Chelsea

I took a deep breath, realizing what I was seriously about to do.

Everything the past couple years was nothing but I giant waste of time. I should have known that I shouldn't have left this place in the first place. I should have known that there aren't bigger, brighter things out there for me- other than strobe lights, and spot lights. I should have known that dreaming gets you nowhere.

There is no hope for me, other than doing this job- something I'm useful at.

I let out a deep breath of air when I caught a glimpse of myself in a window. I'm a damn state. Especially my hair, the first thing I bought when I came back to the city was a box of hair bleach- awful idea. Now my hair is a skeet copper color. It's not even a nice blonde, it's just a shitty dried out mustard color. I did it mainly because I didn't want anyone to recognize me, no one from either one of my life times.

I have bags under my eyes, by skin don't shine like it used to. My black eyes look deathly. My body is a rack of bones. Jez, they mighten even want me back.

I looked across the street, my destination. That's where I need to be, for at least 3 months, until I start showing. If I'm even knocked up, that is. Like, I don't feel any different. Should I? Should I feel something down there growing? Or do I just wake up one morning and be like "Yup, diff prego.". I'm actually clueless about this kind of thing.

It would be like history repeating itself.

Only my mom worked in a huge office building.

I'm just going to be a male entertainer.

Lucky youngster.

I crossed the road with the mounds of people when the crosswalk light came on. I really REALLY didn't thing in a million years that I would ever come back to this place. I swore to myself that I would never swoop so low again. That nothing in this world would pressure me back into this occupation, if you could call it that.

But here I am. Something is pushing me back; something that I don't even know is going to exist.

Maybe I wouldn't be such a dead beat mother anyway. Dedication should be enough, shouldn't it?

What else can I be expected to do? I was stupid enough to go sneaking around in the dark alleys of New York, of course I got raped. What else did I expect to happen? Drift away into a sweet sleep? It's not like people have high expectations for 'people like me'.

I really wish I could care about it more. Sure, I feel violated and shit- but how can I worry about that when I'm worried about whether or not I'm with child?

I am only figuring out know that half my problem is that I'm too busy being strung up over the past. Maybe if I wasn't so busy focusing on the fact that I lost everything while that man was raping me, I could have got away. But no, I was too overwhelmed about the past to be strong enough to fight off the present.

Worrying about the farm, mom, Vaughn, Kai, my animals, and all this shit that isn't coming back. All this stuff that I can't change, it's no use to think about it.

I have to suck it all up and just move on. I have to do what I have to, just to get by. I'll figure the rest out while I'm going. I just can't keep dragging myself down because of shit that happened a year ago, it's the reason I'm in this mess anyway.

The same old sign was still flashing in the window, the same purple and blue neon lights flashing the word "Ronnie's"

Ronnie is the owner of the place. Her, and her husband owns it, they are very in love. Yet they enjoy screwing around on each other. Well, from what I remember anyway. But if they both don't mind it, power to 'em.

The place is as shitty looking as ever. It really seemed to have fallen apart since I left. The black paint is peeling off the siding, a window is boarded over. A stair is messing. The curtains are hauled down, like someone was hanging off them, "Chez, it looks like they missed me." I mumbled.

I kept looking at the door. But I just couldn't bring it to myself to pull it open; this isn't what I want in life. I don't want to have a child and have to bring it here to work with me in the nights. I don't want to cover my face again forever, or to get a weave to cover my hideous hair. I don't want to spray tan, or stuff my bra until my titties get big again. I don't want to get on stage and sing to men with hard ons.

I want my farm back.

But I won't, because of that cowboy Casanova.

No one ever gets what they want.

I took a deep breath, and smacked myself hard in the face, "Fuck off Chelsea," I mumbled, "You're doing it again. You're drowning yourself in pity, but no one is going to help you but yourself. Now, you're going to open that damn door, and walk in there with your bleached head held high."

Without hesitating any longer, I listened to my personal pip talk, and I pulled the door open and stepped inside. I looked around at the black, green, pink, and purple curtains strung around. The stage was big enough for a skinny ass, singing, stripper and a few skinny ass dancers. The tables were strung around the club in random places, just like I remember. The bar is on the back wall, just like I remember.

Everything is exactly the way it was before I left. Except one thing, Kai isn't the one standing behind the counter greeting me.

It's another guy. Someone that is somewhat familiar to him though. He has a dark complexion with blue cat-like eyes. His dark straight hair is kept out of his face with a bandana, being worn a way that an 80's chick would wear it across his forehead.

"Take a picture," he mumbled, "It'll last longer."

I narrowed my eyes at his rude remark. "Excuse me," I snapped back, "I was just trying to figure out your sense of style."

He smirked, shaking his head. "Coming from the street rat with holey jeans and a woolen sweater."

"So?" I asked, "What's the big deal with that?"

"It's the middle of summer, darling." He muttered, "Shed some clothes, show some skin."

I chuckled, shaking my head and looking away, "Oh," I mumbled to myself, "I will be doing that very soon."

I pulled up a stool and sat down.

"What do ya want?" He asked, gesturing to all the bottles of alcohol.

"Nothing, thanks."

"What are ya? Pregnant or something?" He joked.

"Well, you never know" I joked back, but being secretly truthfully.

"Who jokes about something like that?" He muttered, "You must get around."

Actually, asshole. I was raped.

"Whatever," I sighed, "Is Ronnie around?"

He stopped dead in his tracks, turning around and staring at me like I had 4 heads. "You? You want to speak to Ronnie?"

"Yeah," I replied cooley, "What's the problem with that?"

He shook his head, trying to act like a tough guy, "Hah, I dunno. You aren't exactly the type of girl that she shows interest in. You wouldn't even get a job at a clothes washer."

"Excuse me!" I hissed, "What do you mean, a girl like me? For your information I am probably the best thing that could happen to this washed out shit hol-"

"Calm down, crazy lady." He chuckled, "Who exactly do you think you are?"

"For YOUR information," I said as a matter-of-factly, throwing extra emphases on the word 'your', I'll be damned if he never heard my name before. "My name-"

"Chelsea?" I heard a voice exclaim from behind me. "One second! Let me come closer."

I turned around, flicking my dead hair over my shoulder. I could see the long orange curly haired woman approaching me. She looks more worn down and wrinkled than I remember. She must have laid back on the Botox.

"Chelsea Davis?" she gasped again, tilting my chin towards her, "Well, I'll be!"

The guy behind the counter was just staring at me wide eyed, in shock. What kind of reputation have I earned from this place to get that kind of reaction?

"Chelsea Davis, the girl who just never showed up to work one night? The girl that no one knew if she was alive or dead? Chelsea Davis, too good for us?"

I kept looking into her brown eyes. Great, since when did everyone here refer to me as Chelsea Davis. I thought I was supposed to be Baby.

"Well," I cleared my throat, trying to save myself a job "I'm alive. And by looking at me compared to you right now, there is no way in hell I'm too good for this place."

Ronnie looked me up in down, walking around in a circle like I was her pray. "What did you do to your hair?"

"Bleached it."

"Why?"

"Because I was having an identity crises."

"Hm," She thought, "Do you like it?"

"Hate it."

"Good," She circled around some more, "You need a tan desperately."

"Yeah, sure." I sighed, knowing arguing would give me a swift kick out the door.

"Take off your dreadful shirt."

I sighed, pulling the itchy woolen sweater over my bones.

"Well, we need to put some meat on your bones. A drunken man wouldn't be able to tell the difference between you and a pole. That's no good."

I nodded, "I'll eat a whole grocery store, if you need me too."

She chuckled, "Are you sure you want back in? You're not going to just skin out on us again, are you?"

"Well," I breathed, looking around the dead club, "It looks like you might need me back." I looked at her again, "Besides, I need you just as much as you need me. I'm in it for the long run." I muttered, reaching out to shake her hand. I'm not quite sure why I did it, but I just felt like it was a business thing. And maybe if I showed her that this wasn't being taken lightly, she would trust me more.

"Well," She announced, breaking her hand into mine, "You're promoted to our show stopper. Our big performance."

"What?" I let my jaw drop, "Already? Did you really need me that bad?"

"Dan," She pointed at the boy behind the counter, "And a lovely girl named Michelle." She chuckled, "That's right, we needed two people to practically get on stage and fuck- just to make up for that crazy things you used to do."

A proud stripper would have taken that as a compliment. I put my head down in shame. But I smirked, just to play it off like I was blushing.

"Dan," She turned to the boy behind the bar, "Hand me $500 from the cash please. Chelsea and I are going for a make over." She grimaced at my hair and finger nails one last time, "Actually, make it $1000."

"Sure." He muttered, looking at me. For some reason, he looked somewhat excited. Which is weird, seeing that he pretty much just got demoted. "Just let me grab my jacket an-"

"Woah, woah," Ronnie haulted him in his tracks, "Where do you think you're going?"

"Uh," he stammered, "I, uh," he paused again, "Just wanted to see how it turned out and stuff."

Ronnie rolled her eyes, "Stay here, mend the club. Call advertisement people, make sure posters are put around town, Le them know that Chelsea Davis is back!" She turned and grabbed me, "Chelsea, you're coming with me."

I never let her drag me, "Actually, about the whole Chelsea thing." I brought up, seeing it was irking me more than anything. "I prefer stage names, just because I don't want my real name being thrown around in such an X-Rated matter."

"Fine," She played along, "What would you rather?"

I looked around the club, for something interesting. Something sexy that stands out, but it simple as the same time. Something everyone will remember, but at the same time, not be special enough to stick out.

I caught a bowl of cherries behind the bar.

"Cherry." I suggested, "I like that."

Ronnie looked me up and down, a smiled breaking out over her face, "You know what?" She lead on, "I have a mind blowing idea for you."

With that, she dragged me out of the club on to the streets. Just like before, I belong to her again, and I'm like her Barbie doll. She can do whatever she wants to me.

(Dan is a character from Magical Melody. FYI)

xxxXXXxxx

"Oh, zee hair is jus awful." The French lady grimaced as she started picking through mu dried out locks. Raising one drawn on eyebrow, "Zere is no way zat I could work with such… terror."

Ronnie took a deep breath, shaking her head. "It all has to go, doesn't it?"

The lady laughed, "Oh yes, zere is no way zat we could keep zat length. It'z just inzane."

Ronnie sighed, looking my hair up and down- deep in thought. "I don't think a pixie cut would go well in my business. All my ladies have long hair for flicking."

"Oh!" The woman exclaimed, "Non, non, no! I zid not mean zat it would have to be a pixie cut. It juz can't be long like it iz now!" She started fiddling with my hair even more, still speaking but more to herself, "Zee, right now her hair iz to her tail bone. No wonzer it iz dead. We need to take it at leazt to here." She left my hair up so the ends were just grazing my shoulders. It was not quite at short as what Natalie's was; it was just a little longer.

"I haven't been that short in years," I commented, sort of effy about losing my hair. I mean, I've been growing it out for as long as I can remember, "I really like my hair long."

"Well!" She snarled at me, "If you just loved you hair zo much, you would not have bleach it with ze box zet! Never bleach ze hair with ze box! You must alwayz come to a professional!"

"Okay!" I cut her cut, not wanting to hear her go on any longer about my stupid impulses. "Just, do whatever."

The woman looked at Ronnie for her approval, Ronnie sighed, "She ruined it, we gotta fix it. Besides, that girl could blow the club right out of the water with a bald head and potato sack if she wanted."

"Ha," The woman snickered, looking at me in disgust, under estimating, "I'll believe zat when I zee it. Right now, all I can zee iz bushy eyebrowz."

I rolled my eyes, sitting still and letting her chop my hair. I almost had a heart attack when she held it in a ponytail, and snipped about 20 inches off without hesitation. But then I remembered that I was raped 3 days ago, and that getting my hair cut is only minor compared to that.

"Zo, Ronnie." The lady started, "What color are you zoing zis girl? Are we going a ztrawberry blonde? Zor a nize rich cholocate brown? I zink brown would zook excellent. But her eyez are zoo dark for it. She would have zo wear contacts."

I don't really want to wear contacts. If there was one think that the cowboy was genuine about, I think it was my eyes. I dunno, I just really think that he did like them. Sure, he did get caught up in the acting and stuff. But the moments that really stand out to me were the moments that he was just looking at them. Like the night at the firework festival, he wasn't watching the fireworks, he was looking at my eyes. Did him and Sabrina really have everything planned out at that point?

I don't think Vaughn was always evil. I believe that there is some sort of feelings there- really really deep down inside.

"No, acutally, I'm doing something different for our little Cherry." Ronnie exclaimed, excitedly, "We are going bright red! I mean like, fire hydrant red. The brightest red we can muster up."

I looked in the mirror at myself. Oh jesus, I thought that it was bad enough that I had to wear a fake weave before. But now if not even going to be a wig. It's going to be my real hair, it's not like I can just rip it out and go on.

"Ooooo! How ecziting!" The lady turned me around in my seat to face them, "Ziz is going to turn out great. I'm gonna have zo come to your show tonight juz zo zee!"

I sighed, "Wonderful. Can't wait to see you."

Honestly, I was hoping that the least amount of people would show up as possible.

*ring ring ring rin*

"Oh! My phone!" Ronnie squeeled giddily, "It must be the advertisers, I need them to make posters and advertise on the radio!" I swear that I seen money in her eyes while she announced her slogan, "Baby is back! Only she's not such a Baby anymore, She has blossomed into a Cherry- more experienced and ready to party."

Looks like a few people might show up

Vaughn

"That's garbage." I muttered at Julia, gesturing to the vase in her hand

"Vaughn! You can't just throw everything in the garbage. There is nothing wrong with it at all."

"There is." I replied, everything is fucking wrong with it; The shape, the color, where it's placed. She wouldn't have had it; there is nothing special about it. So I'm not fucking keeping it.

"You can't throw things out, just because you don't think Chelsea would like it." Julia sighed, "This isn't her house. It's yours, and if you like something you should keep it."

I picked the awful flowered table cloth off the table, stuffing it into a bag "Well then, get rid of it all because I hate everything here."

"So," She probed, "You're keeping only things that Chelsea would like? Even though you don't?"

"Pretty much." I hissed, agitated by the shit she gives me over her.

"You're so dumb!" She accused, "Why would you do that? She's not here."

"Yeah, well," I mumbled, "She might be some day, so minds as well."

Julia let out a deep breath, "This is absolutely ridiculous"

"Everything is fucking ridiculous."

It was silent for a while, Julia picked stuff up, got my approval on it- kept it or threw it, and it went like this forever.

"You know," Julia pointed out, "You did an excellent job clearing out the field and getting it all ready. The soil looks rich again; I don't think the seeds will take long to sprout."

I nodded my head, looking out the window at my finished work. Of course, I could barely see it now since the fucking sun is gone. It was a long and tiring day, I can't believe that she use to do it all alone. She would wake up and start in, every single day. No wonder she was so physically strong, she had no other choice. She is really the most fucking impressive thing I ever laid eyes on, all of her damn drive and all that shit.

"That's nothing compared to what she use to do out there, fucking everything." I replied. "It's fucking crazy on how she would do it everyday, for such a tiny gir-"

"UGH!" Julia snapped, "Vaughn! I don't give a fuck about Chelsea. I complimented you, not her. Typically, I'm a nice person. But when it comes to Chelsea, I will roll to the depths of hell with her."

I scowled, looking away again, Julia just don't get it. That's all. When she comes back, Julia'll fucking understand.

I don't get it. Before I left she was all happy-go-fucking-lucky. Now she is up tight and a real fucking busy bee. I don't get what her problem is.

"Jules," I muttered, "Whats up with ya? Yer more uptight than I remember."

She chuckled mockingly, "Oh, chez Vaughn. What is there for me to worry about?"

I shrugged, knowing she is stressed about the kid and everything. But still, it don't give her no fuckin reason to go lashing out all the damn time.

"First off, I wake up without out my husband because-even though we are married and with child, we both have our own duties and can't make time for each other. Secondly, I walk up in the mornings wondering if mom is still breathing. Thirdly, I wonder how the hell I'm going to be able to feed this youngster. And some days there are more leaks than usual, or the well is dried out do to a drought or something."

I sighed, realizing that maybe I am being really selfish. I'm not the only fucking person around here with damn problems. Everyone one this hell of an island is facing some kind of shit.

"And you," Julia accused me, "Why won't you go talk to mom? She missed you, you know. You should really go and talk to her. " she added in, "Instead of avoiding her like she is the plague."

Mirabelle looks fucking terrible. When I saw her before, I honestly thought she was dead in her wheel chair. I can't look at her like that, I have never exactly seen anyone that was so sick that they were dying- and I guess it just disturbs me.

The fact the Chelsea grew up with it amazes me. Fuck, she can handle anything like that.

And, Mirabelle's eyes light up when she sees me- like I'm a fucking god who is going to make everything right again.

She's depending on me. Julia is depending on me. Whatever youngster in her belly is depending on me. The whole island is depending on me. That's an awful fucking lot of people to tend on- especially for a fuck up like me.

I felt everything get kind of warm, like the world was about to collapse on me. What the fuck am I doing back here? Why couldn't I just ship Julia and Mirabelle where ever I was? I can handle supporting them. But a whole fucking town? Where the hell am I supposed to start with that?

"I need to get out." I breathed heavily, standing up and heading to the door.

"Vaughn?" Julia watched me worried, "Are you feeling okay?"

"Just a little dizzy," I mumbled, "I'll be back."

I stepped outside, and noticed that the bench we built when she is still here with me- perched on top of the hill. Just sitting there, as if nothing ever did happen. Just like she was just going to walk out of her fucking house and sit there, waiting for me to just come off the boats so she could run and fucking meet me.

I bet she was sitting here the day that everything went down fucking hell. I snickered to myself, in disgust. Neither one of us expected all of that to happen in such a short amount of time. 5 minutes, it's all it took for the world to end.

She was different that day, she didn't look herself. It's like she was fucking ready for something. The way she was all prettied up, wearing a dress. She even had her hair done. Which is crazy for her, because every time I seen her she looked like she was in a wrestling match with a damn hog.

So why the fuck was she all dolled up? What made that day any different than any other day? She knew we would be unpacking my things all day. She wouldn't have put on a damn dress, if anything she probably wouldn't have even got dressed in the first place.

Trying to retrace my memory of the last time I saw her. I was forced to look out the window at her while she left. I watched her run down the path, throwing her mussel shell on the ground and smashing it. I watched her cry at Lanna, and-

My eyes opened wide, when I remembered something. She handed something to Lanna, she gave her something. Lanna was the last person she spoke to before she left.

Maybe she fucking knows where she went. And maybe whatever she gave her can give me a clue to where I can find her.

I jumped from the bench, and started to run to Lannas. I ignored the fact that everything around me was either dead or dying, I ignored the fact that I'm the one expected to bring it back to life. How can I bring something back to life if I'm dead myself?

The only way I can do it is if I have Chelsea. We could do it together.

And this bubbly pop star is my only hope.

I reached her house, and I frantically knocked on the door, "Hello?" I shouted, "Lanna, open the hell up!" I kept knocking non-stop, "Open the damn door! I need to talk to yo-"

The door suddenly opened wide, I was looking down at the blonde girl. She didn't look as energized as usual though, she was tired looking. Her face is worn down; she isn't the girl that I was used to seeing.

"Hi." She mumbled, while she tried to break eye contact with me, "What are you doing back here?"

I invited myself in, according to her smugness; I don't think she would have done so unless I just acted on it. "I'm back to take over the farm."

She snickered, shutting the door behind her, "Ha, yeah. Live up to what you started."

I sighed, still well aware that Lanna is the only person who heard the story, and it was told from 'her' point of view. Of course she hates me.

"Listen, it never went the way that She thought it went. It never at all, see-"

"It don't matter anymore, Vaughn." Lanna sighed, standing next to a window and looking out at the window, "It don't matter. This is the way it all went down, you two had too big of an influence on each other's lives and look what happened. You not only ruined your own, but everyone else's." She shook her head, "Because of you two, I don't ever know whether or not Denny will come home from sea each night. Julia and Elliot are married, but they don't even see each other. Natalie is down Pierre's throat every second of the day, telling him he is useless just because the only thing he is good at is cooking. Which really isn't useful these days, seeing there is no fancy food to cook."

"Well," I argued against her, "Maybe if everyone stopped thinking about themselves here, they would get along better."

Snapping her head back at me, she snickered "Yeah? Look who's talking."

"Me?" I laughed mockingly, "I'm the one here that has to clean up the mess Mark and Sabrina left behind."

Lanna rolled her eyes, looking back out the window again.

If I want to get anything out of her, I'm gonna have to lighten the fuck up and be a little nicer.

"Listen," I started, "I don't know what she told you, but it's probably something along the lines of me proposing to Sabrina, burning down here farm, just so I could get rid of her and take it over."

"Yeah," she muttered, "Something like that."

"Well," I tried not to growl, just knowing that it's what 'she' thinks really boils my blood. "It never went like that, at all. And I would really love you to fucking hear me out."

She kept looking out the window, but then she took and deep, surrendering breath. "Yeah, you know what?" She said, "I could really use a good story right now to get my mind off everything."

"Fine." I sat down at the kitchen table, and she did too, "I was going to ask her to marry me that day, you know? I made this really nice fucking ring, that's what I did the whole week before I came back to the island."

She glanced up at me, I had her attention.

"That ring that Chelsea seen me with was meant for her, not Sabrina. Sabrina was lucky she even got time out of my day, extremely lucky. If I just ignored her, things wouldn't have went to easily for them"

"What do you mean by that?"

"See," I started, "Mark left to find a crook that Sabrina heard of. That crook gotta special power, he can get into people's mind and making them do whatever the fuck he wants- even though their own minds are arguing against it." I shivered, "Even if you are demanding your right arm to move, you can't do it unless he lets you. It's like you're his puppet." I would have added in the fact that 'the crook' is my father, but that is a little too personal.

"They found him. When I got onto the island, she was standing in my way. I had big things on my mind, so I plowed right into her and knocked her to the ground. Of course, I thought it was my fault because I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. She claimed to have hit her head, and asked me if I could help her into her house."

I chuckled at how stupid I was at the time, "I helped. Because I figured since I would be on the island for the rest of my life, I don't want a man like Regis on my case for beating his daughter around. So I helped her up, and guided her to her house. Before I knew it, I was frozen solid and I was the crooks puppet. They didn't know I had the box in my pocket, she felt it when I was forced to put my arms around her. The ring was a giant bonus for there. He lowered me to my knee, and before I knew it 'She' was behind me." I sighed, "The timing was dead on."

It's hard to believe. But it's fucking true, and she better believe me.

"While 'she' was running down to greet me, Mark fucking started in on the farm. He must have used gasoline or something to ignite everything so friggen quickly- he burned the damn place down, not me. They planed it to give her another reason to leave the island. She had a broken heart, which made her fucking vulnerable. Killing her animals and destroying her hard work would guarantee that she would leave."

Lanna looked back up at me, confused, but for some reason I believed her. "Then, after I was released and she was long gone, I decided I had to go and find her, to set things right." I took a sharp breath of self-pity, "But I obviously didn't find her."

"I believe you," She mumbled, "You know, I do. I just thought it was so weird, for a guy like you to just break her heart like that? And I mean, I'm neighbors with Sabrina- I have never seen you with her once. You would get off the boats and walk on by. Chez, I didn't even know that you knew she existed."

I nodded, "Exactly. And now you know that I have to find her. And you're my only damn hope in that."

Lanna looked up, sort of shocked, "What? Me?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, "I seen her fucking, hand you something, and she said something to you. Right before she got on the boat."

Lanna just stared at me, her eyes bugging out of her head. If Lanna don't fucking go along with me, then I'll never fucking find her.

"One second," she gave in, "I'll show you what she gave me." She got up, but then turned to face me, "I don't know where she went. So this is a warning, what I'm going to show you is just going to break you more, it's no help to finding her what-so-ever."

My heart felt like it was floating for the first time in a full year; Finally, something that fucking belongs to her. Everything she owned burned to the damn ground, but I can finally have something back that belongs to her. Something that'll make me feel like she is still fucking here.

"I don't care. I just need something to keep my mind occupied," I sighed, "I need something that belongs to her."

She sighed, "Oh, this will occupy your mind, alright."

She went into a room and rustled through a box, she finally found it and she returned to the table. She laid a long black box in front of me.

"She told me to bring it back to her farm and burn it- with everything else. It was her exact words." She looked at the box, deep in thought, "I couldn't. I almost did, but I just couldn't drop it in the fire. Just because I knew that if this burned, everything of her life her would be gone." She trailed off, "I guess it's just a symbol for a little bit of hope, for her."

I pulled the box towards me, and pulled the top off.

"Fuck," I exhaled, staring down at the brightest thing that I've seen since I got on this fucking island. The bright blues mixed together was mesmerizing. My mind was frazzled with so many fucking thoughts, "This is hers?"

"Yes."

"And she was going to-" My mind raced with too many thoughts that I couldn't even fucking handle it. It was like the world was closing in on me again. Since when was I was one that got fucking panic attacks?

"Propose to you."

Those words lingered in my mind for the longest time. I gently picked the feather up between my thumb and index finger, twirling it around to catch every glimpse from it.

That's why she was all fucking dolled up that day. She was going to ask me to marry her.

And she must have been carrying the box with her, because she wouldn't have had the chance to get it from her burning house.

And that's why she reacted the way she did. She expected me to be my finance, Not Sabrina.

She was going to propose to me, I was going to propose to her. It would have been fucking perfect. But perfect don't exist for people with fucked up lives like us.

"Everything is so fucked up." I muttered, "Can I keep this?" I asked, still spinning the feather. I really didn't want to let go of it. Holding something that 'she' could have been holding gave me the tiniest bit of fucking comfort.

A little bit of hope, like Lanna said.

Who would have thought that a woman could have turned my into a fucking mush ball.

"It was meant to be yours anyway."

I nodded, glad to be finished telling Lanna everything that happened. Opening up isn't exactly the type of thing that I'm fucking good at. I'd rather just sit down and rot. But that wouldn't get me very fucking far with my dead beat life.

Without even saying bye, I left. When was I ever the one to say "See ya" if, chances are, I'm never going to come visit her again. I got what I wanted out of her, not as much as I was fucking hoping for, but I got something to hang on too.

The fact that Chelsea and I felt the same fucking way for each other when I arrived that morning- it's still fucking hope that she could still feel the same.

I kicked a rock down the road, I would just love to fucking know where the hell she is right now. What the fuck is she doing this very second? Is that too much to ask for?

Chelsea

"CHERRY! CHERRY! CHERRY! CHERRY! CHERRY!"

I could hear the drunks calling my name. Screaming out to me for me to come and put on my show, I could picture the quite high class men sipping patiently on wine and cocktails, waiting from me to put on a show. I can feel the jealous women sitting with their husbands, waiting to fanaticize about being me- doing what I do.

I sighed, while I applied blood red lipstick on to my lips. My reflection isn't me. It's not Chelsea, it's not even Baby. I look more, regal, more sexy, more wild. Before, I had a twinge of innocence, with my long brown hair and bright green eyes.

Now? I'm a fiery hot red head, with devilish black eyes. That's the word, I look like a demon.

Luckily, they decided against the spray tan after, and that my pale white skin made me look porcelain and delicate. I'd rather delicate than trashy.

My make-up is done mainly all blue. I suggested it; I was hoping it would bring the blue out in my eyes- but it never. The blue in my eyes only shine through when I'm happy, I'm far from pleased right now. But, anyway, it's a quick way for me to make some money- until at least, I find out whether or not I'm prego.

"CHERRY!" Someone screamed out to me, "5 MINUTES!"

I nodded to myself, surprised that I'm already answering to the name Cherry. I figured that it would take me a little while to get used to it, but I guess not. I guess when you know you can't avoid something, you eat and breathe it. That's why I'm such a natural at things- farming, stripping, singing, if it has to be done correctly, I'm going to do it. It's who I am; I'll master whatever is thrown in my way.

I was even a pretty good girlfriend. I think I had that down path. I feel like I gave that cowboy everything I had, I would spend my days waiting for him to come back. Then when he was with me, I would wish time would just stop so it could just be the two of us.

But that wasn't good enough. Nothing I did for the man was satisfactory, my hard work and dedication. My actions and words, my support and love. None of it was what he wanted. He just wanted that spoiled rich brat.

I can give every man in this club what they want. I'm good enough for all of them; they would kill to be in Vaughn's place a year ago. I was never the one to crave attention from a man, but something I flowing through me right now. Something is emerging from my veins that I never felt before.

Spite, resentment, anger, grudges. It all formed together to create the need for retaliation, revenge.

For the first time in my life, I have never wanted to get revenge on anyone so bad in my life. And the only way I can do that is to make him eat his heart out. Give other people what he had and thrown away.

"CHERRY! YOU'RE ON!"

I stood, Looking back in the mirror once more at my outfit, all leather; tight leather shorts with my ass cheeks hanging out of each side, a tight leather bra (stuffed with a water pack, I should add), and on my feet? A pair of white cowboy boots- for my first act of revenge on that cowboy.

Although I would roll over in my grave before I would let him see me like this, the fact that he can't have me makes me feel superior. Because, even if he was here, he would be nothing but another drunk on the floor- and I'm the highest one here, the one on the stage. The one everyone is paying to see.

I stepped up on the stage, taking my place- ready for the curtain to open. The music rumbled around me- the curtain pulled open, reveling me, center stage.

Everyone went quite. I kept my head down, and focus on the red locks tickling my cheek bones.

This isn't me anymore. I'm a brand new person, and this world don't know what hit em'.

"Ohhhhh woooaaaah" I sang into the microphone, letting natural reflexes take over again. First, I hesitated when I realized that what I am doing is real, again. And that this is the start of my old like again, everything comes around in a full circle eventually. This is exactly what I had in mind, but I'll take what I can get.

I placed my hand on my belly, wondering again if there is something in there yet.

A light shown on me, lighting up my bright red hair even more. "Ohhh woaaaah!" I let my voice boom through the little club once more. (Cowboy Casanova – Carrie Underwood)

"You better take it from me, that boy is like a disease." I threw the microphone stick on the ground, just to show my spite. Luckily, I grabbed the cordless mic before it smashed on the ground.

"You're running, you're trying, you're trying to hide, And you're wondering why you can't get free" I stepped to the end of the stage, tooching my booty low to the ground
"He's like a curse, he's like a drug" I slowly grinded my hips against air, while I came back into standing position
"You get addicted to his love" I placed my left hand on my little waist and popped it towards the right.
"You wanna get out but he's holding you down'Cause you can't live without one more touch "I walked towards the pole in the middle of the floor, grabbing a hold to it and circling around with a strut.

"He's a good time cowboy casanova
Leaning up against the record machine
Looks like a cool drink of water
But he's candy-coated misery

I dipped the shit out of that pole, I climbed the top, and swirled down around very elegantly. Well, as elegant as it can get.

He's the devil in disguise
A snake with purple eyes
And he only comes out at night
Gives you feelings that you don't want to fight
You better run for your life"

I jumped from the pole, and started walking towards the crowd- a death stare plastered across my face. Before I knew it, I got so into the song that I didn't even realize what I was doing next.

And honestly, I don't really want to know.

I see that look on your face
You ain't hearing what I say
So I'll say it again
'Cause I been where you been
And I know how it ends
You can't get away
Don't even look in his eyes
He'll tell you nothing but lies
And you wanna believe
But you won't be deceived
If you listen to me
And take my advice

He's a good time cowboy casanova
Leaning up against the record machine
Looks like a cool drink of water
But he's candy-coated misery
He's the devil in disguise
A snake with blue eyes
And he only comes out at night
Gives you feelings that you don't want to fight
You better run for your life

Oh you better run for your life
Oh you better run for your life

The crowd cheered, they boomed. They yelled, whistled, threw money on the stage.

I couldn't help but smirk. I wish I never felt this way about something that I hate so much. But maybe, this is the only way to keep him off my mind. This is the only way to let my anger and frustration out.

I walked off the back of stage and into my dressing room.

"Sounds like someone had her heart broken" I heard a voice announce behind me. I glanced up in my mirror to see Dan looking back.

"What's it to you?" I snarled back

He chuckled, raising his hands back over his head "I'm just sayin, this isn't exactly the place to mend a broken heart."

I rolled my eyes into the mirror, What nerve he has to barge in here and start giving me boy advice. "I'm not trying to mend it. I'm trying to live with it" I snarled,

He shook his head, staring into my eyes through the mirror "You t'alk like life is so difficult." He snickered, "I worked 3 months trying to get some sort of recognition in this place. All you have to do it waltz on in, and bam" he rolled his eyes, "You get what you want."

I glared at him through the mirror,

"It seems like you're the type of girl who gets what she wants." He kept making eye contact with my through the mirror, "In this industry, anyway."

I glared back into his blue eyes, "You know my name," I snarled, "Not my story." I broke eye contact from him, reaching down for my make up brush. Deciding not to hold too big of a grudge against him, because I don't really like that guy much anyway. "You 've heard what I've done. Not what I've been through." I trailed off a little, "So, before you decide to make yourself jealous over someone like me- you should find out more information." I chuckled slightly, "Cause honey, I've had to deal with a lotta shit."

He just stared at me through the mirror still. His eyes full of different emotions.

See, I have this special knack- I can look at someone a figure out what their deal is. I can figure out why someone is hostel or confused, sad or happy. And this boy is confused,

I reached down and picked up my red lip stick,

"Hey" Dan mumbled, causing my hand to freeze before applying the lip stick, "I don't think the red lipstick is working for you. Try a lighter pink."

I gave him a quizzical look,

"It's less harsh." He trailed off, turning to walk out of the room, "It will clash with your hair and distract from your eyes."

I chuckled, having him only prove his point to me even more. Dan is as straight as my old weave.

I shook my head, ignoring the fact that I figured out his little 'personal' secret. Maybe I should be nicer to him, and befriend him. I can offer to do a gig or something together sometime- seeing I stole his job back, and he is clearly holding a grudge over that.

I looked back into the mirror at myself,

"CHERRY! 2 MINUTES!" A woman yelled to me,

I smiled, oddly. It's the first time I ever smiled at myself in this mirror. Maybe it's because I like letting my emotion out on that stage, it's the fact that I can be as dirty and raunchy as I want- to get back at that cowboy who clearly had a problem with a woman being promiscuous.

I'm never letting another man get back into my head. I'm never going to become emotionally dependent on anyone ever again- if you show interest in me, I'll be a friend. But if you want to walk out of my life, I'll gladly hold the door open for you. There is no fucking around with me anymore.

I scanned my blood red hair in the mirror against, while applying the light pink lipstick- like Dan told me too, he was right, it's much more flattering.

Besides, I think this red hair is actually starting to grow on me. And, I don't mind this outfit so much either.

AN: Try to picture something like Rihanna's red hair. :)