Whitney's Confession

I’ve always considered my life to be a like a show. That’s what I’d always say in interviews and talks with big-name stars as we share a laugh while enjoying a drink. But when I say that, it’s not the way they’d envision it. To them, the saying just means my life is exciting. Thrilling. A ride as I dance and sing on stage and meet new faces. Becoming a star. But it’s not that. My life is a script.

When I was younger I wanted to be a star. I wanted to perform. And I think one of my big pushes to it was that it meant I can break away from my heritage. As a flapper performer, my disgustingly rich family would see me as a tramp and disown me. And that couldn’t make me happier as I could finally be free. But God just had to be cruel to me. My parents were overjoyed by the idea. A Weaver with her name in lights. You could bring our name good attention if you stick to what the family needs.

So I sang. I dance. Years on end, until I reached adulthood and so on. I did only what those above me wanted, twisting my dream into something they could profit from. I had a good life, and yet I could never be freed.

Once I turned 20, I was introduced to a Mr. Clyde Martin. Another wealthy family who I was expected to marry in the name of business proposals. But I knew what this meant. Martin was never just some arranged husband, he was supposed to be my boss. My family’s little puppet kept me in check as I traveled the country. Even after leaving New York, I could never be free. I felt like a bird in a cage, forced to sing and dance. And while I wanted to because it was in my nature, I didn’t want to do it because I was being told to.

Six years. I did this shit for six long years. Doing what I was told, smiling, and faking my ass through everything. Spending every night in bed with a man that was more of a manager than a husband. And I just couldn’t take it. I couldn’t keep doing this. I was half tempted to run away, find a way to start a new identity. But that meant I lost everything I worked for. Everything I earned yet had credit taken away from me!

So one night, after a show in Chicago. I’m in the hotel room smoking a cigarette while thinking of a better time I could be having. The fancy and wild parties I could attend, the people I could meet. Being able to do what I wanted. And then Martin comes in, back from his talk at the bar with potential dealers. He’s obviously not pleased with me, starts yapping about how I need to just shut up. Don’t even speak unless I’m gonna sing, let him do the talking. Cause, I’m the one keeping your shows afloat, not you! He spats back with venom in his words.

And I snapped. There was something about that, it just made me angry. I can barely recall much, to be honest. There was more screaming, some glass breaking. And it wasn’t until I was in the bathroom that I realized what had happened. My hands were stained with blood. My whole body was smeared in blood. The facet was running, yet the water couldn’t wash it away. And I look out of the corner of my eye. And I see Martin’s dead, lifeless body. Bleeding out while looking at me with glossy eyes.

The funny thing is, I didn’t even feel much. I couldn’t feel regret or horror. If anything, I only wished I could have recalled what happened so I can know how much I made him suffer. Or maybe I could go back and do it again. And again. And again. I would gladly kill not just him but every single bastard in my family. In his family! But, there was something else.

My career was ruined. I couldn’t escape from this. I’ll probably get sentenced to prison or maybe even get sentenced to death. It was worth killing him, but I couldn’t lose my spotlight. I worked so hard, and now I was going to lose it.

Then, he showed up. The shadowed man, as I like to call him. Slipped under the door and noticed my predicament. Told me how he knows a way where I can lay low. My career and reputation won’t be tarnished when I can hide from the world until things blow over. I can't be accused of a crime if I'm not even there, I can see the headlines now. New York star presumed dead after husband is found dead. Our hearts go out to Miss Weaver, may God bless her soul. I didn’t care if it sounded too good to be true. I took that deal. Anything to carry on the show, my hard work, my legacy. And while I may be stuck here, I don’t mind. At least everything is preserved. And when I come back, I can continue performing as if nothing happened. Who knows, maybe my disappearance will bring more attention to me… Maybe I’ll be an even bigger star now that my husband’s out of the picture…