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*・゚゚・*:

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*・゚゚・*:.。..。.:*゚:*:✼✿✿✼:*゚:.。..。.:*・゚゚・*

You'd think after years of flying, I'd be used to airplanes by now, but instead, each time getting on one, I'm just as afraid as if it's the first. However, the giant metal tube with wings that has always risen my anxiety actually calms me this time. Boarding the plane, popping in my headphones to listen to One Direction's new song, and pulling out a book is the most refreshing thing I've done in weeks.

I'm finally free.

At least for a little while.

Bennett hasn't hurt me again. Physically.

Except for once... when he found out the real reason I'm going to New York this weekend. It's like he blacks out and forgets who he is, thankfully always coming back before things get taken too far. I desperately want to end it with him, but I'm just trying to stick it out through senior year. At least then he won't be able to humiliate me at school like he's promised, or bother my mom once he goes off to college.

Who would have thought that by getting away from Charles, I'd be walking into the same kind kind of relationship, only much worse, with Bennett Cameron. Us Granger women sure do know how to pick 'em, don't we?

When the plane lands, a car is waiting to take me to the Barclays Center where the VMA's are being held, and where the boys are also getting ready. I worried about what I would wear to something like this with Jane not being able to afford much, and the thought of asking Charles for money makes me want to throw up, but thankfully Harry assured me that they'd cover it. At first I told him that I'd figure it out, but he was very insistent.

Now, as I walk down the long hallway to get to the boys' dressing room, to get to our dressing room, the most intense feeling of dread fills my stomach, almost making me nauseous. What if they see right through me?

What if they see right through the happy facade I'm trying to put up? I never had many emotions before and honestly didn't think I ever would. A small part of me always wanted them, but now that I have them, I'm starting to remember why I always hated vulnerability so much. It's still a bitch.

I can only hope that I do a good job of seeming happy like I used to always do. The only difference now is that I'm no longer pretending to be okay just to hide that fact that I feel nothing. I'm doing it to hide the fact that I feel everything, and how badly it all hurts.

As soon as I enter the dressing room, I'm being pushed and pulled every which way by different stylists while the band goes through the same treatment, shouting their hellos as the chaos surrounds them.

A lovely stylist curls my hair in big waves down my back while a makeup artist thankfully listens to my requests and doesn't cake my face, instead only applying subtle shades to bring out the gold in my eyes and a pearly highlight to add to the already bronze and blush shades on my lightly freckled cheeks.

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