She wasn’t sure when things had turned so sour, or even why it did. Maybe it was because of all the vicious rumors going around. Rumors of infidelity, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, and god knows what else, were flying around. She was trying her best to ignore them all, it was all apart of the territory. It was just getting really hard, especially with the questionable photos floating around. The band was very famous. It felt like overnight they were catapulted into stardom. Everyone wanted a piece.
It was causing her horrible and sudden panic attacks, without any warning she’d feel her chest tighten and her vision would get dark and hazy. Sleeping was non-existent. Between constant headaches, chest, and kidney pains, Scarlette was feeling a bit like a zombie, as well as looking the part. Poor make up artist struggled to make her look like a classic beauty without looking like a caked on face. “Thank god for airbrush…” some would mutter under their breath, not like that was helping her situation.
Alexander Volkov, the man who was just a few years older than her and boosted each others careers, came over to her before one for her huge magazine photo shoots. Concerned for her health and well-being, as well as to make sure she wasn’t doing anything stupid like heroin binges or purging foods, he sat in front of her as the stylist did her hair and make up.
“Tell me, what is going on with you?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” She tried to feign happiness but failed horribly. She was one who kept business and personal as far apart as she could, but the line was starting to blur.
He pursed his lips and turned his to the side slightly. “Really, what’s going on? Are you on drugs?”
She felt tears begin to well up in her eyes. “Oh god I can’t do this here. I’ll ruin the make up.” She began to frantically wave her hands in front of her eyes as she looked up.
“Honey, it’s already ruined.” The stylist doing her hair muttered under his breath. He finished curling her hair up into a retro Chignon.
“Out and consider yourself fired.” Alexander glared the stylist down as he sheepishly walked out of the room. “Fuck them sweetie,” Waving a hand in the air as if swatting away a fly. “Tell me what’s wrong.” He placed a hand on her knee, as to comfort her.
“I think my husband is cheating on me and developing horrible habits.”
He sighed crossing his legs and resting an elbow on his knee. “Well, it is part of the lifestyle.”
Scarlette shook her head. “Then he’s lying to me, his wife.” She started to sob heavily. “Our vows mean nothing to him.”
He shook his head. “I’ve seen what’s been printed about him and they are pretty rancid. Do you know for sure though?”
She just shook her head as she sobbed.
“Well,” He got up and went behind her and began to rub her shoulders. “You know what you gotta do, hun. I know you can smell lies, so first whiff, get the fuck out.”
Scarlette’s sobs slowed and Alexander snapped at someone to get her water. “You’re a smart cookie, you can handle this, and you’ll make it through.” He opened the bottled water for her and handed it to her. “Now, clean up your face and go work that fucking camera like I know you can!”
She nodded as she drank. She suddenly felt a little lighter and looked a little bit better too.
In a loose gray sweats and black tank top, Scarlette had fallen asleep on the dark brown couch with the remote in her hand. Her hand hung over the edge of the couch, threatening to drop the remote to the tan carpeted floor. The TV was quietly lulling on about the latest, greatest, easiest, and cleans everything cleaner.
She had been waiting for him to get home, from a photo or video shoot; she couldn’t remember and didn’t care especially after the events that unfolded on her own shoot. Even though the designer was her friend and confidant, who understood what she was going through. The photographer was a friend as well, but she still couldn’t help be embarrassed. Word would travel around quick and she would probably get a call from Christine in the morning.
It was around five forty in the morning when he finally decided to stumble in, only allowing Scarlette to get a little less than four hours of sleep. She sat up and rubbed the sleep and black eyeliner out of her eyes, to see him leaning against the door, fumbling with the deadbolt.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” She mumbled as she sat there and watched the deadbolt win the battle. She shook her head and looked at the clock. “Nice.” She stood up. “Where in the hell have you been?” She kept her voice even and flat, as she watched his back stiffen.
He slowly turned his head towards the voice, swaying slightly. “Hi honey, I’m home!” He spun around to face her, all the while loosing his balance and falling against the door. He laughed like someone had told him the funniest joke with the greatest punch line.
Scarlette shook her head and ran her hand back through her hair. “How in the fuck do I put up with this?” She gritted her teeth.
“Aww, come on baby.” He swaying as he walked to her with open arms. “It's fun being like this and it makes other things even better.” He gave her a sloppy smile when he finally made it to her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her close to him, running his fingers through her hair.
She tried to shrink back from him as he pulled her towards him. He made her rest her head on his chest, smothering her in the vile stench of cheap vodka and whiskey, cigarette smoke, god knows what else, and perfume. The perfume made her stop and think about it, there was no doubt about the fruity floral scent of the perfume, cheap but it was inarguable.
He tried to kiss her as she shoved him away from her. “What the fuck, Rob?” She was almost screaming at him, forgetting about the time and the neighbors.
He stumbled backwards a bit and stared at her for a moment before grabbing her head and forcing his mouth on hers.
She fought to push him away but his grip was so tight around her head and hair, it was starting to hurt. So she did the next logical thing she could think of, bite his lip. She tasted blood as he shoved her off of him and she fell backwards onto the couch.
He had his hand to his mouth. “What the fuck, Scarlette?!” He seemed to be a little bit more sober now.
She was more than confident now. “Who is she?”
“What?”
“Don’t fucking play stupid with me, who the fuck is she?” She tried to keep her voice even and full of anger, hoping she was successful.
He scoffed at her. “There is only you.” He voice held something behind it and Scarlette didn’t like it.
“Bull-fucking-shit! I smell her on your clothes in between the cheap vodka, whiskey, and cigarettes; I smell the cheap whore’s cheap perfume!” The anger was holding her tears at bay.
He took a step towards her. “No, there is no one.” He voice was now holding a tinge of anger.
She stood up from the couch. “You’re fucking lying. Explain the perfume.”
He thought about it for a moment. “Models.”
She glared at him. “Fuck you.” She walked past him, to the bedroom but her grabbed her by the wrist. She looked down at his hand then back at him. “Let me go.”
“Where do you think you’re going?”
She tried to yank her wrist away but he wasn’t freeing his grip on her. “I’m leaving you. You’re a coward and a fucking liar. I’m done. Now let me go.” She turned away from him and tried to walk to the bedroom, but he yanked her back so hard her shoulder threatened to pop out of place. She winced in pain as he caught her with his free hand and arms. “You’re hurting me.”
He held his grip on her. “What do I have to do? You just don’t understand.” He hissed into her ear.
“Go to hell.” She was sure his grip was going to leave bruises on her wrist and shoulder.
Once again he forced his mouth on hers but also tried to rip her tank top off at the same time. She bit his lip once again and kneed him in the groin. She stumbled backwards at his sudden release. He doubled over for a moment, slowly straightening back up. He looked at her, something was in his eyes, something she didn’t notice before. It didn’t hold any sort of kindness at all, something darker, and almost lost.
She took another step backwards, in shock and fear, even though a voice deep down told her to run for the bedroom and lock the door. He took a step forward and raised his arm. Before she could even think of what to do, she was trying to regain her focus, which happened to be the ceiling. She could see little multi colored dots in her vision as she tried to figure out what exactly happened. Then she felt a sharp throbbing pain on the right side of her face. She gingerly touched it and winced. Looking at the fingers that had touched it, cover covered in deep red liquid.
A figure hovered over her, she felt herself sitting up, and then dragged backwards. She felt sharp pain on her scalp as he was dragging her across the floor by her hair. He threw her against the bed, during the entire time he had been spitting horrible words at her, mean, vulgar, and vile things that no other human being should repeat or ever say for that matter.
He shoved himself on top of her, trying to pull her sweats down and choke her with his free arm. She fought to get him off of her, squirming, kicking, punching, hitting, anything. Finally, her nails connected with his eye and she dragged them down while kicking at him to get off of her.
They didn’t hear the banging or the breaking down of the front door while all this was happening. There were flashlights dancing throughout the room and apartment. Men in dark blue uniforms yanked him off of her and another gave her a blanket to wrap herself up in. She didn’t realize it but she was shaking and bleeding everywhere. Someone from the crime scene investigation unit took pictures of her face, hands, arms, legs, thighs, hips, stomach and back as she told an officer her story. She was covered in cuts and bruises. She only could imagine what she looked like, especially with the faces each officer made to her. Mostly looks of sadness, pain, pity, and horror. She held the blanket tighter to herself as she sat on the back of the ambulance.
Apparently, from the officer in charge of the scene, said that the neighbors had made a call about someone being drunk in the parking lot around five thirty, then they received another around five fifty about an argument, then another call at six oh five of more screaming and loud banging. An officer shortly appeared on scene only to hear a female screaming “bloody murder” and decided to call for back up. He let her know another officer would be at the hospital to take her account of the night again.
Scarlette sat there, staring into oblivion, trying to make sense of it all. Praying that she’d wake up and this was all a horrible nightmare. She watched as the closed the ambulance doors and drove off. The paramedic asked her questions and tried to make small talk.
“Wait, I recognize you now.” He gave an excited smiled.
She slowly turned her head and gave him eyes that asked “You’re not serious?” even though it sent sharp shooting pains down her neck and back.
He shrank back a little and made himself busy by pretending to check and read her IV bag.
She tried to relax and close her eyes as they finished their trip to the hospital. “Worst start of the day ever.” She grumbled to herself and gave a stiff choked laugh.
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