red hot | grayson dolan

thirty two

AVERY

My stomach lets out a harsh grumble as I stare up at the ceiling. My eyes stay pinned on the fan spinning around and around, the conscious thoughts taking up my brain are a blackhole of nerves and anxiety.

I haven't eaten at all today and I'm starting to really feel it. I'm beginning to get dizzy, which is messing with my vision. The baggy sweatshirt covering my body seems extremely tight. I feel like I'm suffocating in my own skin.

For the past few weeks, I've seen news columns and video clips of reporters commenting on my weight. The vile words really disgusted me, and it hurt to see people agree.

Cole Cruz has been haunting me for a month now. He passed a comment saying I wouldn't have a modeling career due to my appearance. The news anchors around him laughed and made snarky side comments.

What the hell does that mean? Who gave men the right to talk about a woman's body? Especially on live television? I'll never know the answer, but it's something that needs to end. This is why women feel so insecure.

What I do know is that it hurt me so much that I stopped eating. I'm getting body shamed every single day just because I'm in the public eye. My mind is fucked up and I keep struggling to get out of bed. But I do.

I fight every day and perform my heart out on stage. If I'm smiling and putting on a happy front, the media can't say anything bad about me. Right? That's the mindset I keep having.

The stress has taken a toll on me and most of the time I want to be alone. Nothing and nobody can keep a constant smile on my face. I love Grayson so much, but I'm blocking everyone out to focus on keeping myself sane. I wish I didn't care about what the media writes, but I do.

The hate never ends, I'm always in the spotlight doing something wrong. No matter where I go, the paparazzi are taking pictures of me. The blinding lights of their flash is something I've grown too familiar with.

They're always yelling out comments about my relationship or telling me to stick to pop music. That gesture stings.

I don't want to give up singing with the band and be known as a quitter in the industry. I know people want that, but that wouldn't satisfy me as a growing artist.

I want to continue singing for Red Hot, but the pressure of pleasing the press is making that difficult. I guess I'm just lost right now.

The boys went to a bar tonight, and Lily and I stayed at a penthouse in Boston. She wanted to watch a movie with me, but I didn't have the strength to leave my bed.

The only time I feel calm is when I'm invisible. If I'm alone, nobody can see me. Therefore, nobody can judge me. I'm in my own private little bubble.

I turn to look at the digital clock on the night stand, and see the time 1:27 a.m. The boys aren't back yet, so I'm assuming they're having a good time. Lily is probably asleep in her room waiting for Landon to come home.

I let out a sigh as my stomach makes another startling noise. I should eat something, but my mind is urging me not to. Maybe if I lose some weight the articles and reports will come to an end.

A few moments pass and loud footsteps are emerging from the staircase. I keep my eyes on the ceiling as the door to my room bursts open.

I slightly jump when I see Grayson standing in the doorway. His hair is all messy and the leather jacket that he left wearing isn't on his body. I gulp and stay silent, looking back up at the spinning fan.

"So, change of plans." He says while walking into the room, his voice is as cold as ice. "The tour is over."

My eyebrows automatically knit together as I turn my head to look his way. "What are you talking about?"