Just how much do we really know about Madison?
Are the Princess Di and Mother Teresa comparisons (a notion yours truly finds completely absurd) actually valid?
As it turns out, we don’t know nearly as much about Madison as we think.
And while you may hate me for what I’m about to do next—in fact, I’m counting on the fact that you will—over the course of the next several weeks, I double-dare you not to follow this feed.
So, without further ado, I present to you the first installment of Madison Brooks’s journal.
Make of it what you will, but please note that I did not make this up, this is not a work of fiction, and it came to me via a reliable source.
As always, feel free to exit through the comments section on your way out.
October 5, 2012
I’m so over it!!!!
So over absolutely EVERYTHING!
Including my so-called friends, my family, my stupid fake boyfriend, but mostly, this stuffy, boring, stick-up-its-ass town.
?
UGH! I feel like I’m dying here, suffocating, drowning—and it’s time to make a move and get the hell out before these uptight, small-town morons take me down with them.
People like to tell me how grateful I should be. Constantly reminding me of how lots of kids who find themselves orphaned at my age end up staying that way until they age out of the system and are forced to move on to dead-end jobs, multiple divorces, jail sentences, drug addictions, unplanned pregnancies, and whatever bleak clichéd scenarios those self-righteous judgmental assholes who don’t even know what real hardship is can drum up on short notice.
Whatever.
I mean, yah, so my parents agreed to raise me—big fuckin’ deal. Fact is, they benefited from the arrangement in ways they’d be smart to never reveal. But of course they won’t hesitate to take all the credit once I’m famous. Just watch!
Totally pathetic but completely true.
And unfortunately, I’ll have no choice but to go along with whatever bullshit story they unearth for
the press about all the heartwarming times we all shared.
But let’s make one thing clear: when my face is on every magazine cover and every billboard—when I’m the most sought-after actress/singer/performer in the world—the only one truly responsible for helping me get there is P.
If it wasn’t for him fabricating my past and arranging my present, I’m not sure where I would be.
The Ghost saved me—spared me from a future too horrible to contemplate. One much worse than the scenario above.
I guess you could say I owe him my life.
Then again, he owes me his too.
Turns out, justice isn’t quite so black and white like most people think. There are lots of varying shades, and it’s better not left to chance.
And now, because of the choices we made—because of the way P went out on a limb for me and put his whole life on the line—our destinies are forever entwined. If I ever go down, he’s going down with me. Though I’m pretty sure that only works one way. Because if P goes down first, he’ll go down alone. And he’ll take all my secrets with him as well. He already proved it six years ago when he made a choice to save me. Which is why I guess, in a lot of ways, I consider him my real father.
Anyway, tomorrow is the day I board the bus to LA and never look back.
P says he’ll handle my parents, all I have to do is write the note he already dictated.
At first I’ll stay with him until I’m old enough to get my driver’s license. Once that’s done, he’ll help me score a sweet apartment I’ll have all to myself!
Luckily, P knows a lot of people—the influential kind that can help kick-start my dreams so I can get on with my life.