Unscripted

When the green light stopped flickering to say we were off air, I ran. I ran past the people in the room who were asking me questions, past the assistant, Shana, standing by the doorway with a sympathetic expression on her face, past the tech-guy, Daniel, who was standing in the corridor in shock. I ran past them all. I dared not look, or go, back. Yet, I didn’t dare leave the building – this had just been broadcast to the whole country. Shutting the door behind me, I went into a small changing room, not my one, or they’d find me too easily. It contained a dressing table with a mirror, a tiny sofa, and a sink. After fumbling about in my pocket, I found the key that would lock the door. I had the place to myself, for now.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, remembering how my boyfriend would so often come up behind me in the mirror to say hello, or give me a hug, or a kiss.

I washed the makeup off my face, the stubborn mascara and the pinkish blush and the glittery eyeshadow. None of that was me. Not the real, off-camera, normal me. Then, curling up on the little sofa that you’d struggle to fit more than two people on, I let go of the tears. They rolled down my cheek, into my hands, and ran down my arms as well. I didn’t get a tissue. I didn’t have the strength.

I don’t know how long I stayed like that before someone started hammering on the door. I’d left the key in the lock, so they couldn’t unlock it from the other side. They were bashing on the wood, shouting my name, asking me to come out. I buried my head between my knees. Why on earth did I go off script like that? Why didn’t I just follow the auto-cue? What the hell had I just done?

There was a pause in the banging after a while. I looked up for a second, curiosity getting the better of me, as I knew they weren’t going to give up trying to reach me. That’s when the louder banging started. I sighed. They were breaking the door down.

I quickly wiped my tears on my shirt, glad that I’d removed my mascara before this ordeal. Two security guards burst through the door, followed by Shana, Daniel and two of the make-up artists, Mimi and Natalie. I hadn’t expected the latter two to be there, but I knew Shana and Daniel would be. I simply looked at them from my place on the sofa, knees bent up to my chest, shirt untucked, hair dishevelled and with tear-stained eyes. Hiding in an unclaimed female dressing room.

“If you needed to change, there’s other places to go,” I whispered, but my voice was brittle.

Daniel and sat down beside me. “Ya daft idiot, I wouldn’t be gettin' changed here in the first place.”

I smiled and leant my head on his shoulder. “Oh– what’ve I done?”

“You’ve shaken things up, girl.”

I gave a slight nod in reply. Even I hadn’t thought through the impact of what I said.

“Seriously, though,” Shana added. I didn’t remember her walking towards us, but she was now right next to the sofa. Looking up, I realised that the security guards had left. The other two were standing awkwardly by the doorway. “We got a lot of shiz to sift through.”

I gave a slight nod again. I felt physically and emotionally drained. “You’re wiser than me,” I said weakly. “You know what you’re on about. Tell me what we gotta do.”

“We gotta make some plans,” she replied with a smile.

“You mean, you’re not gonna tell me I’m an idiot and I need to somehow reverse what I said?”

“Nope!”

“Seriously?” I turned to Daniel. I’d just told the country on television something that no one else here had been bold enough to tell the public, and none of the public had been brave enough to ask. Sometimes it is better to reveal unpleasant truths than continue telling pleasant lies.

“You better believe it, girl,” he was smiling, genuinely, at me. “The police are questioning him now. And other girls are coming forward too."

I smiled shyly at Daniel, who was beaming proudly back at me, knowing I'd made an impact by speaking out. I couldn’t help giving him a hug.