't have been here if he did." I got down and taped the small went hole. I started crying it was so small. "I'm just so scared 'cause I'm not eating anymore… and that, that's not human. How could I ever have fitted through there?" I got up and went up the stairs again. I went to my brother's room. "This used to be my brothers room. Yeah, I have a brother. Or I hope he's still out there. He always used to take care of me. I always wanted to hang with him and his friends. He didn't want them, said they were bad. He was right; one of them nailed me against my will when I was 12. My sick mind thought it was normal." I ran over to my room. I found my secret hiding place. "Every kid with a messed up life needs one of these." I pulled out a Barbie doll, some coins and a book. "Ah, Frankenstein! It always amazed me how he could create a monster out of loneliness, loneliness is a monster. My stepfather used to beat me. It wasn't the classic kid gets beaten up and raped by alcoholic stepdad. My mother used to take part in it too, and he never touched me. Never, made me feel like there was something wrong with me. That I wasn't good enough for him to touch. Sometimes I wonder if it hadn't been better if he had, but it's something I try not to think of anymore." I went around the house taping important parts. Then I went back to shoot the real movie. The one I could show to people.
I started with the Eiffel tower. "I wonder how much power it takes to knock it down. Once I fell asleep around here somewhere, so the police had to drive me home. Mom was not happy!" I gave a laugh, fake. Mom locked me in my room, thankfully it wasn't the basement. I ate some bread. Felt sick, turned off the camera and threw it back up. Blamed stress for the time being. "Okay, since some people have started calling me a stupid blond whore, I'm going to dye my hair light brown. That way I'll only be a stupid whore! See you at the concert tonight!" I hadn't been kidding. I was tired of being called innocent and an angel just because of my hair. I was far from both of them. People had mostly kept away until I came to my hotel. Should have taken the back door. I fished out a cigarette. This might take a while.
"Ino! I'm from VoxPop, how are you liking France?" Another microphone in my face. "It hasn't changed much since last time." I started walking around signing stuff, trying to be polite to the fans. "What have you been doing in France?" She had to say France all the fucking time, like I didn't know where I was. "You know, the normal… Scoring drugs, drinking heavily and just now I was out looking for some male prostitutes." The reporter wasn't sure if she should laugh or not. "Do you really need to pay prostitutes with your looks?" I hoped she got that it was a joke. "They got to earn a living too you know, but on the other hand I'm the only girl in the band. You know what; I don't have time to talk anymore. Have a nice day!" She kept on talking. I took some pictures with whoever wanted it and ran inside. The whole thing took almost an hour."
"Oh yes! Oh yes Nick! Let's not stop having gay sex all over her bed!" I'm guessing they got my room key somewhere. I walked in without knocking. To no surprise both Nick and Jules was fully dressed. "Your femininity broke our mood," Nike spoke. "That's too sad." I sat down between them on the bed. "What's up pussy cat?" asked Jules slapping my thigh. "I hate the world, and the world hates me!" I lay down. "We missed you today. We saw French things." I screamed. They ignored it, they had gotten used to my sudden mood changes. I took three minutes to calm down. "I'm just so tired of this, I just wanna die!" Nick got up and left without a word. Jules lay down beside me. "That wouldn't be any fun." I let out a sigh. I was tired of this, after only three months. I wasn't made for this. I wasn't meant to be here. "I don't think I can handle this. Everybody loves or hates me. The problem is that they don't know me. That's the worst thing, everybody has painted a picture of me, and they are all wrong. I feel like I'm losing myself." He held my hand. "Then allow yourself to be made again." I looked over at him. "I'm too scared." I whispered.