DeLuca scares the others away with the knife, stabbing anyone who dares to come close, as I pummel my opponent with no remorse.

“Who’s teaching who a lesson now, huh?” I yell, my fists spreading his blood all over his face.

By the time the guards arrive, his face is already split open at various points, and his nose is crooked as fuck. I probably broke a few bones here and there. The guards blow on their whistles and sound the alarm, yelling at everyone to get down on the ground. I stop at this moment, as I’d rather not get a fucking Taser on my ass. That does hurt like a bitch.

We lie down, and my attacker is groaning from the pain as the officers swarm in and cuff us all. I’ll probably be put in solitary now, but it was worth every punch I gave him.

Nobody messes with my business. Whether it’s ants or a kill, it’s my fucking business, and everyone best stay out of my way … or I’ll take down every last one of them.

***

VANESSA

“And cut!”

When the director calls out, I let out a sigh of relief and pull out the ribbon that holds my hair together.

“God, I’m so thirsty,” I say, as my assistant hands me my bottle of water, which I eagerly chug down.

“Great performance, Vanessa,” the director tells me as we both watch the images on the screen.

“Thank you,” I say with a broad smile. “I think I just needed that final push.” After thirty takes, it was about time.

“It looks great,” my assistant says. “Especially the kiss. It’s really authentic.”

“You think?” I say, fishing for more compliments. I love hearing how good I can fake things.

She nods. “Loved it!”

She gives me a high five as the director shakes my hand and winks. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, David. Great work today. See you,” I say, waving as I walk away.

The smile instantly fades from my face as we walk to my dressing room and my assistant, Paige, keeps on yapping.

“Don’t forget you have an appointment with the vocal coach tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I remember,” I say, as I open the door and walk in, taking off my earrings, which hurt.

“Oh, and before I forget … Happy Birthday!”

She suddenly wraps her arms around my neck, catching me by surprise. I have no idea what to do with this sudden affection, especially when she refuses to take her hands off me after half a minute has passed.

“Thanks,” I say, as I peel her off me. “But I’d rather not know.”

“Why? Twenty-seven isn’t that old,” Paige says.

I place my finger on her lips. “Not another word.”

She frowns at me. “Okay …”

“I just don’t like to hear it.” I shrug.

“Well, I do hope you have a great party,” Paige hums.

I give her my regular fake smile. “Of course. Once I get home, I’m pulling out the champagne.” I wink.

She smiles as if she really believes me. “Good. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” She starts to walk away, but then turns to face me again. Walking backwards, she says, “If you need anything, just give me a call, okay? I’m always there to help.”

“I will.” I smile and wave until she’s gone out of sight and then close the door, sighing.

Either being alone is the best feeling in the world or it’s the scariest thing there is. Trapped in silence is sometimes a good thing, especially after a busy day, but on days like this … it cuts into my soul.

I sit down behind the mirror and grab the face wipes, gently patting down my face until I’ve removed all the make-up. Rinsing my face in a bowl of water, I look at the mask I’m peeling away, layer by layer, until there’s nothing left but a lonely, bitter bitch.

Stripping away everything until only the nakedness remains forces me to face the cold, hard truth. What I see is paperwhite skin, interrupted by an ugly purplish blue bruise. It’s been a long time since I saw one of those, but seeing it now is like a brick to the face. It breaks the façade I hold so dearly.

My eyes grow watery, but I shake my head and take a deep breath, pushing away all thoughts as I clean my face again.

Someone suddenly knocks on my door.

I turn my head, covering the mark with my hair as the receptionist leans in. “Excuse me; someone left these for you at the front desk. I’m supposed to give them to you.”

With furrowed brows and parted lips, I gaze at the enormous bouquet of roses she holds out.

“Who’s it from?” I ask.

She looks at the card and then smiles. “Arthur.”

Something twists at my insides.

I swallow away the lump in my throat as she brings it to me. “I won’t bother you any further,” she says after an uncomfortable moment of silence.

“Thank you for bringing them,” I say.

“Yeah, no problem,” she says, and then she closes the door again.

The roses lie on my desk, right on top of my make-up, and all I can do is lean back and stare at them as if they came out of a long, dried-out well. I can read the note from afar, saying ‘I’m sorry, Vanessa. I didn’t mean to forget your birthday.’

Anger boils up inside me, and I do the first thing that comes to mind. I grab the roses and throw them in the garbage. He’ll have to come up with something better than that to make up for what he did. Especially considering he completely forgot to mention it.

I get up from my chair and put on my coat. Then I put on a big, round hat and some shades, hiding the mark. It’s not perfect, but it’s good enough to get out into the streets without anyone seeing it.

As I walk out of the building so I can get to my car, fans flock to my side, wanting to take a picture with me and demanding my autograph. Of course, I dish them out everywhere, loving the attention. The bright flashes from the cameras clear my head and blur all the bad thoughts swirling through my mind. I do it for these fans, the ones who adore me and love me like no other. I do it for these short moments of happiness, my time in the spotlight, before I have to return to a gloomy, lonely home.

Ignorance is bliss.

CHAPTER 2

PHOENIX

Age 8

“Kapoow! I’m the Phoenix and I’m going to kill you now!” I slam the action figure against the headboard, pretending it’s a giant alien ship coming to destroy the Earth. The hero Phoenix is the only one who can save the day, with his special laser gun firing from his eyes and his super strength, which can even lift the Earth.

I crawl under the sheets and leave Phoenix up, so he can walk over the edge and lift the sheets to unearth a deadly weapon; the giant human robot he’ll use to destroy the alien ship.

But then Phoenix is suddenly ripped from my hand.

“Hey!” I come up from under the sheets and see a boy running away, giggling. “Give that back!” I yell, jumping out of the creaky old bed.

The boy runs down the immense staircase of the old mansion, skipping stairs along the way, while holding my Phoenix high up in the air as if he’s proud that he stole it. He laughs and says, “Come and get it, stupid!”

I frown, grinding my teeth, and then run after him. Nobody touches my Phoenix. He’s the only toy I have. The caretakers only give us one toy each. It’s a stupid orphanage rule because there isn’t a lot of money. At least, that’s what they tell us. Sometimes I wish I had more toys to play with, or friends who don’t want to steal everything that belongs to me.

I rush after him, skipping stairs to catch up. He’s downstairs in the dining hall, trying to hide behind the other kids and use them like a shield.

“Give it back,” I growl.

“No, why would I? You don’t deserve it,” he says.

“It’s my toy. You have your own.”

“I don’t have enough,” he says, holding Phoenix with both hands, almost tearing off his head.

“Stop, you’re breaking it!”

“So what?” He pulls harder. “Are you afraid? Miles is afraihaid, Miles is afraihaid!” He’s chanting now, pissing me off so much that I want to hit him. Everybody starts laughing when they see my angry face.