*Marilyn's Point Of View *

"Miss Jackson, Over here please!", one reporter commands, thrusting his camera into my face. I shield my eyes and tighten my grip on Michael's hand. "Look man, We need to get them in here now. Please move. ", Bill instructs, blocking the man's view of Michael and I. "Well sir, I need a picture of them. So why don't you do us all a favor and get the hell out of the way?", The cameraman retorts, snapping another photo.

Michael sighs then tugs at Bills leather jacket. "Let's just go Bill, Ignore them.", I glance over my shoulder, spotting all of the other waiting camera's and microphones. I still can't believe this is my new life. Refocusing my attention back on our pest, I lean into Michael's ear. "I don't like all of these camera's papa. I didn't think a small commercial could cause a media frenzy.", He glances down at me, pecking my forehead.

"I'm sorry babygirl. It's the price of following your dreams.", I nod, glancing ahead. Bill has long straightened out the pesky reporter, I don't know how and could care less; just as long as that man is far away. We finally enter the Rosemary Studio; where I will be shooting my small commercial. I am repetitive with the word "small" because Well the commercial isn't long of course. It is just a minute and a half.

I thought it was nothing when my supervisor Delores brought the idea to my attention; I could've been anymore wrong. I have one paragraph to say and I continuously mess it up. Michael helped me on our way here but I know I'm still going to mess up. "Miss Jackson! Glad to see you dear!", A man exclaims, approaching Michael and I. Bill stands next to us eyeing the man suspiciously.

Taking notice of our hesitation, He chuckles before introducing himself. "Oh, seem like Marco didn't tell you. Well I'm Pablo Danvan and I will be shooting this commercial for you, misses Jackson.", I smile. "Oh Well, thank-you Mister Danvan", He flicks his waist back. "Ugh, please call me Pablo Danvan is my mother's name...",  Michael and I exchange quick glances.

Pablo laughs loudly, swatting at his knee. "Oh God... Pablo makes joke! Geez, tough crowd. Oh excuse me, Hello, you must be Mister Jackson?", He points to Michael. Michael nods. "Yes sir, I am.", Pablo claps his hands. "This is wonderful!", Turning his back to us, He snaps one hand in the air. "Lisa!!", He screeches, glancing over his should at us.

"One moment...", Michael and I nod and wait. Soon enough a tall, slender, blonde woman pops from behind a stack of magazines. I am presuming that she is Lisa. To be at least three inches taller than Pablo, she inches over to him like a small mouse. "Lisa, Stop acting like that and get over here! You know I have to save my vocal cords for karaoke night.", He huffs.

She nods and takes a spot besides him. "I'm sorry you guys. When you are a brand like I am, It's hard to deal with people. ", He expresses, turning back to Lisa. "Now, Marco... Has to go Lisa. Fire him. And please while you're at it, being me my skim smoothie. Thank-you.",-" Sir we fired Marco last month...", Pablo's eyes bulge.

"What?! So who was in charge of informing Misses Jackson?! God! Just go fire him again! God... ", He commands, rubbing his temple's. Lisa quickly scurries off, clearly wanting to avoid whatever was about to come out of Pablo's mouth next.

"Umm if this was a bad time... I understand-", "No no, Misses Jackson everything is fine. Come, all of you let's talk before we begin huh?", Not giving us a chance to respond, He walks off starting his chatter.  "That guy is nuts...", Michael whispers in my ear. I nudge him. "Shh. That's not nice.", I scold playfully.  He chuckles, shaking his head.

"Tell me Jackson's, How long have you guys been married?", Pablo interrupts us, pointing to a nearby brown, leather couch for us to sit. "19 year's... ", Michael answers, sitting on the couch. I take a seat beside Michael. Pablo gasps. "19 year's.... But you're in you're thirties?", I giggle. "Yes, we married in our early twenties...",

He nods.

"Wow... That's beautiful. Four beautiful children?", Michael and I both nod in unison. "Brandon, Jasmine, Dylan, and Jordyn Jackson.",-"Even more beautiful! I would like to actually do a photoshoot with the entire family. We will still do the commercial but I want the consumers to feel connected to you Misses Jackson.", He explains, pacing in front of us.

"Lisa!!", He screeches once again. She, as on cue, emerges out of thin air with his smoothie and a notepad. Pablo smiles, taking a sip of his smoothie; that is still in Lisa's hand. "Cancel all appointments for this week. I have a new Muse... a Jackson Muse.", He explains with a wide grin. Michael and I exchange glances again. u think we both can agree on the fact that this will be an interesting photoshoot.

*Michael's Point Of View *

"I thought you said you stopped taking them...", I glance at Bill through the stall mirror. "I did...", He shakes his head. "What?! I'm just trying to calm myself! Damn... Stop acting like you're my father!", I snap, glaring at him.

"All I am going to say, is   you should stop while you're ahead. You know you can't keep this away from your family for too long. They will notice the change...", Bill warns. I role my eyes. "I haven't changed! Bill, just shut up! You don't even know anything you're just a damn bodyguard...", I spat, still glaring at him through the mirror.

He stares at me for s minute longer before exiting the bathroom. I sigh and glance at myself in the mirror. I don't see the change he's talking about. I'm fine. In fact I couldn't be better. I glance at the prescription bottle, examining the side effects:

Mood swings? Fainting? Seizures?!

I hadn't even noticed this when I bought them from Doctor Murray. I glance back up at the mirror. Noticing my weight loss in my face, it hit me. I am hurting myself. But honestly I can't stop. They help me sleep, cope, live. I guess that's why they are called depressants.

I exhale deeply, taking one last glance at the man in the mirror. If this is my change, it definitely isn't the change I want. Against my will, I slowly walk into the stall behind me, prescription bottle in hand.

I stand over the toilet and empty out the contents of the plastic bottle. This has been secretly running my life for two month's now. Not anymore, I'm taking it back...

To Be Continued...