Demi ordered as people started scrambling in all different directions. I locked my fingers together so everyone wouldn’t see them shaking. My legs were tenuous at best, I needed to sit down but my chair was all the way across the room. I would never make it. The photos were flashing through my mind like a sick slideshow. Picture after picture, my face was crossed with red marker pen, on others my face was slashed down to the white card. The words Die and Bitch featured on most of them. I had obviously made an enemy somewhere along the line. Demi thrust the photographs into the hands of two burly security guards. Giving them orders, they turned and left just as quickly as they had arrived. “Everybody out,” she directed, herding people out like a shepherd. Only when we were alone did she close the door and I could finally take off my mask. “Who would do that?”
