Author's Note: Thanks for the wonderful reviews:) They really do mean a lot to me!

I was hoping this chapter would be longer but I had a lot of unnecessary things that had to be cut out. Oh well, haha.


"God," a young woman mutters, as she looks at her reflection in her bedroom mirror. "I look like crap."

At that remark, the voice from her male counterpart speaks from behind her. "Yes. You do."

The woman whips around with a snarl on her tired face. "Get out. I thought I told you to leave."

The man nods. "Yeah, yeah, I'm leaving." He picks his wallet up off from her dresser and exits her bedroom, cussing rampantly under his breath.

She shrugs and runs a brush through her bleached, almost platinum blonde hair. She has another radio station interview to get to. And she's already running late. She knows what her manager will say when he goes on his "you're a role-model, not a partier" spiel.

She showers quickly and pulls on the first pair of jeans she finds. Size two and they look as if they're ready to fall off her skinny figure at any moment. She doesn't care. She's lost her pride. What did she do to be proud of? All she lived for now was smiling for the camera and singing trashy songs that were written for her. She merely exists to make money and spend it on club visits and drugs.

She was never entirely sure how she got to where she is. The past five years went by in a blur. She only remembers the pain that went with them. And singing quietly to herself was the only way to relieve herself from her past. Only days after her entire world shattered, her mother heard her singing from her bedroom.

Her mother always seemed to be out of the loop. She had no idea her daughter could sing until that day. After that incident, she pestered her daughter relentlessly to "break into the biz!" Perhaps that was her biggest mistake. Giving into the constant pressure her mother forced on her. Mandy Teslow also reminded her daughter that it would be the best way to get over that "Diffy boy". She never really knew him, either. Why would she? She knew he was her daughter's best friend. But she had no idea he was her entire world. Or put more specifically, her entire universe.

Keely Teslow no longer exists. Her old spirit seems so far-off now. Her past is like a fading fantasy. She is no longer sure of who she is. She gazes at her reflection. Who is the girl staring back at her? She doesn't know her. She never will.

Little does she know that her long lost love has begun his heart's search for her.

And he may never find her.

She sighs as she quickly pulls her limp hair back into a loose ponytail. She then leaves her chic Hollywood mansion without even applying a tiny bit of makeup to cover the dark circles under her almost lifeless green eyes.

Just as she slides into her black Mercedes, her Sidekick rings. "Aw, hell," she mumbles as she reads the number across the tiny screen. "Hello?"

"You're late!" It's her manager.

"Well," she responds pulling her car out of the long and winding driveway. "Good morning to you, too."

"I swear," he starts. "If you don't get here within the next five minutes, I'm releasing you from our little contract."

Keely wanted to laugh at the statement. Her manager has been saying that exact phrase for the past three months. Almost everyday. No, she doesn't want to laugh. She wants to cry. The monotony is almost too much to handle.

"Uh huh," she says absentmindedly as she focuses on the road in front of her.

"I think it's time you had a little reality check, missy," he says, clearing his throat loudly. "Not everyone worships the ground you walk on."

"And is that supposed to surprise me?" she asks, maneuvering through the thick surface street traffic.

Her manager sighs. "No, I suppose not. But it's only the truth. Hopefully it won't be long before someone comes along to teach you that. Apparently I'm not doing the job very well."

"Right," she replies as she drives clear over a traffic cone. "Now I have to go before I get myself killed. You know I can't drive and talk on the phone at the same time."

"In that case, I should call you more often when you finally decide to get out of the house," he mutters, sounding hopeful.

"Excuse me?"

"Nevermind, nevermind. Good-bye," he quickly says, then adds, "Just remember what I said."