Page 2 of A Tragic Melody

It wasn’t like I was doing badly before that, but I wasn’t up to the level Veritas wanted me to be. They were expecting more from me, but it was hard finding touring members who could play everything as I wrote it. I write very technical music, and so I had to dumb down my writing to fit what the average person could play. This led to my music not being nearly as good as it could be.

Hendricks also expected more from me. He would yell at me often, demanding better music, more merch sales, more touring. I learned to tune him out. Part of me hoped he would just kick me to the curb, but another part was determined to make this music thing work. To become big, rise to the top, and have the spotlight, as a way to say I told you so to everyone who doubted me. To my mother, whose last words to me the day she left were I hope you fail. I need to prove her wrong.

So when the chance came to fill in for Key Failures after the lead singer tried to assault Abbey, I begged Hendricks to make it happen. It cost me a night I hope to eventually forget and a sore jaw, but he pulled some strings and got me into those last two shows.

It was all I needed. Her fan base was a great starting point for me. I was able to impress the crowd, capture their attention, and earn their support in just two shows.

I didn’t get to talk to Abbey, though. I wanted to, but not a single word was exchanged between us.

There were about a thousand questions I had for her.

How did she make it to the top? What was it like? How did she manage the pressure? Was she under someone’s control like I was?

I was dying to know so much, but I knew she had a bucket of her own problems, and didn’t need me bugging her with mine. So I left her alone, even though our dressing rooms were right next to each other.

Plus, she was busy hanging on the arm of her hero and new boyfriend, Wesley Whitmore. He literally saved her from being raped, and looks at her like she is the best thing since sliced bread. It’s a bit intense to see, to be honest, but I’m happy for her. She deserves to have someone protect her, save her, love her. She deserves to be happy.

I wish I could look forward to those things, but I know better. I’ll never be lucky enough to find someone to be in my corner, to defend and protect me.

As long as I’m signed to Veritas, and Hendricks remains the CEO, I’m stuck being his plaything. Forced to endure nights like this, where he is on top of me, fucking me without a care in the world, uncaring if I’m enjoying it. That’s how it’s going to be until he grows tired of me, then he will cast me aside and leave me to become someone else’s toy. Because in his eyes, I owe him my life.

It's ironic. I got out from under my mother’s control, just to land in the lap of another person who uses me for his own needs. How fucking tragic.

I wake up alone in a hotel room in Seattle. Thankfully, he left before dawn, so I was able to get some sleep. That means I get a moment of peace before doing back-to-back interviews.

I’m being forced to do a lot of promotion nowadays. Record sales have never been as high as they are right now. Merch is flying off the shelves. And almost every show on my next tour is sold out.

It’s crazy how fast things change. I was bottom of the barrel, the opening act put on whatever tour would have me, but after two shows with the right fans, I’m now on my way to the top.

Quickly, I jump into the shower, desperate to be rid of his scent. There isn’t enough hot water in the world to wash away the feeling he leaves behind when he finishes having his way with me. Not enough soap or bleach to scrub off the reminder of his touch against my skin. However, there is enough liquor.

And at least it is over. For now.

He always comes back, forcing me to fulfill his needs. And I’m so pathetic, I don’t even put up a fight. I just go along with it. It isn’t like I have a choice, anyways.

If I were to try to end my contract, Hendricks would leak details of our ‘relationship’ to the whole world, and no other record label would want me then. I can’t lose my singing career, it's all I have. So, my back is against the wall, and playing along like I like it gives me some agency in my sad life. If I smile and take it, pretend to like it, even, cover up what it really is, he treats me better. And I’ll take all the better I can get.

Skipping over to the mini bar, I pull out two tiny bottles of Jameson. Unfortunately, I drank all the vodka last night, but I don’t have much time to wallow in self-despair. It’s not worth it, anyways. Those feelings do nothing but get in my way, and I need to focus on surviving. Dwelling on the terms of my fame robs me of getting to enjoy the perks.

I sit on the sink, face close to the mirror as I put on my makeup. A light layer of foundation that is half a shade too light. A little blush to make my cheek bones pop. Liquid highlighter to make my face glow. Black eyeshadow to highlight the gray shade of my eyes. Then a nice layer of red lipstick to make my pale skin even more striking.

I leave my long, platinum-blonde hair down. Its length rests just above my ass, and my bangs have grown out long enough to blend in. I debate getting them redone, but right now they add a little halo around my face, so I leave them.

I have a style that the fans are eating up, a bit of that 80s glam rock vibe going, so I try my best to stick to it.

Once dressed, I throw back two more mini bottles of Jameson and have two lines of coke for breakfast, before calling a car.

Today’s first interview will be done with two people representing bands who are joining me on this next tour. Honey Hive and Black Cat.

It’s supposed to be a newcomer’s tour, but Honey Hive has been around for a while, they just haven’t been able to make it big yet. I think Veritas is hoping they will grow as I do. That’s honestly funny to me, because I don’t plan on letting anyone grow beside me.

I’ve been slowly breaking up bands and keeping them down. Being a hot chick in the rock ‘n’ roll scene makes it all too easy to prey upon weak men in shitty bands. They all see me as a silly, dumb girl, so I use it to my advantage.

I’ve been picking them apart like a vulture since I got signed. Hendricks gets jealous easily, and while I’m allowed freedom on tour, that freedom has limits. I sleep around, and he slowly wipes out whoever he finds out about.

Hendricks doesn’t know that I’m using him back. He wouldn’t like that, but I know I can only go so far. There are some people he won’t wipe out even if I offered him my soul. To him, he already owns my soul, and the idea of me asking for anything more than he has already given is an insult.

You’d think that since I’m fulfilling more than his physical needs, but also lining his pockets with money, that he’d offer me something more in return, but that isn’t the case.