EPOV
Breathe. Don't vomit. Breathe. Don't vomit. Breathe. Don't vomit.
"Edward?"
I jump up in my chair, the internal mantra broken by the smack of my thigh hitting the bottom of the table. Flinch, flinch, flinch.
"Shit," I curse, rubbing the spot.
"Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean to—sorry. You have five minute." The mousy intern with the lanyard speaks in stilted sentences. She peeks her head just barely through the door, her hands clenched firmly on the bottom of her shirt. Her cheeks are flushed red as fire, her hair pulled back in a tight bun.
"Thanks," I say to the table.
I rest my elbows on the table and dig my hands into my hair, cradling my head. Alice will be mad. She just approved the stylist's final product. I go back to my mantra.
Breathe. Don't vomit. Breathe. Don't vomit. Breathe. Don't vomit.
My cell phone vibrates on the table. The screen lights up: Alice.
"Where the f-fuck are you?"
"Calm down. I'm almost there." Alice's voice is quick and sharp. I can hear her breathing heavily into the phone. "I got the producers to agree to an expansion. We've got five extra minutes."
I swallow.
"Okay."
"You can do this," she says. "Hold on."
The phone goes silent just as the door to my holding pen opens.
"Get your hands out of your hair!" she cries.
They drop.
"It's going to be fine," she says, pulling up a chair next to mine. The pale cream color of the chair mimics the room. It's designed to be neutral, yet tasteful. I've been in a thousand of these cream-colored rooms.
"I d-d-didn't agree to this."
I swallow again. I know it's bad when the stutter acts up. Alice knows it, too. Her eyes close.
I'm too damn sober.
"I know. We fired your entertainment lawyer yesterday."
"You fired Paul?!" My voice breaks two octaves.
"Edward, he fucked up! You wouldn't even need to be here right now if it weren't for him."
She digs in her purse—endless, that purse—and pulls out the small bottle that has kept me bordering on sane for these last two years.
"I don't want them," I say. I refuse to be another half-human dependent on a synthetic pills just to be normal. I refuse.
"Edward . . ."
"No."
The door opens again.
"One minute," the intern says. She looks like I feel: about to explode.
"Alright, let's go." Alice stands. I blink rapidly.
Breathe. Don't vomit. Breathe. Don't vomit. Breathe. Don't vomit.
The intern leads us past the back of the set. Past the control room. Right to the edge. I don't peek out. I hear the crowd's tittering laugh to whatever the host just said.
Breathe. Don't vomit. Breathe. Don't vomit. Breathe. Don't vomit.
"It'll be fine," Alice says. "Just recite your answers like the publicist said."
"I don't think I c-can do this, Alice." My heart is going to beat right out of my chest, I swear it. I can feel it against my ribcage. It's trying to get out.
"It'll be fine," she repeats.
Breathe. Don't vomit. Breathe. Don't vomit. Breathe. Don't vomit.
The host's booming voice sounds loud and clear.
"Up next, please welcome our exclusive interview with the elusive Edward Cullen!"
I don't move.
"Go, Edward."
I'm frozen.
"Go, Edward."
I see the host's smile falter, just a bit.
"Go!"
Alice pushes my back, breaking me from the trance. I stumble. I'm in view now.
The crowd roars. I blink. The host smiles. I blink. The crowd yells. I blink.
And then I run.