The Client

The Downfall

"Olena, are you ready?" A stagehand calls me over.

"Yeah! One moment, let me just touch up my lipstick!" I shout back.

"You're on in 3"

Gee, what a rush!

I'm Olena Astor, A Victoria secret Angel. I'm currently backstage at the Jimmy Kimmel show.

I'm doing a quick interview with him in three minutes according to the stage hands.

I'm pretty nervous if i'm honest, I haven't done an interview for a while, not on live TV anyway.

Live tv is always nerve racking, you can't edit things out and once you've said something, everyone's heard it and seen it.

I quickly dash into the dressing room to grab my lipstick.

I instantly spot a note on the table. It's magazine letters cut out and pasted onto plain paper.

Must be fan mail, I get this sort of stuff all the time.

It reads;

"Is your blood as pretty as your skin, Olena Astor?"

Oh my god.

Surely this sick joke.

Someone is playing around for sure.

Who's pranking me?

Am I over reacting? Surely this isn't normal.

It sounds threatening right?

"Olena? I need you side stage now please" The same stage hand calls.

I stay still, frozen and silent.

I can't move. I'm panicking.

The stage hand comes in looking for me but I can't take my eyes off the note.

Why would anyone say that? I don't understand.

What does it mean?

Panic sets in.

I can't go out there.

The culprit could be in the audience.

"Olena is everything okay?" The stage hand asks.

"I uh - I" I can't speak.

He grabs the note out of my hand.

"Is someone having a joke with you?" He asks.

"Someone is stalking me or something I-I-I don't know!" I manage to get out, stuttering and rambling.

"No no I'm sure it's fine. They're just messing with you. You will be fine you have a guard" He tries to brush it off.

"I don't have a guard" I gulp, trying not to burst into tears.

"Oh yeah, you're the girl who's guard was taking inappropriate photos of you" He realises.

Gee thanks, remind me of that event why don't you? Really making me feel good here.

"Well, don't worry. There's plenty of crew around it'll be fine. We'll get someone to escort you home" He assures me.

I nod, still not wanting to go out there in front of the live audience and millions of viewers behind screens.

If someone were planning to hurt me, this would be the perfect forum; a live tv show.

"Okay? just relax. Here we go" He ushers me behind a curtain.

I hear Jimmy speak.

"Please give a huge welcome to Victoria Secret Angel Olena Astor!" He pipes.

The curtain opens and I'm faced with a bright white lite blocking my vision of the audience.

I am like a deer in headlights.

Jimmy walk over an whispers into my ear.

"Smile"

I fake smile and wave at the audience.

"Hi! Hello, how are you?" I say, clearly coming across fake.

I am looking around frantically. Everyone I lock eyes with could be the stalker.

Are they here? Who is this sick person?

More importantly, how did they get in my dressing room?

Thoughts are running frantically around my head. I'm not focused on the task at hand at all.

I'm honestly petrified.

We get on with the interview and I calm down somewhat.

Jimmy continues asking me questions about modelling.

I stay relatively relaxed until he asks;

"So what's it like knowing there's a lot of girlfriends that want you dead?"

The audience laughs.

I don't.

I feel my stomach rising again.

It doesn't feel good at all Jimmy.

I think to myself.

I am about to be sick.

I lean forward to grab the glass of water on the table in front of me.

As I do, a loud shot along with an eruption of screams fill my ear drums.

I see everyone in the audience start running and screaming.

What the fuck is going on.

I'm going into shock.

Once again I'm frozen in my seat.

Please no.

God no.

Have I been shot?

Did someone just shoot.

Who did they shoot?

Jimmy screams "GO TO COMMERCIAL! GO TO COMMERCIAL!"

Suddenly someone has grabbed me out of my seat as i'm literally frozen in place again.

I don't know whether someone has been shot, I'm dead or i'm dreaming.

I could be being dragged away by the shooter, I'm not actually sure. It feels like I'm unconscious but I can still see.

Im dragged behind a curtain as everyone clears out in a rush.

"Does this happen to you often?" I hear who I assume is a stage hand ask.

"Never" I whisper and let my emotions flood through.

I'm crying my eyes out.

Someone's trying to kill me.