Model Perfect

Chapter 10: Biopsy

The only choice I have now is to forget Arlo. It's not Arlo's fault the party went haywire and that my followers' list keeps going down in size. Do those thousands of people even know the real me? I'm starting to think no one knows who I am anymore. Rosa wanted to be my friend for fame. Now I am the slutty friend, who is shacking up with the hot camera guy from school.

Popularity is like the tide, it pushes and pulls the waves back and forth to shore. The moon forces the tide to rise like my heart makes my emotions boil over. My emotions have been boiling for a while now, festering deep between the pores of my skin. Rosa was the scapegoat I needed. The pressure valve snapped and our friendship right along with it.

My thoughts at this moment are to stay away from Rosa and forget we were ever friends in the first place. Perhaps our friendship was merely a facade, desperation on my part for a female friend and popularity seeking on hers. Maybe it was a doomed friendship this whole time, and nothing will f**k you harder than a facade. Facades are like those old theatre masks my English teacher showed us. The Grecian actors would hide behind them and tell their tales. What I won't give to wear one of those over my eyes right about now.

The night seems endless and I am pretty sure I didn't sleep a wink. The owl next door sang his hoots all night. The bats caught their moths, and I wish I were one of them. Hanging upside down to sleep in a secret place hidden from judgment. But I will never sleep, especially during the day when Model Perfect calls my name. Model Perfect is like a siren who called to me, and my parents jumped for joy at the opportunity. Maybe I never truly wanted to learn how to model. But my parents, God bless them, making big decisions on my behalf. It's what they've always done and what they will always do. They are the absent decision-makers in my life until I leave. College couldn't come here any sooner.

The morning sunlight breaks through my canopy bed's curtain. The reflection of the sun dances with yellow hues across my white fluffy comforter. That's when I hear the loud banging on my door. It can only be one person, and I only hope it isn't because it will only start again. It being Hunter's punching bag. I don't have it in me to sit there and be swung at. It's a rare occasion occurrence, that I don't want to repeat the process this morning.

I quickly make myself look sexy for him, so he will be in a better mood. The door opens and already his hand flies across my face. My high cheekbone under my left eye burns from his fingers. Perhaps this is the true Hunter. Maybe he's always been an abusive ass and his excuses don't mean anything to me anymore.

My head falls to the side from the burn of his slap. I don't make eye contact with him. I don't even cry, my instinct is to grab an ice pack.

"You like slut. I told you to stay away from the camera loser."

"His name is Arlo. And he found me alone at the party."

Hunter hands me his phone and within a text message session between him and Rosa, is a photo of Arlo kissing me on the cheek.

"For godsakes, he kissed me on the cheek. Rosa ditched me at that s**t fest party last night. She left me to sleep with your buddy, Jeremiah. So don't go slapping my face."

"You're my girlfriend, you little w***e. It's about time you remember that. Tomorrow my band is playing and you will come and support me the way a good girlfriend would, are we clear?"

I know Freddie would want me to do everything in my power to keep the facade of this relationship going. Sometimes I wonder if this relationship for the public eye is worth my mental health. Clearly, it is when ice packs are involved to cover the fact that Hunter hits women. I'm the one he hits the most. He bragged to me once that he hit his maid. I don't know if I believed him then, but now I do given his track record of hitting me whenever he wants and for whatever he wants.

"Yes, Hunter we are perfectly clear as long as you don't tell Freddie."

Freddie wants me to be careful with my body. The last time Hunter hit me, the excuse was I fell down the stairs. That was five months ago.

"You fell during the party last night and needed rescuing."

"No one will believe that stupid. The live streams would confirm that Tanya poured spiked lemonade all over me." I tell him.

He wasn't even there last night. I'm pretty sure if either of us is cheating, it's Hunter. I have to practically beg the boy to be or act romantic on dates. I'm tired of asking for a boy's attention. Especially this boy. I know I'm a model and I must be good-looking or got enough to get someone else in my life.

"Well, you fell on your way out to your car because you had too much sugar in your drink to see straight. I'm sure he'd buy that excise."

"Or I could just tell him that you accidentally swung your hand at me while trying to explain something with hand gestures." Hunter stops and accepts this excuse.

I shouldn't have to make excuses for his abuse, and I know that. But deep down, if I am being honest with myself I am terrified of Hunter and what he is capable of. He'd kill me if given the chance and that is terrifying in and of itself.

"Can you play that song you wrote for me? The one you sang at the party at Rosa's?" I ask, hoping this will calm him down. If I show interest in the romantic side of Hunter he might lighten up and become normal again.

"Yeah, I think I could play that with Aftershock tomorrow at practice. And thanks for agreeing to stay away from Arlo. Other than your school project, steer clear of that guy he is nothing but bad news."

His word sounds final. Like if I want to have friends other than the ones assigned to me the world will end, the zombies will come marching, and that will be that.

I give Hubter the half-assed smile he crashes, where I curl my lips up at him. It's a signal of compliance and approval on my part. This must be how Princess Diana felt trying to obey her husband. The world knew she had to pretend to be something she wasn't and it destroyed her. That's how this is for me, I am trapped in a model's body with a career that I want and don't. I never thought I would want something at the same time as hating it. I love posing for photos, but the pressure to be more than myself follows me like the ghosts of thousand deaths.

Being Hunter's girlfriend comes with decisions and some of them I hate with all my heart. To be myself means I will be no one. To stuff it down means I will be loved by thousands of people on i********:. In the world of social media, that's what I want right? It all sounds shallow and superficial to me, if I am being honest. But the thing a bit honesty is I haven't felt it in a long time.

"Sounds great, Hunter. I can't wait to hear you play that song for me again." Hunter takes the ice pack away from my cheek and puts it back in the freezer. He hands me a Tylenol and a glass of water.

"This is for the pain. Sorry I got you on the face."

I want to strangle him, but I am not strong enough. He apologizes so easily like it will cover up the fact that my jaw is raw and feels like a fire.

"Let's not talk about it. It will go away on its own. Just remember to tell Freddie, it was an accident," I say.

Hunter hands me a large band-aid to cover it up. Like no one will notice a large band-aid on my face. Smooth very smooth. But I do it for Hunter, as a means to cover his ass which doesn't deserve forgiveness at all.

"Excuse me, Hunter. I need to leave. I have a doctor's appointment. Freddie wants me to get blood work done today, to make sure I am well."

It's a lie, but Hunter can't know about my thyroid tumor. He'd write a song about it and call it my evil twin. I touch my neck and feel the lump. My neck is starting to resemble a ski slope these days.

"Alright. I will see you at band practice tomorrow. And I am sorry I hit you, Emma. I love you, you know it won't happen again right?"

This is what he says every single time he feels fake bad for striking me. I just reassure him that's its fine when it's not, because of my character flaw of fearing confrontation.

"Bye, Hunter."

I leave him behind and drive myself to the doctor. I miss my parents being around. Being alone, on my own has made me forget what having a family feels like. Their work is more important than me graduating and moving on with life.

The doctor's office is cold and covered in bricks. The concrete surrounding the building makes it feel like an empty tomb, I have been sent to die in.

I sign in with the receptionist. As usual, I sign a few autographs to the other people my age or younger, who recognize me. The nurse calls my name and I follow down the hallway.

The check my height and weight. They perform their medical routines on me. The doctor walks in with a face mask on. I lean back in the medical chair as instructed.

"Hello, Emma. This is going to hurt a little. I am going to lean you back and have you look at the tropical photos on the ceiling. Take a deep breath and try not to move. I need you to be very still, so I can give you accurate test results."

The nurse cleans up my neck for the procedure. They show me the large needle that will be entering my thyroid tumor. He describes it like scientists getting an ice sampling from Antarctica. The scientists shove a large tube into the earth to get a large sample of the polar ice. That's how a biopsy works, the needle goes into the deep tissue of my thyroid to pull out possible cancer cells. I am hoping there is no cancer and that I can get out unscathed.

The first needle goes in and its hard to sit still. The tropical photo blurs into blue and green hues. It makes me cry a little bit. Two more samples are taken and two more large needle pokes enter my tumor. They bandage it up and tell me to take it easy for a day or two. What an invasive procedure, I only hope I sat still enough to avoid having cancer. Cancer would be the death of me, and would be the end of my career. For my sake I hope I won't have to end up choosing between my body and my career, because I will always choose my career.