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I get off the stage and start looking for my men. I brace for the tongue-lashing they’re going to serve me when they find me.
I probably deserve it, but fuck it. I said what I said—and I meant it.
Kara
Okay, this shit fucking ran away from me—and fast.
Walking off the stage and away from the cameras, it doesn’t feel fast enough, though. It feels like a continuation of the slow-motion horror show that my trip keeps turning into.
The whole world wasn’t there to see me climbing like a badass to new heights, but the whole world’s now reeling from watching me stumble and tumble down at the last fucking second.
I stand by what I said. That speech, probably still playing on closed captioning in a hundred different fucking languages around the globe, is the result of a hot mess of my own oversized baggage.
I’m talking about some monstrously heavy fucking shit that I knew I was carrying but didn’t think about. Before my widely broadcasted speech, I couldn’t even put it into words.
Of course, I ended up dropping it, spilling my shit all over the place. And, really, it’s no goddamn surprise that it happened in front of the entire world.
The hot, blinding lights and the amplified sounds of the pageant winding down are thankfully growing distant as I plod away from the stage.
Production assistants, stage crew, prop wranglers, and a whole bunch of random fucking people are milling around the backstage. After sweating under those lights for an eternity, I can’t really see shit just off-stage.
I can tell everyone’s ignoring me, acting like I’m an invisible naked specter. Really, what does anyone have to say to me at this fucking point?
Congratulations?
That would just be mean, and I’ll give most of the people here some credit—they’re not going to be that fucking brutal.
Most of them, anyway. Including my fellow contestants—most of them will be professional and not fucking cunts, even after that display.
My eyes are adjusting to the light, and I don’t see any of them traipsing around. It’s not like I’m too worried about running into them, anyway.
Chase and Eric, on the other hand…
I’ll have to try to explain, and they’ll have to try and understand. I know they’ll be disappointed, but fuck, so am I.
I’m not disappointed at myself for that speech. In a way, it’s probably the best speech I could’ve given. But I’m still disappointed at the way things are going to turn out because of it, because I didn’t stick with the plan.
I’m confident I’ll get through an entire widely broadcasted pageant with literally nothing to hide, and I’m just as fucking confident that Eric and Chase are concerned with me not sticking to the plan.
That’s probably all they’re concerned with right now...wherever the fuck they are.
All the effort and time we put into this...just for me to stand there and intentionally throw away any chances I have of winning.
To me, it’s more complex than that, but to them, surely...
“Kara!”
Fuck, how far am I walking? I turn around at the sound of my name, only because I recognize that booming voice. It’s a voice that I still fucking love hearing say my name, even when it’s because of disappointment.
“Kara!” Chase calls again, even though he has my attention. He and Eric are standing way behind me, just off the side of the stage.
That’s why Chase is smiling: because even though he’s disappointed, he’s still tickled that I would just fucking walk right past them on my way off stage.
I traipse back to where they’re standing, looking at the ground, trying to think of what to say for myself, but...fuck it, I said what I wanted to in my speech. They can think whatever the hell they want.
“Kara!”
I’m still looking at the ground when I hear Chase’s voice rumbling my name like two inches away. I look up, startled, to see Chase and Eric smiling.
