Black Lily Petals

Chapter 1 | The White Lily

Ah!

The scream of my mother startled me awake from my repetitious dream. She screamed again and I put my hands over my ears.

She had the same tantrum over one-hundred times a week. The rage inside me began to build up as her screams grew louder and echoed off the walls.

I searched my pocket for my Tylenol and swallowed it without water. With my hands still over my ears, I began to hum to block out her screams for attention.

My eyes closed and I pretended to sleep as I heard her loud feet skipping down the stairs. She walked over to me and threw her handbag onto my lap. I jumped up and grabbed her by her frail shoulders.

What is it now? I screamed. You’re driving me insane!

With the little power I had, I shoved her back. I watched her tall slender frame collapse to the floor. She would enjoy that I had said slender instead of curvy. She thanked her past modeling career for the figure she had.

She twirled her bony fingers through her loose brown hair that flowed with perfection down her back. She searched the room, and her demonic brown eyes made eye contact with me. She had eyes so immense no one held eye contact with her for long. However, I did—I always did.

Lily, I’m going to call the police on you, she whispered as she tried to stand to her feet. You hit me!

I did not hit you!

Yes you did, she cried and rubbed her red cheeks. You hurt me; just like you hurt your sister!

I wish I could just leave you.

She rubbed her cold hands over my cheek. Oh, Lily, you’re stuck with me forever. Every time you try to leave me—you always come back!

I shoved her back again, I’m leaving you soon.

But you have to take care of me.

I could not believe a bat like her, thought I would help a mother as evil as she. The presence of her made me regurgitate. Everyday we argued over nonsense and I was becoming psychically ill.

Things had gotten beyond words with her. When I was thirteen, her anger had the best of her. All I remembered was a big punch in the face and falling down our fancy stairs. My sister said the reason our mother got red carpet on our stairs was so my blood could blend in if it ever happened again. Maybe she was right, because it happened a year later. That time I ended up in the emergency room. Word was I fell down the stairs from being clumsy.

She did not even deserve the title mother. She had never been anywhere close to a mother. Her name was Kathy; a name which stayed with her until the hearse was outside her door.

Fine then! Kathy jumped to her feet and dusted off her evening gown. She ran back up the stairs and waited for me to start some drama. Ha, as if I had not been through that. Puh-lease. She had done much better than that.

At my sixteenth-birthday party, I was doing this television special for MTV—cameras were everywhere! Kathy was so jealous of me that night. One: because I was the one getting the attention she ached for and two: because it was my party. It wasn’t my fault she was a washed up model. So, later that night when we were about to cut the cake, Kathy stood next to me. I read her face—she was up to no good. She was ready to make a scene. She stood there while smiling from ear to ear as I began to cut my cake.

Oops! She slipped and spilled red wine all over my birthday dress in front of everyone.

She laughed. They laughed. The whole world laughed at me. Ha, but that fiasco was not the last thing. Then, she said something immature. Oh baby, you looked like a pregnant cow in that dress anyway; I did you a favor. Then, she walked away and acted as if nothing had happened. The next thing I knew, she was in a room giving an interview of the whole event to earn some nippy cash. That night I packed all my bags and left her. Unfortunately, I couldn't survive in the outside world without her and I came back home in tears. She sheltered me in ways that were wrong, but I liked to believe she did it for my sanity. I needed her and somehow she favored it.

I came back to reality and walked into the kitchen. Paul! I shouted for my personal assistant, who was two feet away from me. Kathy is at it again! I swear I’m going to end up killing her.

Okay, I’ll get her pills, he said in a low but hearing voice. He headed toward the stainless steel refrigerator to get her pills. She was on medication for the not too sane for ten years and she still did not know it. She thought the medications were for my sister, Leslie, because she had some issues of her own. However, she moved out when we were sixteen and we hadn't seen her since. I guess Kathy thought Paul was mailing her the medication.

So, what drink should I slip the pills into this time? Paul said while trying to make eye contact with me.

Paul looked as if he just left an audition to be on either Sesame Street or a dance show. He had gulps of sweat sliding down his forehead, which made the zits on his skin vivid. I had no idea for what reason he was sweating because it was only forty degrees. He had a big furry sweater on that any sane person would think he was dressed as Elmo. His cheetah print jeans put a smile on my face; it reminded me of when my sister and I bought them for him two years ago.

Unpredictable was his middle name and I loved him more than an assistant. I loved him so much that he had ten million in his name from me. He had been one of my best friends since I was five years old, so he knew Kathy before she went insane.

Put them in wine. Kathy loves her wine! I leaned across the island reaching for the pack of cigarettes and the newspaper. I pulled one cigarette out and stuck it in my mouth. I did not light it; I just let it sit there on the edge of my tongue—kind of chewing it. They still haven’t found the Marlon hit-n-run guy yet? I sighed, happy that I was not on the entertainment page in the newspaper.

What makes you think it’s a guy? Paul said.

Well, I’m just saying.

The Marlon hit-n-run case had been all over the media for the past few months. Marlon was a new child actor who had a future ahead of him. However, his life ended short when some idiot crashed into him and left him to die. If his story wasn’t making headlines, I was.

Paul snatched the newspaper, changing the subject. Hey no cigarettes, Lily, remember, he fussed while stirring the pills in the wine. Give them! While trying to snatch the cigarettes from me, he nearly spilled all the wine on the island.

I know! I said. It’s not even lit. I rolled my eyes and spun my chair like how I would do when I was six.

Hmm…well… he gave me a stiff look as if he were going to slap me. His serious faces always made me want to laugh. He knew it too—but, I held in my laugh.

Oh go on; you know you want to, he grinned. I’ll keep the seriousness for other people I work with.

You do that, I laughed and thought about something else to discuss. You didn’t tell me how your two months of art camp went.

It’s not art camp…that sounds so amateur.

You seem awfully happy these days…I assume it went well.

It did.

Are you gonna give me details?

Little did I know that the entire time was dedicated to Andy Warhol. So, I had too…

I blanked out as Paul blabbered about stuff I could care less about. I did not care much about his art stories; I was just hoping he would not leave me without an assistant for another two months. I was flabbergasted when he just up and left me one day for art camp. He did not give me a reason and he knew it was unprofessional to do something like that. I didn’t care how close we were; my work came first.

So, did you meet someone special? I said, coming back to reality.

Paul smiled like a little girl who just met her match. Maybe.

You did? Who…

Let’s just say, we are still in touch.

So, I’ll meet this special person soon?

Sooner than later.

I winked and clapped my hands for him. Why do you look all sweaty and red? I put the cigarette into a napkin—it begun to taste rotten.

He touched his face. Aw my face is red?

No, your shirt; you look like an overgrown Elmo. I laughed and spun around in my chair again; this time almost falling onto the tile floor.

Dammit, Lily, stop it! Kathy came downstairs into the kitchen with her hand on her head—over exaggerating a headache. I swear you get on my nerves! I can’t—

Paul cut her off by putting the glass of wine in her face. The scent of the engaging red wine calmed her down and if you had x-ray vision you could see the ecstasy swim through her veins. There was a moment of silence when she took her first sip. I smiled at Paul for achieving another Kathy moment. She took the cup and slurped it down in one swallow.

The both of you should leave! She pushed me off the chair as if she were telling a dog to get off the sofa. And remember Paul, about today? You didn’t forget did you?

Uh yeah, Paul said as he glanced at me. I remembered.

Remember what? I said.

Oh nothing, Lily, Kathy smiled. Now, leave! All you guys do is sit here and talk! You said you want to leave me? Then, learn how to live in the outside world! People don't bite...well, unless they're on bath salts! She picked up a cigarette and stuck it in her mouth. She did not light it; she let it hang there like a tooth pick.

I must have gotten that from her.

Chapter 2 | Anxious

I picked up a tabloid from Paul’s cluttered car and it stated ‘Lily Blair Evans brags to Australian reporter about her millions and how she doesn’t compare to any other actresses.’ First off, that was a lie. Second, I would never do that. I was humble. I am humble. I did not go around talking about the millions I made or how many magazine covers I had been on. Kathy made me look like I was a devious star that thought the world revolved around me. She would sell false stories about me and then lie to me about them. She was repulsed of the fact that she would never be as famous as or rich as I was.

Yeah, she was an appalling mother, but if it weren't for her, I would not have been the most known celebrity in the world. She made me, but she treated me as if I had to take care of her—she deserved nothing. The only reason I dealt with her crap was because I was a minor—and getting emancipated was too much of a hassle. The day I turn eighteen, I never want to see her face again.

It was Saturday and Paul took me to a burger place called, In & Out. He knew I hated that place—not because it was a cheap fast food place—I just preferred Jack in the Box ten times more. I did not buy anything, but Paul forced salty fries into my mouth saying I had a long day today with crappy business people and they weren’t going to feed me.

I did not know who Paul was gossiping about but all I noticed was his mouth full of fries with ketchup on his lips—it turned me off. I just dazed off while staring at him—he probably thought that I was listening to his crap. I just nodded and smiled as I always did.

I caught myself drifting away again—thinking about who I was. Who am I? I thought about why I was on Earth all the time. I also thought about why I was born such a wimp. I had a reoccurring dream about a man telling me to stand up for myself because one day someone would take advantage of me. He would say if I don’t do it now, one day he will curse me with black lily petals. He said that I allowed too many people, including Kathy, walk over me as if I were worthless. "You’re a pushover," he said. I knew how to stand up for myself; I was just too afraid of the consequences.

As I came back to reality, I realized there were fifty paparazzi and fans zooming on me from outside—spotting my flaws. Seeing that I had no makeup on, seeing that I might have snot hanging out my nose, or seeing that I hadn’t changed my hair extensions since last month.

I touched my nose and nothing was there. Good. So, then why are they looking at me? Look at Paul, his mouth is full of fries and he’s overweight.

I began to breathe heavy as I heard deafening screams within my ears—but no one was there. I glanced at Paul—good he is still talking; he doesn’t notice I’m about to faint. My heart felt heavy as if it were about to drop out onto my lap. I was hyperventilating again and soon the room began to spin as if I were on that annoying teacup ride that all the little children love. I looked at Paul again and his voice began to get so loud. I wondered why it seemed as if he were yelling at me. I took my eyes off him and stared at the wallpaper on the wall, which seemed as if it were falling off little by little. I grasped the corners of the table with my sweaty hands as I felt the chair shaking from side to side.

Uh! I jumped in place, startling Paul—fries fell out his mouth and he jumped up out of his seat. I pushed him back down; we didn’t need to cause a scene while people were staring at us. AHH! I did not realize I screamed aloud again. People were really staring in my direction now. Eyes squinted and they weren’t just staring at me because I was a celebrity, but because all those magazine articles were right… she is an attention whore.

Babe, what’s wrong? he said as if he did not know. He knew exactly what was wrong. It was only the ten-hundredth time that happened that month. Paul knew me inside and out. He was the only one, besides my family that knew what happened at home behind closed doors. Everyone else saw me as the overrated celebrity who made too many films and won too many awards. As well as, that Lily Blair is a happy teen star, but Paul knew I was far from happy—I was in war within my inner self.

Nothing, I gasped, as I didn’t realize that I was hyperventilating heavier now. Paul grabbed my cell phone off the table with his messy fingers and pulled me to get up, but my legs would not move. They felt robotic—like from a horror film.

Don’t look at anyone, he whispered in my ear. He knew all the judgmental eyes on me, would frightened me to death.

Although I had been famous since I was six, I never got used to all the attention. All those people staring at me, what were they thinking about?

Ugh, I shouted again as I remembered the anxiety. Why did I glance out the window? I shut my eyes and tried to move my feet.

Now, all I could hear were whispering voices. Paul began pulling me to go to the restroom. My legs obeyed and began to walk this time—I kept my eyes shut and hummed. He punched the bathroom door open—well, that was what it sounded like and he sat me on the sink. I opened my eyes to Paul’s worried stare.

Sorry, I whispered and turned to see around the tiny bathroom—which was surprisingly clean.

Oh my gosh! I knew we should have gone to the drive-through. I forgot how you get when— I put my finger on his mouth, shutting him up. The one thing that annoyed me about Paul was that he talked too much.

I went into my purse and took a XANAX. It never really relaxed me, if anything it made me feel lifeless at times. I can see the headlines! Lily Blair Evans is a psycho! But, it’s just anxiety; I promise.

Paul always said I overreacted to those things, which was true, but how could I ignore the fact that I was judged with every action I took. I had plenty of that at home with Kathy. With her calling me demented every second and telling me I was a failure—everyone judged me.

Thanks, Paul. You’re the best, I said while I messed his sandy brown hair up as if I were petting a puppy.

He looked at the wall behind me and snatched a paper off it.

What is that? I said.

Oh, nothing, he said.

I grabbed the paper out his shaky hands. Marlon?

I wanted to call…I mean keep the number in case…

My eyes narrowed and I jumped off the sink. Oh, I see.

Paul twisted his warm fingers into mine. We should go.

Calmer, we walked out the bathroom. I just used my twin sister Leslie’s advice. She said, When you feel like you’re going to have a panic attack or feel like someone is watching you, look at your toes and sing the alphabets…backwards. Therefore, I did, but I did not realize I was saying them aloud. I am such a mess.

It took seven horrendous minutes to get to Paul’s car because of fifty people screeching at me and asking dim-witted questions. Paul knew how much I hated passing up fans who wanted autographs, but he pulled my wrist so I was not tempted to stop. I felt so dreadful—their eager faces were joyful to see someone famous and have my attention. I just whispered a low sorry, like they could hear me, but they read my lips and gave me a kind smile back. Their smiles made me feel a little better inside. They probably went back to their self-centered lives and blogged hateful things about me later—bastards.

When we got back to my home, an unfamiliar vehicle was on our lawn. My eyes panicked as I searched the expensive Mercedes Benz and I knew right away what was going on.

What’s wrong now, Lily? Paul rolled his eyes as he waited for me to get out the car. Come on!

I don’t want to go in. I know what Kathy is up to. She invited some media people over...didn’t she?

I highly doubt it—

Why? She has done it before! She did it last week! She always sells my stories.

I promise, baby, Kathy didn’t bring a media person over, Paul said as he pulled me out his car.

We walked at a snail's pace to the front steps of my faultless home and I couldn’t help but realize Paul was smiling as if he had won the lottery. I knew something was up so I walked quicker to the door. Before I could unlock the front door, Kathy slammed it open in delight.

Lily, baby! Come on! Come on! she said as she spun in her Gucci gown. "This is Dr. Summings. He would love to talk to