I am the damned.

I buried my face within the folds of the cotton scarf, shielding myself from the blinding glare of the flashbulbs that seemed to be snapping like a thousand solar flares at once burning in to my retinas. My eyes were only slightly protected beneath a pair of dark wayfarers; just large enough so as they wouldn’t see the tear stains upon my cheeks.

I closed my eyes and I let a pair of hands guide my lifeless shell in to the backseat of yet another car. The windows were heavily tinted, but I knew that wouldn’t stop the suffocating crowd from trying to peer in and get their money shot.

Every question that was shouted at me just became background noise. My head was too distracted to focus on much save for the nausea swirling in my stomach and the adrenalin that was causing my heart to pump aggressively and my bones to ache. I slid in to the backseat of the SUV, prompted by the burly guard who I had never met before this day.

Yep, there they were, journalists, photographers and fans-alike, all

all trying to peer in to the windows. I kept my face covered. I rested my aching head back against the leather matte seat and pulled the scarf over my face, spreading it across my face a little.

I closed my eyes tightly praying for if only but slight reprieve from the pounding of my heart against my chest that reverberated in to my throat, making it hard for me to swallow, hard for me to breathe, hard for me to… think.

I didn’t even notice the tears sliding down my cheeks. I didn’t bother wiping them away. I knew that if I did, people might see and then the papers would report the tears as ones of remorse or fear or – or whatever. I didn’t even care. I just wanted to be home.

I had never felt so lonely in all of my 30 years of living.

The irony was that my circumstances made me different or unique, they set me apart but despite that, I tried hard not to isolate myself, I didn’t necessarily like being alone, so I surrounded myself with people that I loved unconditionally like my second family, so that I wouldn’t feel this kind of lonely.

Yet, they caused it.

…Or maybe I did? I wasn’t entirely clear on whose fault it was.

If I lived to see the sunlight through this storm, and I doubted that I would, by the way, I would learn my lesson. I would never, ever let another single soul in. I would never, ever trust again.

I was glad when I felt the wheels in motion, the vehicle was moving away from the crowd and gaining speed quickly with the help of a police escort.

Now to make the long journey home and face what was waiting for me there.

The very anticipation of what or who would be waiting for me when I touched down caused me to heave while stifling a fearful sob at the same time.

The gorilla in the suit in the front seat handed me a bag without even turning to face me. I could only imagine what he thought of me and what he had imagined I was capable of. The thought of someone believing the accusation only made me sicker.

I grabbed the bag without a word and evacuated the little contents that was still left in my aching stomach.

I wanted someone to cuddle me -- my Mother -- I wanted her to tell me it would be all right. I wanted her to never let me go, I wanted to reverse time.

Nope, I had never been so frightened and lonely in my entire life.