Page 11 of Shatter

I know I was being a spoiled brat when I lashed out at Hare-Bear after he did everything I asked him to. But it had felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown on me the moment he opened his mouth. Tonight was incredible, and the second I came down from my high all I wanted was to do it again and again.

I know I should have stayed and talked to him about it, but honestly I was afraid if we talked he would slide into the camp of my parents and agent - all who think they know what's best for me, but have never asked me what it is that I want. And I couldn't let him. He's the one person who has always watched out for me.

As a kid, I never questioned it. Obviously, they were the adults - they knew best. Now, at twenty-five, I just want to be seen as a human being, not an actress or model. Or an American-girl doll they can get out of the toy bin to dress up and pose whenever they feel like it.

But it was more than that. It was how he knew exactly what I needed and gave it to me without question. It was how tender his touch was afterwards. Even his misguided attempt to protect me was charming - I realized - after I'd gotten out onto the street and into fresh air.

So I've decided I'm going to ignore my temper tantrum and focus on how amazing it was. For the first time in a long time something felt like life or death. I know I'm spoiled and I know I'm privileged, but memorizing lines and posing for photoshoots is so not important that I'm painfully bored. I want to do something important, something dangerous, something that will make me feel alive.

And tonight did. Logically, I know Harrison wouldn't hurt me, but the primal fear of being caught by a monster in the dark made me want to run, want to fight for my life - want to live - for the first time in a long time. And that definitely won't be the last time I find myself at The Envelope, hoping to be chased by him; by my step-uncle.

I'll apologize to him later. Right now, I'm going to revel in this feeling. Of being naughty, of hurting myself, of the freedom that he gave me tonight, even if the ending was cold.

Something within me snapped a few months ago, and I have no idea how to fix it - or if I even want to. My therapist says my new thoughts and feelings are destructive and I'm just burned out, but I know it's deeper than that. There's been a karmic shift in my soul that can't be put back.

I've known Harry for the last ten years. He's my step-dad's younger brother. We've seen each other over the years at fundraisers and family dinners. He's always been polite and interested in me in a way I always appreciated. He never asks about my career, or movies or other actors, and even as a teenager, talking with him always felt different. Like a breath of fresh air. Like he could see the person within me when others could only see the shiny baubles of my life.

It wasn't until last year that his attention took a dangerous turn. Mom was hosting a release party for my last year's Rom-Com release, and he came. If he had always seen the person inside of me, this was the first time I saw the man inside of him. I remember my cheeks heating under his attention. I remember noticing for the first time the size of his chest and thighs. His scars never bothered me, but last year was the first time I'd wondered how far down his neck they went, and how they would feel under my tongue.

Men have been objectifying me my entire life; even as a child. I was always encouraged to smile at the men in our industry and be quiet and good for them, even when I caught them looking at me inappropriately.

That night was the first time I'd objectified a man. Because that's what Harrison is - all man.

Harrison has always been protective of me, even as a child. When my mother would chide me not to eat too much at a party, Harrison would glare at her while sliding more onto my plate. When Chris would remind me that I won't be able to act the rest of my life because I'll age out of appropriate roles, Harrison would interrupt him and remind him that life is about more than work.

He's always been on my side. I've always loved him for that.

And seeing him tonight?

I twirl and giggle to myself. I know it's dangerous, risky, going to a kink club. But I wanted Harrison to see me as a woman. He could tell my parents. He could have rejected me. He could have let someone else touch me. But a part of me know he wouldn't let that happen. He's always been protective of me. I know he'd take care of me.

My phone vibrates in my clutch, and my mood crashes over me like a tsunami - cold and wet.

And just like that, my good mood vanishes.

Mom.

I answer it because I know I have to.

"Hello, mother," I say in greeting, barely hiding my displeasure.

"Where are you?"

"Nowhere, mother. I'm heading home." I let out a deep sigh before putting her on speaker and bringing up my Uber app.

"You have a hair appointment tomorrow morning and a mani/pedi after that. Showcase wants an interview, and I want you screen-ready."

I grit my teeth. "Screen-ready" means perfect. Perfect hair, perfect nails, perfect makeup, perfect outfit - perfect doll. My hair isn't my own; it's a part of my image - my brand. It's a honey-blonde that is ridiculously expensive and hard to maintain with my naturally brunette hair, but my mother and agent decided that that was my "brand image" and we can't change it now.

I perfected my PR, placid smile at eight. I was in etiquette classes by ten, and an Academy Award-winner for Best Performance by a Young Actress at twelve.

And now, at twenty-five? I want to pull my hair out. I don't want to smile, be pretty, and win awards. I want to burn down the patriarchy, punch people in the teeth and cut myself.

The fresh cuts on my inner thigh burn as a reminder.

"Yes, mother." She's still talking, but I've stopped listening. My Uber is four minutes away.

The sad thing is that I know I'll go home, drink until I pass out, and wake up tomorrow to be everyone's favorite little doll.