Page 19 of Riot

It has always been like this, as if I don’t truly exist in this life or this world.

It’s as if I’m a light that is simply turned on to shine for others, and then when I’m switched off, I am forgotten once more.

Nobody cares what happens in the dark, when my light doesn’t shine. I smile and say I’m fine when they ask because they don’t want to soil themselves with the darkness that festers in my soul.

I was born this way, or maybe I was made this way. I don’t know. All I know is that I have fought these demons every day for as long as I can remember. I don’t crawl into bed and never come out, instead I disconnect from the world. I just stop feeling. I’m living, but none of it really matters, and suddenly days or months later, I come back online and realize I have been moving along like a machine. I know what it is, although I didn’t for a long time until I worked up the courage to go speak to someone.

It’s depression.

Every time I have been hurt or let down, it rears its mocking head, waiting for me.

I was hurt so many times, I thought there was nothing of me left, so I never let anyone in. If I did, they could hurt me or realize there was nothing left for them to hurt.

It didn’t stop them from trying though.

All the rocks they threw have honed me into the perfect, glittering diamond sharp enough to cut anyone who comes too close. It keeps me safe but alone.

I drift aimlessly through the house until I find myself in the piano room, the one that faces his house. I see lights shining brightly inside, and for a moment, I ache to be bathed in them and feel as much as he does, but I turn away.

I’m not the diamond he thinks I am.

I’m not gentle or kind, and tonight he saw that, and now he doesn’t want me, just like everyone else.

I didn’t have the option to be gentle, soft, and loving. I had to split my knuckles to protect myself so they wouldn’t come back to hurt me again.

I lie in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling. Sleep eludes me like always, but for once, I don’t reach for the pills. I want to feel this darkness. I want it to hurt. Maybe that’s fucked up, but to me, it’s my constant companion.

It reminds me I’m alive, even when I don’t feel like I am.

I never tell anyone that I crave the pain or that I was formed this way by my father.

Kage asked about him today, so maybe that’s why I take a trip down memory lane, even though he is the very last person I ever want to think about.

He was Agille, the infamous rock star, known for his music, his bad-boy ways, and his epic parties—parties that were some of the worst horrors of my life, parties that scarred me and made me into the ice queen.

Yes, to everyone else, my father was an icon, but to me, he was my abuser. He was my hell, and I don’t say that lightly.

I’ve never seen healthy love before, and maybe that’s why Kage terrifies me so much, because what he has for me isn’t healthy either.

It’s an obsession. Why can’t I stop thinking about it?

My fingers trace over my lips.

He tasted so alive, and for a moment, I was alive as well. I came to life with his kiss, with his hands, and then he took it all away, and now I’m left cold and wanting.

Fuck him.

Fuck them all.

I sit in the interview chair. I look calm and composed, but my heart is thundering. I refused a lot of interviews after the one that exposed my ex, but I refuse to show fear when that’s what they want. Plus, Jimmy is a good guy. I don’t know about his new co-host, Henry, but I don’t back down. I’ve been putting this off, and I can’t anymore. My label made that clear.

I need to stay relevant.

“So, Fallon, we saw your stunning debut at the premiere last night.” I grin at the pictures that flash on screen. I look good. “And not just that, but with a surprising date, the one and only Kage.” The crowd goes wild, and I swallow, swimming through my muddled feelings. “How did that come about?”

I chuckle. “I needed a plus one.”

“And you managed to snag the most eligible bachelor in the entire world.” Henry chuckles. “How blessed is your life?”

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