Fifteen.

Past.

I rubbed my thumb across the screen of my phone, wondering if I should text Trev, check in and see how everything was going. He’d started filming for the show, so he was practically unreachable. Again. This time I knew he had a good reason though.

I decided to distract myself with a latte and some window shopping, since I couldn’t afford to spend any actual money. I was strolling through Covent Garden, admiring the dresses in the window display of a boutique that probably cost more than I made in a month. Hell, several months. It was a nice day, though, which made up for the fact that I was broke and my boyfriend was off filming a TV show that would make him a huge star.

I could feel it in my bones, like this giant godlike hand called Fame was about to scoop him up and deposit him in another world. A world where only the charismatic and the beautiful lived. I wasn’t particularly charismatic, nor very beautiful. I was carrying a little too much weight, my nose was too wide, and my hair was prone to frizz. Putting Trev and me together was like pairing Esmeralda with Quasimodo.

“You are not Quasimodo,” said Alexis, pointing her finger at me. She’d talked her way into joining me for the day, but she was just as skint as I was, so she was only in the market for window shopping, too.

“Although, Trev does have the spirit of a gypsy. Do you think he’d mind if I called him Esmeralda next time I see him?”

“Please do.” I chuckled. I loved Alexis. She always had a way of making me laugh. She was fun to be around and definitely made me feel less alone, which was a common theme for me these days.

“So, how are things between you two?”

I shrugged. “We’d have to actually see one another for there to be things, but we rarely do anymore, so I don’t really know how to answer that question.”

“Ah well, I bet when filming wraps up he’ll be more than willing to make it up to you.”

“He better,” I said grumpily just as a shop door opened and two very familiar women stepped out. Time stood still as I came face to face with Sofia Cabrera, my mother, and Paula, my older sister. It had been at least two years since I had the misfortune of bumping into them last, maybe three. I stood frozen in place as my gaze met my mother’s and she stared right through me like I didn’t even exist. The only sign of recognition was a momentary flash in her aged brown eyes. Her back straightened, her lips drew into a thin line and she tightened her grip on her handbag, like I was some low-down thief who might try and steal it.

“Mamá, what’s wrong?” my sister asked before she saw me standing there. If I blinked I might’ve missed it, but I saw the briefest flicker of sympathy in her gaze. My sister was the one member of my family who felt bad for me, but she was too spineless to ever speak out.

“Nothing is wrong. Come along, Paula,” said Mother as she slid her arm through my sister’s and turned to walk away. She had that dignified calm about her, but I knew rage, indignation, and shame simmered just beneath the surface. Not shame for her herself, but shame of me, for how she thought I tried to ruin her.

“Um, who was that?” Alexis asked, having noticed the weird tension.

“My mum and sister,” I answered in a hollow voice. I had to keep my insides empty, otherwise I’d feel every ounce of pain their rejection solicited. Sometimes I lay awake at night just thinking of all the arguments I wanted to have with them, all the things I wished to say.

Soy tu hija. ¿Cómo puedes actuar como si no existiera?

I’m your daughter, how can you act like I don’t exist?

“Oh,” Alexis breathed, her voice soft. I wondered if Karla had filled her in about my family. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but I think I better go home now. I, um, have a bunch of stuff I need to do.”

She nodded, her eyes sad but sympathetic. “Okay, well call me if you want to talk.”

Later that evening the floor of my apartment was littered with papers, some of them crumpled up, others flat and spread out on the carpet. I was trying to vent my pain through writing, pour my feelings into the words, but it wasn’t enough. I needed to cry. Being away from Trev made it more difficult to deal with seeing my mother and sister. The rejection felt doubled somehow.

I collected several scraps of paper and carried them to my keyboard. I started to sing, my fingers finding the keys instinctively, a song coming out of me all on its own. Sometimes this happened. The music simply wrote itself. The lyrics told a story that leaked from my very soul.

By the time I was finished there were tears streaming down my face and I was heaving big, messy sobs. No matter how much progress I made, no matter how strong and secure I felt some days, the mere sight of my family reduced me to a sobbing mess of a girl all over again.

When I looked up I startled, because there in the doorway stood Trev. Embarrassment struck me. I was certain my face was red and blotchy from crying. I lifted my hands and tried to wipe away the tears as I cleared my throat.

“What are you doing here? Y-you’re supposed to be filming.”

“Alexis called me.”

Oh, God. Now I felt even more embarrassed. Alexis had been so worried about me that she’d gone out of her way to call Trev.

“She didn’t need to do that,” I said in a small voice.

Trev stepped into the room, his eyes dipping down sadly as he looked at me. His voice was tender when he spoke, “Yeah, you’re obviously doing brilliant.”

He came and sat next to me. I couldn’t meet his gaze, not when I felt so raw. I was completely cut open. Everything I usually kept sealed tight was on display.

All I could manage was a watery, “Shut up,” before he pulled me into his arms and hugged me tight.

“When I see you like this I just want to go knock on their door and tell them exactly what they’ve lost. I want to tell them how amazing you are and that it’s their loss if they’re too proud to admit they were wrong.”

“They’ll never admit that. If they break one illusion the whole framework will collapse, because their entire lives are built on lies and an antiquated belief system.”

Trev traced his fingertips under my eyes, wiping away some of the wetness. “I’ve fucking missed you like mental.”

I let out a sad laugh. “You always say that these days.”