Stalker - Clarissa Wild Page 0,3

to help.”

“I will.” I smile and wave until she’s gone out of sight and then close the door, sighing.

Either being alone is the best feeling in the world or it’s the scariest thing there is. Trapped in silence is sometimes a good thing, especially after a busy day, but on days like this … it cuts into my soul.

I sit down behind the mirror and grab the face wipes, gently patting down my face until I’ve removed all the make-up. Rinsing my face in a bowl of water, I look at the mask I’m peeling away, layer by layer, until there’s nothing left but a lonely, bitter bitch.

Stripping away everything until only the nakedness remains forces me to face the cold, hard truth. What I see is paperwhite skin, interrupted by an ugly purplish blue bruise. It’s been a long time since I saw one of those, but seeing it now is like a brick to the face. It breaks the façade I hold so dearly.

My eyes grow watery, but I shake my head and take a deep breath, pushing away all thoughts as I clean my face again.

Someone suddenly knocks on my door.

I turn my head, covering the mark with my hair as the receptionist leans in. “Excuse me; someone left these for you at the front desk. I’m supposed to give them to you.”

With furrowed brows and parted lips, I gaze at the enormous bouquet of roses she holds out.

“Who’s it from?” I ask.

She looks at the card and then smiles. “Arthur.”

Something twists at my insides.

I swallow away the lump in my throat as she brings it to me. “I won’t bother you any further,” she says after an uncomfortable moment of silence.

“Thank you for bringing them,” I say.

“Yeah, no problem,” she says, and then she closes the door again.

The roses lie on my desk, right on top of my make-up, and all I can do is lean back and stare at them as if they came out of a long, dried-out well. I can read the note from afar, saying ‘I’m sorry, Vanessa. I didn’t mean to forget your birthday.’

Anger boils up inside me, and I do the first thing that comes to mind. I grab the roses and throw them in the garbage. He’ll have to come up with something better than that to make up for what he did. Especially considering he completely forgot to mention it.

I get up from my chair and put on my coat. Then I put on a big, round hat and some shades, hiding the mark. It’s not perfect, but it’s good enough to get out into the streets without anyone seeing it.

As I walk out of the building so I can get to my car, fans flock to my side, wanting to take a picture with me and demanding my autograph. Of course, I dish them out everywhere, loving the attention. The bright flashes from the cameras clear my head and blur all the bad thoughts swirling through my mind. I do it for these fans, the ones who adore me and love me like no other. I do it for these short moments of happiness, my time in the spotlight, before I have to return to a gloomy, lonely home.

Ignorance is bliss.

CHAPTER 2

PHOENIX

Age 8

“Kapoow! I’m the Phoenix and I’m going to kill you now!” I slam the action figure against the headboard, pretending it’s a giant alien ship coming to destroy the Earth. The hero Phoenix is the only one who can save the day, with his special laser gun firing from his eyes and his super strength, which can even lift the Earth.

I crawl under the sheets and leave Phoenix up, so he can walk over the edge and lift the sheets to unearth a deadly weapon; the giant human robot he’ll use to destroy the alien ship.

But then Phoenix is suddenly ripped from my hand.

“Hey!” I come up from under the sheets and see a boy running away, giggling. “Give that back!” I yell, jumping out of the creaky old bed.

The boy runs down the immense staircase of the old mansion, skipping stairs along the way, while holding my Phoenix high up in the air as if he’s proud that he stole it. He laughs and says, “Come and get it, stupid!”

I frown, grinding my teeth, and then run after him. Nobody touches my Phoenix. He’s the only toy I have. The caretakers only give us one toy each. It’s a stupid orphanage rule because there