Page 10 of A Tragic Melody

The drinking came shortly after. She’d pour it down my throat so I would come across as fun at the parties she would drag me to. It was easier for me to talk and flirt with these strangers when I was buzzed or drunk. It warmed my body and distracted me from everything horrible going on around me. Any awkward word out of my mouth could be covered up but the idea I was young, drunk, and stupid. I batted my eyes to get people to listen to my music so I had a chance to achieve stardom, just like my mother wanted.

I ruined her chance at fame, so she would do whatever it took to make sure I made it. My whole life she told me that my job was to make her money. I killed her dream, so I owed her.

Any time I pushed back, she would go on and on about how she should’ve aborted me. I don’t understand why she didn’t. She claims my father begged her not to, promised her a wedding ring, mansion, all the money she could ever want if she had me.

I don’t buy it for a second. As far as I know, he wasn’t there when I was born. He showed up for one birthday when I was two or three, I don’t even remember, but never acknowledged me otherwise. He just disappeared.

She swore she was just about to make it big before getting pregnant. Says she had auditions for leading roles and getting call backs, but I don’t believe it. All she is credited with are parts as extras where you can barely make out her face, so I highly doubt her big break was about to come.

Most likely, my father, a Hollywood hotshot, slept with her backstage or met her at a club. She ended up knocked-up and thought if she kept me, it would force him to stay.

Since that didn’t work out, she figured she would use me to achieve her goals. Let me be her golden ticket out of the poor house. That also didn’t turn out too well for her.

To say I’m sad about that would be a lie. I’m happy she got burnt twice. Even if she blackmails me for the rest of my life, at least I don’t have to deal with her.

I’m pretty sure if I didn’t lose my virginity at twelve to a high school boy I had a crush on, she would’ve sold it to the highest bidder. She’d claim she needed the money to pay rent or get me new headshots. But that was a memory I wanted to own.

My first time wasn’t magical. He wasn’t the big love of my life, but at least I picked him after seeing him outside our apartment. The way my mother had me dress played a decent role in getting his attention, but I won him over with my charm. I liked knowing he wanted me for me, not just my body. We did it, and barely spoke ever again, but at least I made the decision.

My mother wasn’t happy. I know most mothers wouldn’t be happy, either, but her reasons were different. She didn’t spell it out, but I know she was saving that for her own gain. She saw my virginity as hers, but after years of her boyfriends getting off to me or slipping their cocks in my mouth or hands when she passed out, she kind of liked the fact I wasn’t pure anymore. She could work with that. Use that.

I still remember the drug-fueled parties she would throw when I was a teen, putting me on a tiny platform to entertain her guests. Dressed out in skimpy outfits, I would slowly shed them off throughout the night. Men pet me and touched me, eventually making me do sexual stuff with them. My mother let it happen, all in the hopes they would give me a contract. But that never happened. Why would they offer me anything when my mother was so willing to let them use me for free?

She didn’t learn quickly, though. I didn’t have the mind to tell her, either. So, I just let it keep happening, never knowing she was going to use it against me.

She has photos, videos, stories, and other proof that I’m nothing but a cheap slut. She hangs that over my head now, even though it was all her doing. No one is going to care that she made me do these things. Surely, she will frame it in a way that’ll make it look like I was willing.

In some ways I was, but only because fighting back got me nowhere. I had a choice— do as she expected or be kicked out. It was easier to just go along with it. If she kicked me out, I’d be standing on street corners or dead.

Now all I can do is play with lowly men for entertainment, make Hendricks happy, and sing on a stage for the fans. Best not to dwell on it too much.

After Derrick fills my mouth and I spit it out in the bathroom sink, I’m off to watch the magic of Wyatt in person. It makes no sense why he gets on stage with those losers in his band. Clearly, he is far more talented than them. I assume he has some say in the music they play, as well, but it’s dumbed down so they can perform it. No way would any of those idiots be able to come up with those melodies without him.

Seeing him live is outstanding. The show he puts on with a guitar in his hands is moving. His fingers move effortlessly over the strings, the sound coming out of the amp thrilling. He manages to make even simple notes come to life.

Having him know I fooled around with Derrick could hurt my chances at bedding him, but I’ve yet to meet a man who cared who I was with before them. It’s always about who I’m with after that bothers them.

Pitting Derrick and Wyatt against each other wasn’t my plan, but I could make it work. Watching them fight over me could be entertaining. I’m not as stupid as everyone thinks. The blonde hair and sex appeal leads to people believing I’m dumb and easily played, but that’s not true. I know I’m in a competition.

I may have the attention of the fans right now as I’m in the spotlight currently. Headlining this tour is great and all, but I have to make it last. It can fall to the wayside at any moment. I’ve heard the stories, I know how many women before me have risen to the top just to sink back down. That’s not happening to me. I won’t let it.

So, while I screw around, I don’t just do it for the sex—I’m using it as a way to crush the competition. If Hendricks doesn’t hinder them after he finds out, they do it to themselves. They become their own downfall as they let jealousy and envy get in their way.

Pitting men against each other causes them to fight amongst themselves, removes the target off my back. They start going after each other, having a pissing match over me, but I remain safely tucked under Hendricks. I just have to make sure I don’t do anything bad enough to lose his interest. As long as he wants me, I can continue as I am, picking off the men that try to outshine me one by one.

Sadly, my next two victims are Derrick and Wyatt, in all his glory.

It’s evil, sure, but I didn’t sell my life to be nothing. In fact, I never intended to sell my life at all. But since I lost out on my choice, all I can do now is try to control the course. If being evil keeps me in the limelight, I’ll do it. It’s not like I haven’t taken my beatings for all this.

My blood, sweat, and body have been used to get me here. I will bring down whoever stands in my way of staying here.

For me, it’s not about the fame, but getting to go out there and sing. The only thing that I know I have all on my own is my voice. No one can take that from me. I won’t let it get drowned out by stupid men who only want sex and fame.

I’m not fading away.

I’m not fading away.

Black Cat is a terribly boring name with an average singer, but the way Wyatt plays his guitar, creating notes that only a musical genius could dream up, they sound good. Really fucking good. It’s not fair.