At least that was what I thought.
In reality, there must have been hidden cameras in every room, because together with my “bloopers,” Dad also posted some extremely unflattering photos and videos of me.
The worst ones are the one from when I had an allergic reaction to seafood and blew up like a balloon. He chose the right frames after I came back from the hospital and most of the swelling had come down. However, my face was covered in red, angry hives. With the right lighting and angle, I look like I have really bad skin. Another video shows me a few weeks later, when the steroid therapy I was given has caused me to bloat and gain weight.
The captions are what truly bring tears to my eyes.
This is the real Rebecca Shine. Without all the makeup and the clothes, especially designed to make her look beautiful.
But what hurts the most? All my friends and co-workers are sharing those photos and videos to make them go viral. And they’re posting mean comments.
Aisha:Ugh. Rebecca, you’re so ugly, girl.
Kev:Fat. No wonder she couldn’t dance to save her own life lately. I almost broke my back trying to lift her in our latest video.
Daisy:Go on a diet, girl. Stop eating pizza, you look like one. Round and full of blemishes.
Kurt:I dodged a bullet when I broke off the engagement. Ugly, untalented, unfaithful. She brings shame to us all.
Those are the kindest comments. Seeing their favorite stars hating on me makes the millions of fans I thought I had go absolutely rabid.
Jodi4ever:You should kill yourself, you fat, useless waste of space.
ValfromCali:You can’t polish a turd and make it shine. I’ve always thought Rebecca was shit.
Walter123:It shows you the power of filters. Without a filter, Rebecca is an ugly c*nt. I bet Kurt had to fuck her from behind not to look at that face. Oh, wait. That’s if he could find her c*nt with that huge ass in the way!
Tears blur my vision, hot and welling up, ready to spill. With millions of followers, I’ve seen negative comments before, but never this vicious. And every nasty comment has thousands of likes and comments agreeing and piling on. Everyone hates me.
I know I should stop looking at those posts. I also know that the things my former friends said aren’t necessarily what they truly think. I’ve lived in that house too, and I know what happens when someone falls out of my dad’s good graces. The bullying starts with small things. Like your content is always deemed sloppy and you’re asked to shoot it again, and again. Other people in the house ignore you and refuse to collab with you. You’re put on probation, which means you have a set number of weeks to increase your followers by a certain percentage. If you fail, you’re evicted from the house and dropped as a client.
Dad has everyone so brainwashed that they don’t realize how over the years, he’s taken all their freedom. He’s exploited their skills and star power, profiting from their work in exchange for a room in a gilded prison that looks luxurious only because all his clients tend to come from nothing.
They’re scholarship students, people without the financial and often physical support of a solid family. All it takes to suck them into the vortex ofPure Shineis a few promises and a couple of branded trinkets. A new phone, some designer clothes. The promise of fame.
The fear of losing all those things is such that they don’t realize how their freedom is chipped away little by little. How one rule turns into ten, twenty, fifty. Until they follow because they’ve stopped thinking with their own head; they have too much to lose if they fall out of line. Because Dad holds their destinies in the palm of his hand. He owns them thanks to cleverly crafted contracts that make his clients products, of which he has total control.
I know those things were posted out of self-preservation. Because anyone who refused to bully me would end up just like me.
That’s another thing Dad is excellent at. He makes an example out of the people who wrong him.
I know all that, and yet… those words hurt anyway and those tears break their dams and fall, hot and fast.
I curl up on Luke’s bed, my bed now, with my arms around Lady Marmalade’s fish bowl.
My goldfish swims as close as possible to my face. Her little mouth touches the curved glass near my cheek, as if she were trying to comfort me with a kiss. “You and Luke are the only family I have left, Lady M,” I tell her. “The only parent I have, the man who should have loved me, protected me, and looked out for me, has cut me off. He cut the fat, like he likes to say. Me. I’m the fat. I don’t know if you miss your fish family, Lady M. But I promise I’ll take care of you. Always.”
The tears keep coming and at some point, I fall asleep with my face against the fish bowl and my body curled up in the fetal position. I don’t wake up until someone sits on the edge of the mattress and moves a strand of hair away from my forehead.
Jamie
Bex’s room is dark when I open the door after knocking a few times without a response.
At first, I almost think that she must be out. Then my eyes adjust to the darkness, and I see her curled up on top of Luke’s comforter with something in her arms. I can’t see the color of the dark blue comforter I know Luke favors, but I decide I’m going to take Bex out shopping this weekend and get her a new one. She should have her own bedding.
“Bex?” I call out, but she doesn’t even stir. We’re supposed to go eat dinner in the main dining hall tonight.
Maybe I should let her sleep, but it’s only six pm. And besides, she needs to eat dinner too.
