Disclaimer: I don't own The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Ha! I've written that so many times that I might as well be allowed to own it.
A/N: Hopefully this isn't too angsty. Though the first part is intentionally a bit silly, since Columbia is going a bit crazy.
Monday, March/?/1974 (Almost Midnight)
Dear Diary,
I'm questioning my desire to stay at the castle. Again.
It's because Frank summoned me to his room at about 11:30. The last few days he's been sort of avoiding me. Now, the world is back to normal.
Yet I'm not sure if that's actually a good thing.
In some ways he's like the drugs I once took to bleach all the pain from my mind. It didn't work, of course. The false happiness only lasts a little while. Then I'm depressed, which is worse. When I sleep with Frankie I tell myself that he actually loves me. I make up stupid stories about us being in a proper relationship. Once he's sent me back to my room, however, I can't keep believing that. It all makes me feel a bit sick.
Stupid as it sounds, I want to run away with Eddie. A guy I've only known for a day or two. We'll go somewhere in England or whatever. But that sort of thing only works in stories.
I'll probably say something to him tomorrow. That's half the reason I'm writing this entry, I think. So I can remember what silly things I want to say to Eddie and Magenta.
Speaking of my crazy, vampire wannabe of a roommate… she left the room while I was asleep earlier. I bet she's gone to visit her 'darling brother' Riff Raff. Where else would she go in the middle of the night?
Ha! I envy Mags. That lucky girl has a lover who actually loves her. Like Eddie might one day… if Magenta was right and he really does love me.
I can't help but wonder… am I actually in love with Frank? Or is it just some weird psychological disorder that's induced by drugs or whatever? Or some alien drug that makes me be some sort of deranged fangirl?
Oh dear. I'm too tired to think of a proper answer.
Ye Gods, it's late! I should go to sleep now.
- Columbia (a groupie)
Tuesday, March/?/1974
Today I didn't see Eddie at all. Just after breakfast, Magenta explained that he's now a project Frank is working on.
"Remember how, when he first got here, there was talk of The Master trying to turn that boy into a proper gentleman?" she asked.
I nodded.
"Well, today they've begun lessons of some kind."
For a moment we stood there in silence. We were in the library currently. This week is apparently when Mags dusts the entire library.
"Why does he want to turn Eddie into some sort of civilized gentleman?" I asked.
Mags shrugged. "I think its because he misses the royal court he had at home. And it'll give him something to do while my brother figures out all the details for the science project."
"What science project?"
"The secret science project of which I mustn't speak," she replied vaguely.
At that, I rolled my eyes. "You don't know what it is."
She gave me a Look and then didn't speak to me for the rest of the morning.
After our conversation in the library I went to my room to find tomorrow's outfit. It involved these fingerless fishnet gloves I found on the floor earlier. Speaking of things on the floor…
Magenta probably wants me to clean up my half of the room. I won't until she actually tells me to, though.
Once I'd found an outfit, I rehearsed my 'intentional wardrobe malfunctions'. If I were ever in a picture show or stage performance I'd probably try to see how much I could get past censors. Not that I'll actually ever be in such a show.
I ate lunch with only Magenta.
"You've got to stop obsessing over guys, Columbia," she told me.
"I'm not."
She sighed. "You are.
"For the last three years or so I've relied on guys to survive. After I ran away I would've starved if I hadn't met that band," I replied unhappily.
"You've got to stop relying on them for everything, though. It's silly. If you actually make an effort to be independent you'd be better off."
I hated that she was right. God, I feel like something out of a stupid 19th century novel. In those days girls had pretty much no rights. Since most of the world thinks I'm dead (and I have no IDs of any kind), I'm practically no better off.
How dreary.
Thankfully, I managed to keep my mind mostly on what my feet were doing during my tap dance practicing in the ballroom. I kept thinking about both Eddie and Frank.
Maybe Magenta is right about not relying on them. But I'm kind of kept prisoner here…
Dinner was awkward. Everyone was there. We just listened dully as Frank droned on and on about whatever it was.
After dinner I went to my room. Then, I repainted my nails. And now, of course, I'm writing this diary entry.
Oh, by the way, I just read that entry I wrote around midnight last night. It sure was melodramatic. Ridiculously melodramatic. I suppose everything seems like that in the middle of the night.
- Columbia (a groupie)
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