7

Nearly twenty minutes had gone by, and Colton's impatience was turning into worry. He wondered if he should go check if Jessica was alright. He'd never seen her drink that much, and it was probably getting to her bad. But at the exact same time he was feeling genuinely concerned for Jessica's safety, the jealous paranoid in the back of his mind was opening its quiet but nasty mouth. Where's Phillip? it whispered. Have you noticed that he's also disappeared? What's he doing? Or should I say...what's he doing with her? Colton thought he heard the voice cackle maliciously, and he suddenly feared that he was going insane.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and spun around violently, ready to embrace his girlfriend or punch an unwelcome visitor in the face. He met neither, but instead encountered a man with sharp features and an angular face, wearing a red fedora and thick black eyeliner.

"Colton, my man," said Synyster Gates, slapping a tattooed hand on Colton's shoulder.

"Sup, Syn." While on tour, Colton had become decent bros with the unholy lead guitarist of Avenged Sevenfold. He was the heartthrob of his day, and always shared with Colton insightful knowledge about female fantarding over a twelve-pack of beers on the tour bus.

"What're you doing alone?"

"Waiting for Jessica. You?"

Synyster rolled his eyes. "Leaving. This place is pretty shit."

"Yeah, " concurred Colton wearily. "I'mma bounce as soon as Jess gets back. Where you going?"

"Nawwww, it was supposed to be a secret, but you're my bro so I'll tell you," replied Syn. He gestured to a door on the far right and gave Colton a cool wink. "Got some bitches waiting for me in the VIP room."

Colton raised an eyebrow. "What about Michelle?"

"Michelle?" Syn let out a easy laugh. "Man, I don't even think she'll mind. I married her for the stability of my image, you know. But living on the road for so many years, I kinda found out that the rockstar doesn't get 'stability'. It's like, I love Michelle and she's a great wife. But she knows that I spend a lot of time away and she gets that I have my own schedule – "

"You haven't told her, have you," said Colton drily.

"I'm a guy, Colton," laughed Syn. "Guys are animals. Can't trust us. We have something good but we want something better." He gave him a slap on the back. "You know our motto," he added, pointing a glossy black nail at him. "He who makes a beast out of himself –"

"– gets rid of the pain of being a man," finished Colton. "Yeah, yeah, I get it."

"See ya, Dixon."

"Later, Gates. Have fun." Colton watched him leave and the band's famed phrase ran through his head. Before he could process it, however, he decided to turn around, and just as he did, Jessica Sanchez crashed into him.

They hugged for a long time. As he stroked his hand through her hair, he noticed she was holding on to him more tightly than usual. When they finally pulled away, he saw that her eyes were a bit red. "Are you alright, baby?" he asked, his hand on her cheek, stricken with worry.

Jessica nodded weakly.

"Have you been crying?"

She shook her head. He wasn't convinced.

"Tell me what – "

"I can't tell you what happened," she suddenly said.

Colton stared. His mind immediately jumped to conclusions. "What..." He hesitated, not sure if he wanted to hear what she had to say anyway. "What do you mean you can't tell me? I'm here for you. I'm your boyfriend." He heard the desperation in his voice.

Jessica averted her eyes. "Because you'll get mad at me," she mumbled, like a child being yelled at by her parents.

A chill ran down his spine. So the jealous paranoid was right. What did he do to her? "Tell me what happened, please, Jessica," Colton pleaded as calmly as he could. "I promise it'll be alright." He struggled to keep his composure and suppress the rising anger in his chest. "Who was – "

"It was no one," she interrupted again.

"What?"

She gave an exasperated sigh. "Okay, fine. I'll tell you what happened," she said, looking him straight in the eye. "But promise not to get mad."

Colton nodded, but the insane jealous paranoid was already preparing to beat Phillip to the ground.

Jessica's face relaxed into a weary half-smile. "Look, Mike, I was feeling terrible after all that drink, so I went outside to throw up. Then I still felt like crap, and I needed to feel better and unwind, and there were a couple of my friends smoking a joint in the corner. So I joined them." She pointed to her red eyes and shrugged, indicating the end of her story.

Colton blinked. He couldn't believe that was actually a lot better than what he'd expected, and then he couldn't believe himself for suspecting her the way he did. It finally hit him now how senselessly paranoid he was being. He felt so guilty he wanted to apologize to her, but then he would have to explain his suspicions. The least he could do was to believe her.

So he reached out and tousled her hair. "Okay, babe, glad you had fun," he said, smiling disarmingly, then putting on his teasingly stern face. "But don't do it again. You're straight-edge and a role-model. Stay that way."

"Yeah, yeah, fine." Jessica rolled her eyes. "Hey, you know what, let's go."

"Should we wait for Phillip?" Colton heard himself say. That wasn't him speaking. That was the jealous paranoid. He realized it was testing her.

He searched her ruby-tinged black eyes, but found nothing at all. There was nothing there to see. No flash of hesitation, no blink of surprise. Nothing. They looked earnestly and honestly back at him. She was telling the truth. "I haven't seen him," she said. "But I'm not feeling good. He'll leave on his own. Let's just go home."

"Isn't it kind of rude to just ditch a guest?" That thing was on a roll.

Jessica frowned at him quizzically and shook her head. "Mike..."

"What?" he asked, far too loudly.

"Let's go home."

They sat in silence in the taxi, but it wasn't an awkward silence. As Colton watched Jessica sleeping serenely on his shoulder, he was enveloped by a sense of security. The paranoia slipped away into the air as he mulled over the events of the evening. Perhaps it had turned out more turbulent than he'd imagined, even though he should have expected it; after all, Phillip was a long-estranged friend whom she had had feelings for, and Colton realized that he'd probably underestimated the intensity of those feelings. But he recalled that she was only twenty-one, still so young. She had just been confused and drunk.

She still loves me, he thought. And the more he looked at her peaceful, sleeping face, her mind soaring off in some fantastic colorful dream he wished he could see, the less he doubted that thought.

The taxi pulled up to her studio. Jessica had asked to go there instead of her place; apparently she wanted to get some work done. Colton had tried to talk her into going home and getting some rest, but she wouldn't be persuaded. Now he gently shook her awake.

"You work too hard," he said softly as she kissed him goodbye.

She said nothing, but smiled and hummed the outro to his favorite song.

And even as I stumble

I'll work hard, stay humble

As the walls come crumbling down.

As the world comes crumbling down.

They weren't living together yet, but she was almost certain that had she chosen to go home, he would have stayed over with her, and she didn't want that. She couldn't bear to look at his face. Every second of that terrible confrontation in which she forced herself to stare into his eyes so that he would believe her lies filled her with guilt. But the worst part wasn't the kiss, or the story, or the lies. It was that he seemed to believe every word. It hurt to watch him believe her. He was so sweet, so kind, so trusting.

And so gullible. She suddenly felt a sick satisfaction at how convincing her acting had been. Of all the Hollywood chick flicks and giant robot movies she'd been in, this was by far her best performance. She laid back on the futon in her studio, stretched out and let it all sink in – and as she relaxed, another sick pleasure crept to the surface. It had only lasted for a fraction of a second, but it had happened all the same: she'd kissed Phillip back.

She had planned to start working on the song overnight, but it was seeming less and less likely in her physical state. At the rate she was fading out it probably wasn't going to happen, so she decided to spend some time learning the lyrics. She put on her headphones, but less than a minute into I Lost You, she was already asleep.

There he was again, heartlessly gleeful, standing with that cheesy grin in front of her and the audience. She understood that Ryan Seacrest was only doing his job, but did he have to be such an glib, unsympathetic, gloating dick about it?

The dimmed Idol stage and the anticipating crowd were sights that rang a less-than-comfortable bell, but something felt unfamiliar about the arm around her. There was something off about that grip. It didn't feel right; for some reason it didn't feel like him. Then she understood why. She wasn't on the correct side. She was standing to his left instead of his right. Confused, Jessica glanced involuntarily at the hand resting on her left shoulder.

Strangely enough, it wasn't Phillip's hand but a woman's.

Jessica immediately turned her head right to comprehend what sorcery was going on. Sure enough, she looked not into his brilliant turquoise eyes but the gentle brown ones of Elise Testone, who smiled understandingly back even as the pressure evident on her own face looked ready to destroy her. It dawned on Jessica that this was the Top 7 elimination.

Ryan's ever-cheerful voice thundered across the studio."And the person at risk of leaving us tonight, after the nationwide vote, is..." Elise looked down, thinking she was done for. Jessica knew otherwise, but she followed suit so that she wouldn't spoil the big surprise.

"Jessica Sanchez!" There it was.

This time around, Jessica knew not to miss a beat. Instead of looking downwards with the horror and dread of elimination, she instantly turned to Elise, and she caught the expression she'd wanted to see: the flash of relief in Elise's eyes that it was Jessica and not her. Of course Jessica knew it was natural, but she always found it interesting, yet was always too far from the elimination scene to see it happening. Now that her curiosity was satisfied, she hugged Elise, took the mic from Ryan, and tried her best to recall the lyrics to Nobody's Supposed To Be Here.

Then something else caught her eye, and her heart nearly stopped as chills rocked her body. There was Phillip on the safe seats, looking shocked and outraged. This was pretty much where it started...

The piano backtrack began to play, but Jessica could barely speak. She coughed and cleared her throat, trying as hard as she could to not look at Phillip. But the judges' expressions were not a big improvement. For some reason, they seemed off too. Something was wrong. Jennifer's face was blank, and Randy and Steven looked ominously stoic. In a trembling voice Jessica began to sing.

I've spent all my life...

She couldn't help it, and stole a look at the safe seats. Phillip was mouthing, "Save her!" and motioning urgently for the judges to get up.

On a search to find...

Phillip was still gesturing frantically. She turned back to look at the judges – and what she saw froze her from the inside. They were still in their seats. Jennifer had not gotten up to save her. All of a sudden Jessica's voice caught in her throat. She swallowed and tried again, but no matter how hard she tried, no sound came out. The backtrack faded. The crowd hushed, and the safe idols exchanged worried glances and whispers.

"Save her, you fucking idiots!"

A sharp crack burst through shocked gasps from the audience as Phillip got up forcefully from his seat, red in the face. The judges paid no attention to him at all. Steven was shaking his head.

"Look, Jess, I know you've been a great singer and all, but I think we're gonna have to let you go," he said.

"I'm sorry, baby," said Jennifer.

Randy was nodding wistfully. "I agree. I'm sorry, Jessica. Someone has to go home."

"Are you out of your mind!?" exploded Phillip, striding to the judges' table and grabbing Randy by the throat. "No one has to go home, you lying piece of shit," he seethed, his green eyes smoldering with rage. "You've got a save, and if anyone should be saved it's her. She's the best singer I've ever heard, and she's going home? Are you fucking kidding me – "

Security tore an uncontrollable Phillip away from Randy, but by now the audience was cheering wildly. For him? For the judges? For her? Jessica didn't know, but as she watched on, paralyzed and eerily detached from the fray, she saw Nigel motion to the security guards to keep Phillip on the set, and she could almost swear that he mouthed the words, "It's good TV."

Even as Phillip screamed furious slurs at the judges and struggled to free himself of the guards' iron grip, life seemed to be moving on. The audience, while still raucous, seemed to have accepted the result, and Ryan had already taken the mic from Jessica. "America and the judges have made their decision," he announced. "And so we say goodbye to Jessica Sanchez, ladies and gentlemen!"

Jessica felt an arm wrap around her shoulder. She turned and stared with horror into the face of Colton Dixon. He was wearing a smile that was meant to reassure but, at this moment, filled her not with comfort but with utter disgust. "Don't worry," he said, still smiling, putting his face close to hers. "I'm sure you'll have a very successful career." In the split second he reached out to hug her, Jessica saw on his face the exact same expression she had seen on Elise just a few minutes ago. He was glad it was her, and not him.

She jerked away in revulsion. "Get away from me," she whispered coldly.

Colton smirked. "I'll see you at the finale."

"NOW!" she screamed.

From the safe seats, Hollie pulled out a gun and shot Jessica in the head.

Jessica woke up at 3AM in a cold sweat with tears stinging her eyes.

She didn't hesitate; she let them flow.