Apathy. Self-loathing. Extreme anxiety about the outside world and depression. I've never felt this way until the arrest. I've never felt this way until humanity's faith in me slowly faded away. I feel like one of those ancient gods in American Gods—abandonment and dwindling adoration never looked this pitiful. Unlike those gods, I can't function. Not like this.

I thought the stunt at LAX wouldn't be that bad to the press and everyone would see how I've been wronged. Yeah, that didn't happen. Every media outlet made me look like a monster, like a stuck up rich kid who thinks he can get away with anything. The general public bought that persona and now people hate me more than when I entered the industry!

Of course I reacted when everyone suddenly bombarded me with negativity. It's easy to ignore social media, but paparazzi are inescapable. So are people who degrade me in person. I flipped out, swore, pushed people, and made threats I didn't mean when I was provoked. It just so happens to be each time I leave the house now. I can't be blamed for having feelings and being human.

I don't really care anymore. They'll continue to drag me down and use the tiniest excuses to validate their hatred. If someone leaks anything incriminating, it'll only worsen. Everyone wants to see me destroyed. Well, there's no use in fighting back when it's the entire world against me.

Lorraine's gone for the entire day because she has some school related thing out of the city, so I'm all alone for the time being. I seem to be by myself a lot since Marquilla split. It's like my new normal, which is still so weird for me to grasp. I was constantly looked after by my team, and now I'm free to do what I want. I don't even have Skeeter to bug me since the girls won't tell him where I am! I'm completely alone now.

That's why I'm surprised Lindsay called Lorraine about me. I thought she forgot about me since she has Sofia's brother. Lindsay's totally living the life in Paris right now with her perfect boyfriend and those perfect twins. I sound super bitter, but knowing she's so happy and far away hurts! It sucks more that Freddie or whatever his real name is so beloved by everyone.

So where does that leave you, Jason Declan Flamel? I wonder as I stare at the ceiling. Where do you fit in this equation? What makes you so irreplaceable that has everyone worrying about you? You know it's complete bullshit. They don't really care about you Jase—nobody does.

You've been out of the spotlight for what, a couple months now? Someone's bound to come along and replace you. Marquilla hasn't yet but whoever she dates next, he'll be a thousand times better than you...

I shouldn't think about this because it'll make me more depressed. I don't want anyone to worry, but Lorraine just had to tell Lindsay about that! They have enough to keep them busy; they have their own lives to live. They don't need to feel sorry for me just because I was dumped. They should mind their own businesses, really. All I've been is a burden to them.

I glance at the two scars on my right forearm. They've dulled into two red-brown lines. It's been a couple weeks since I etched them onto my body—a couple week since I've felt this low. I thought it'd make me feel better, and it did.

I rush to the bedside table and yank open the drawer. Light makes the metal gleam and easy to find. Bingo! I exclaim as I grip the scissors and lift them up. Just what I was searching for.

I close the drawer and sit on the edge of Lindsay's bed. The scissors' blade shines. I run a finger along its dull side and hold it up to my face.

Swish!

I smirk at the open blade and slowly place it between my fading scars. I haven't added pressure yet, but I can feel the blade's sharpness; it's really sharp.

You've done it already. Just do it! Apply pressure and don't be afraid to go deep, I tell myself. Just don't go too deep, Jase. You don't want to die yet...or do you?

I shut my eyes the moment I feel the metal dig into my skin. Searing pain escalades as the seconds pass, and I bite my lip so I don't scream. As blood oozes from my skin, or so I assume, I ironically taste a tint of iron as my lip bleeds. I stop biting on it and squeeze my eyes shut tighter, giving the blade one final push down.

Seconds later, the scissors fall to the floor and I collapse. I open my eyes and breathe deeply, still without seeing what I've done. I don't want to see how much blood my forearm is losing. I don't want to see blood on the blade. I just want to sleep off my now woozy head.

Unable to take the pain, I shut my eyes, desperate for sleep and a peace of mind. It's not as simple as that. I wish I could shut my mind—my consciousness off as easily as I can my eyes. I'd feel so much better about myself because that would mean more rest. But life can't be that way. Everything has to be difficult.

Maybe you need a distraction, Jase. Maybe you just need some fresh air, I think as I toss onto my other side. Last time you were outdoors, people bothered you. No. Paparazzi bothered you when all you wanted was to pick up your family. People ruin the tiniest things for you because they can't respect your personal bubble.

A sound decides for me—a text or something. I groan and roll over to reach my phone. I should have turned it off. It's probably just Lorraine being a mom and telling me to feed myself. She literally sends me texts whenever she's out to make sure I eat after I went through two days of refusing food. In my defense, I was sick and couldn't stomach anything.

Audrey: You're trending on Twitter right now and it's not good. Just thought I'd let you know. Don't look at the picture if you don't want to get upset.

Okay, that's not what I expected. Obviously, I need to find out why I'm trending. Advising me not to look at whatever it is doesn't make sense. It's the equivalent of telling a kid something's restricted. It's human nature to chase after something forbidden or restricted because curiosity wants us to discover what it is. That's why I perused Lindsay's bookshelf.

I shoot Audrey a response saying to not worry about me. She definitely has been over the past couple weeks. Whatever it is can't be that bad. It's probably a stupid rumor. People assume things all the time; there's nothing new. You get used to it in this industry because that's how those "journalists" make a living. They tend to fizzle after a few days.

My mentions are through the roof—I'm number one on the worldwide trends. I'm just getting it over with and see what all the fuss is about, so I tap on my name.

"Where the hell did this come from?" I spit as I gaze at the picture that caused the commotion.

The picture in question shows me apparently with drugs. There's some white stuff on the table in front of me. From the looks of it, I'm about to snort coke. Thing is, I've never don't it before. Wait, I have once just for experience, but before that, I never touched a single gram of coke. The reason why I did it was because I was with Marquilla and I wanted to impress her. She lent me some of hers at a friend's house party, and I did it.

"This doesn't make any sense!" I groan as I read the tweets. "How did this get out? Who would be this cruel to do this to me? What did I ever do to them?"

As I continue scrolling through the horrendous comments, I try to think about the people who hate me so much, they'd want to ruin me. It's kinda hard after severely cutting yourself, but the first person in mind is Skylar due to happened at the hospital and the text she sent me last week.

"You're on your way to being the most hated person in the industry. It'll only go downhill from here on out."

Skylar doesn't like you at all, I think as I exit out of Twitter. You remember how much she shaded you for no reason? Well, maybe this is her way of taking it to the next level. She probably thinks you're the one who hooked Marquilla on coke too.

It's a long shot since she's so busy with the new album, but I phone Skylar. As I wait for her response, my vision blurs. Weird how I've been sitting in the darkness for hours and my eyes decide to unfocus for no reason. Maybe it's a side effect of that cut. My head is still spinning, but it's not too painful.

I lie down and close my eyes after putting the call to speaker. Skyar still isn't picking up, so all I hear is the line trying to connect and my breathing. Moments later, it stops.

"This is a surprise," Skylar greets me. "I never thought you'd ever want to speak to me again."

"Why is this shocking to you? I wonder. "Sky, have you been online at all today? If you have, then you'd know why I went straight for you."

"For you information, Jason, I have an album to promote! I don't have much time for internet right now, but I did see that picture. You know what? I was right about you and the coke all along! YOU did that to her—YOU got Marquilla hooked! You need to stay far, far away from me, Jason! If I knew you were a coke addict too, I—"

"I AM NOT!" I shout, angrily pounding a fist on the mattress. "You know she did it before she met me, right? You can't fully blame me when I knew nothing about it when I met her. I didn't know she was on it until halfway through the Our Universe Tour! She started back when she was with Nils. It was partially why Reli was hospitalized. Sh—"

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Skylar presses. She seems desperate for me to be wrong. I can tell by her tone. "This could be some bullshit lie to protect yourself so you don't seem like the bad guy here. It's totally all your fault, Jason!"

"If you don't believe me, ask someone you actually trust," I offer. "Better yet, why don't you ask Reli or Marquilla? You could always ask Josh. I mean, he was there too."

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU!" she sobs.

"What? What'd I say?" I ask, puzzled by why she's suddenly so upset. "You didn't leak those pictures to make everyone hate me?"

"No! I wish I had now that you brought up—never mind! You're such an asshole, Jason! I don't care how nice you are to everyone or how talented you are. None of that matters because y—"

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. "Skylar, I haven't done anything to you. I'm sorry if I made you feel threatened or uneasy. I really admire you as a person and artist. I-I don't want you to hate me, okay? I really don't. I want us to get along as much as you and Marquie do. I don't want to be your enemy. I think you're amazing! And...Danny's really lucky to have you."

Skylar mutters something I can't interpret and exhales deeply. I'm not positive, but I think she's choking back nice words to say to me. There's something about the way she's clearing her throat that makes her sound like she's admitting defeat.

"Look, I know exactly how you're feeling about the breakup. I was that way after Josh dumped me," she confesses. "M only advice is to not let it mess with you. Don't do anything you might regret later on. I managed because I let everything out in my songs. Sora and Carmen told Lindsay you're a pretty good songwriter too. Put that to good use in your next record."

"Wow. Um...thanks," I muster, baffled by her advice. "That's a great tip, Skylar. I appreciate the help."

"Don't push your luck, Flamel!" she laughs. "I'm just trying to help you out from one artist to another. I'm not totally against you. I can relate, you know? She meant everything to you. And Josh..."

"You still like him, don't you?"

"Good night, Jason!"

In light of the picture, I feel oddly amazing. My headache is gone too. I didn't know Skylar could be that nice to me. She's been nice to me in my early days, but this is different. I didn't even know she still likes Josh! I assumed she's completely over him because she's successful and moved on. But love is problematic for both of us.

Just don't let that picture bother you and you'll be fine, I remind myself as I shut my phone off. As long as you stay secluded and pay no attention to the media, you're good. You won't hurt yourself again if you ignore that. You'll be alright, Jason. You'll make it out of this and come back a better man.

***

My nap is violently interrupted by someone shaking the living daylight out of me. I grumble at this rude awakening and open my eyes, only to be met by Lorraine. She shouldn't be here right now! I swear she's supposed to be out for longer than a day. Yet she's here...hovering over me.

"Rise and shine, Jason!" she chirps with a toothy grin that reminds me of her sister. "We have some uh, things to discuss. There's also someone here who is very interested in seeing you. And by that, I mean Skeeter. Somehow, he found out you're staying here. He won't leave until he sees you. You might want to freshen up."

Lorraine doesn't look like she's joking. The lights are blinding me because they haven't been on for days. I begrudgingly rise and head to the bathroom. One look in the mirror, and my stomach churns. I thought I'd look better than before because of the nap, but I'm sickeningly ghastly! Pale skin, dark and sunken eyes, cracked pink lips... Skeeter will kill me if I can't make myself decent!

I decide to gamble and stick to washing the sleep off of my face. It's the laziest effort I've ever put into my appearance, but I can't be bothered with doing more. I'm simply tired and frankly, I don't care. I just grab a light jacket and shrug that on so he doesn't see my scars. Skeeter can yell at me all he wants once he sees how unkempt I am.

But he doesn't yell when I enter the living room. In fact, he doesn't make a single sound. Skeeter merely stares, stuck in facial and bodily expression. I don't know how he can be so collected when I'm sweating bullets. 

The closer I am to the sofa, I become more frightened for what's to come. I'm genuinely scared of what he'll say. He's giving me nothing to follow.

Lorraine brings out refreshments and a plate of peanut butter and caramel cookies, similar to the ones I had on tour, and sets them on the table. I plead for her to stay, to relieve the bitter tension I'm feeling, but she curtly nods and carries on, leaving me alone with my manager.

I grab a cookie and take a bite so I don't have to be the first to speak. I don't even know what to say! How am I supposed to talk to Skeeter when I shut him out of my life and failed to let him in on the move? I don't want to think about he scolding I'm about to receive! He's worse than my mom sometimes!

"At least you still have an appetite," he notes as I reach for two more cookies. "That's the only thing I've noticed about you that isn't different. I can't say the same about everything else. Wh-what's going on, Jason? You don't look so well. Are you sick?"

"I'm fine," I spit. "I'm totally fine, okay? I haven't done anyth—"

"Do you know what people are saying, Jason? When Sofia told me you were here, I knew I had to see you. Do you have any idea what's happening right now?"

I scratch the back of my neck and cock my head to the side as anxiety weighs in.

"Um...n-not really. I've been avoiding social media so I don't think about it. If I do, it'll make things worse for me."

"Worse for you? Jason, what about everyone else? This isn't just about you. What about your fans? What about me?"

Great. Now my stupidity is everyone else's failure. I'm not exactly doing my label any favors for what's happened, but that doesn't mean they should be tacked onto everything I do.

"Skeeter, I-I didn't think it'd fall back on everyone el—"

"Jason, everything you do is a reflection of your team. Do you know how much shit we're in now? Do you know how hard we're trying to save your ass right now?" he angrily pesters. I can see invisible steam spewing from his ears and nostrils. "More things have been released. Pictures, videos, videos of you being a jerk...need I continue?"

"N-no. But wh—"

"THE MEDIA IS DEVOURING THIS SHIT UP LIKE CANDY! Your reputation is at an all time low, Jason. Good news is, I know who's doing it."

"Who?" I cautiously question. I grip onto the sofa and gaze into Skeeter's eyes as if my life depends on knowing who's trying to destroy me. "Skeeter, wh-who is it?"

"You won't believe me, but it's so obvious. It's Marquilla. She's deliberately doing this so your career's fucked. She doesn't want you to do music again at all. This hiatus you're on right now? She's trying to make it permanent. I'm not sugarcoating this because it's true."

"That's funny," I laugh. "Marquilla's responsible for this? Riiiggghhhttt."

"I'm serious!" he swears. "Why else did she coerce you into quitting music, huh? Hasn't she been telling you to do that for months? Now look at you! Jason, she's a leech! She's been bad news since day one. She USED YOU, GODDAMMIT! She used you to boost her career and you know it. I feel so responsible for that, but it's over and done with. All she cared about was people talking about you, and she still does. She's blaming you for the split and th—"

"SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" I cry. "Just get out of here, okay! Leave me alone and don't come back!"

"Jason, you can't kick me out. This isn't even your house!"

As if on cue, Lorraine enters the room. She looks trapped, like she wants to say something in Skeeter's defense and mine at the same time. I hate to put her in this situation, but I really need her to side with me on this one.

"You should go, Skeeter. You probably have important things to do. I'll walk you to the door," she thankfully says.

Skeeter reluctantly sighs and stands. He grabs a few cookies and glances at me like a concerned father before Lorraine ushers him out the door. Once they leave the room, I rush up the remainder of the cookies, and lock the door so nobody can bother me again.

I don't plan on leaving this room. I don't care if I starve to death, either.

A/N:

1K reads on this thing, holy smokes!! You guys are amazing and I can't thank you enough for your support and being here for me. Seriously, you have no idea how much you've made me feel I actually belong. xx