Jaded (Rock Star Trilogy)

co-write. Hell, nobody else has even heard this song before. And as many times as I've performed in front of thousands of people, I've never been nervous, but I am right now. Maybe it's because I'm opening myself up, but I don't even care. I just play and sing. I perform like I would at a sold-out Madison Square Garden, because this is what I want. This song. This music. Me, playing... It's what I'm good at, and it's what I love .
    I open my eyes as I hit the first chorus, and see Stephan looking at me with awe. He almost looks starstruck, which is kind of funny. But I feel good about it. I can tell that he likes my song. And I think he's in shock over the fact that I am good .
    No, I'm not good , I'm AMAZING. AWESOME. INCREDIBLE. OUTSTANDING. Take your pick. And it's not me being cocky, or overconfident, it's me being truthful. I know that I wouldn't be where I am today if I wasn't better than average.
    I honestly came from nothing. My family was an average family from the suburbs. My mom was a first grade teacher, and my dad owned a small business. Me and my older sister, Stacy, went to school, and made good grades... We were good kids.
    I started playing music when I was three. That's when my parents bought my sister her first guitar. She was 10, but quickly lost interest, so I picked it up. I had no idea what I was doing, but over time I taught myself, and my parents were surprised that I was actually good. I took guitar lessons, and by the time I was seven, they were putting me in music competitions. They became obsessed.
    My older sister, Stacy, essentially got ignored because of me. By the time I was 10, and she was 17, our parents uprooted us from our home in Seattle, and moved us to LA. They had plans for me. Forget the fact that Stacy was a senior in the middle of the school year. They were obsessed with me becoming a star . Nothing else mattered to them.
    We were only in LA for a few months when Stacy disappeared. It's been nine years since I've seen her, and I'm not even sure if she's alive, honestly. My parents didn't look for her. They said it was her decision, that she ran away. She was almost an adult. She could take care of herself, so they said.
    I still think about her everyday. I wonder how she is, where she is, or if she's even alive. But she is the reason I tried so hard. For her. I figured if I could prove to her that it was worth it, that she would somehow come back into our lives. And now, I'm sick of trying. I just want to be me. I want to live my own life. Which is why I'm here.
    When the song ends, I turn off the electric drum beat and turn toward Stephan. He's standing there, staring at me.
    “What did you think?” I ask.
    “Tell me something,” he pauses. “If you could play, and sing like this, why the hell were you singing that crap they play on the radio ?”
    I shrug. “Because I do what I am told. Or, at least I used to. Not anymore.”
    “Well, I must say, I like the real Scarlett . She's really talented,” he steps closer. “You are incredible.”
    “Thanks,” I say. I turn off the amp, unplug my guitar and put it on the stand.
    “So what happened to you? Why did you just give in, and do what others wanted you to do?”
    I sigh, and take a seat on the black futon. Stephan sits beside me. I think about his question, and I'm scared to answer... I'm scared of what he will think of me.
    “Fame happened,” I answer. “Music awards, chart topping songs, money , houses, cars... Millions of screaming fans...” I shake my head. “It goes to your head, no matter how hard you fight it. I let myself go, and I became this... power hungry girl. I wanted more. It was never enough.”
    “I can see where it would be easy to lose yourself.”
    I nod, sadly. “I could drink more alcohol at 16 than most grown men. I partied hard, and stayed drunk a lot. I even got into drugs for a little while. Nothing too hard, thankfully. I think I was just trying to fill the emptiness. I guess I thought that fame and money would be more fulfilling than it was.”
    He looks at me, not saying anything. I'm pretty sure that I scared him.
    “Sorry,” I say. “I shouldn't have sprung all that on you.”
    “No, I... I'm glad you told me. I'm just shocked. You're nothing like the person you described,” he admits.
    I laugh, bitterly. “Well I woke up one day, and I didn't know where I was or how I got there. I lost two whole days of my life. During that time, I have no idea what I did. I know