Nothing To Prove

26 I'm Awake, People!

I was wrong.

"You're the girl I'm interviewing soon." Her mom smiled slowly in recognition.

"Aw, give her a lot of attention, mom. This is a big day for her," Stacy cooed. "Little Sam has been trying forever to be under the spotlight. She finally made it after stripping for old creeps." 

The makeup artist scoffed next to me while my jaw dropped to the floor. But I had no chance to even recover before her mom exploded next.

"I wouldn't make fun of a woman for being driven, sweetheart. It's better than living off of me like a leech, then marrying a loser who's dumb enough to provide for you." She laughed, rolling her eyes at me as if we were neighbors sharing gossip. "Kids. Give them everything, they say. No one warns it'll bite you in the ass later."

"I'm so looking forward to that interview." I forced a smile, begging for a miracle to end this nightmare. That miracle appeared in the form of Cara walking up to me. "Oh, God, I love you so much." 

"What?" she asked confusedly, letting me drag her as far away as possible. 

"I just witnessed Stacy getting bullied," I whispered in her ear. "By her mom."

"Serves her right," she cackled. 

I snuck a peek over my shoulder in their direction. Stacy was clutching the armrests of her seat, spaced out at nothing in front of her. Though her profile was tense with frustration, I couldn't help but notice the edges of her lips being pulled down. She looked all alone despite being surrounded by people. And in that moment, I'd never related to her more.

Luka met us by the door and the three of us hugged before separating. The interview room was dark like a movie theater, with overhead lights pointed on a raised platform. A wooden podium on the right, and two couches on the left where Stacy's mom was adjusting her microphone. 

Rows and rows of chairs organized the audience. Buzzing with anticipation. Smartphones out in the air, already capturing the moment. A few production cameras on wheeled tripods were being whirled left and right. Damn. I almost felt like a celebrity. 

"Good luck. Kick ass. Don't let anyone bring you down." Cara squeezed my shoulders behind the side curtain as Stacy's mom announced my entrance. Then I stepped out in front of everyone. The crowd applauded politely. 

I took my seat with tight legs and an equally tight smile.

"Hi, it's such a pleasure to meet you." Stacy's mom flashed a polished smile like a trustworthy legal advisor. "Why don't you tell us a little about what brought you here today?"

Just like the email had described. I word-vomited my quick introduction: how I was an aspiring influencer making healthy lifestyle content, and had been invited to speak of my recent issue of being trapped in a webcam live video, while assuming it was a regular photoshoot. 

"And this was specifically tragic because you were forced into blindfolds," she summarized with an apologetic tone, making my shoulders sink a little. 

"Yeah, I have an intense fear of the dark..." I should've said yes, not yeah. Why didn't I—

"Tell us more about that." 

Of course, I was here to share my trauma. My mouth dry like I had swallowed a spoonful of dust, I flitted my gaze over the audience, whose faces were lost in the dark. Only the outline of their hair and shoulders. Faceless people, paying attention to my every word. This was good, right?

But as I revealed the reason why, with my voice shaking, I felt myself shrink instead of feeling empowered. Unlike the intimacy, the connection I shared with Ashton. When I'd told him the same story while we sat on the itchy couch in that cramped up house in a desert. The tender way he'd looked at me. The soft brush of his knuckles on my cheek. His affectionate murmurs.