"Looks like pop star Alex Walker has finally fallen from grace," the news anchor announces with a wickedly delighted smile on her red painted lips. "The teen heartthrob refused to go on stage last night for a sold out show in Europe. This is the second night in a row he's refused to go on stage after reportedly trashing not one, but two hotel rooms the night before. Looks like the squeaky clean pop star is no more," the woman goes on at her desk, projected on the TV.

It's all over the news and tabloids. Good boy Alex Walker has finally fallen off the deep end. It was only a matter of time before he had his childhood star breakdown.

After I left two days ago, it's been reported that Alex refused to go on stage that night and ended up trashing both his and my hotel room. He also refused to go onstage last night and hasn't been seen by the public since the day I left.

"Joslyn!" Alex screams, pounding his hands on my apartment door.

I keep quiet, my back pressed against the door as I sit on the floor, hoping it'll help block him out somehow. My hands cup my mouth to hold back the sobs that threaten to spill out. He's been at my door for five minutes now, begging and pleading for me to answer. He must have flown here all the way from Europe.

"Joslyn, baby, please," he pleads, his voice becoming softer, less frantic, and the pounding stops. "Joslyn, I know you're in there. Please open the door, and let's talk about this. Please, baby, just tell me what's wrong and we'll fix it," he begs hopefully.

I clamp my hands harder over my mouth to muffle the sobs as tears stream down my face and blur my vision, because nothing can be fixed.

As much as I want to rip this door open right now and fling my arms around him, I can't. It'll only make things worse, and the consequences will only be greater if I don't fully commit to Chris's original plan.

"Joslyn," Alex pleads again with a sigh, the doorknob jiggling. "Baby, please."

After a minute of silence I feel the door shake against my back again, the pounding persisting.

"Sir, if you don't leave now I'm going to call the cops," I hear Mr. Hankin, my neighbor across the hall, threaten.

"Lay off, pal," Alex growls. "The girl I love is in there, and I don't know what the fuck is wrong, and I'm not leaving until everything's ok."

"Suit yourself," I hear Mr. Hankin grumble.

"Joslyn!" Alex carries on.

Twenty minutes later is when I hear the cops show up, their heavy footsteps echoing through the hall of my apartment complex and the static of their walkie-talkies faintly fading in and out.

"Sir, we're going to need you to leave the premises," one cop tells Alex.

"No, my girlfriend is in there and I'm not leaving until I know she's ok," Alex explains frantically.

"Well, if she's not answering it's obvious she's not home, so why don't you leave?" the cop suggests.

"She's in there!" Alex roars, losing his patience.

"Then I guess she doesn't want to talk to you."

But I do!

"Sir, we're going to give you thirty seconds to leave the property or else we'll have to escort you out of here," another cop says.

"No way in hell," I hear Alex say before he turns back around, pounding on my door once more. "Joslyn! Joss, baby, please open up! Whatever I did, I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry! Please, I love you!"

"Sir!" the officer booms and then there's a scuffle in the hall.

"Let go!" I hear Alex demand in the middle of the brawl. "Joslyn, I love you! I love you so much, please just talk to me!"

I clamp my hands over my ears, unable to listen to his cries as the officers struggle to carry him away, my heart breaking.

When I'm sure they're gone, I let the heavy sobs I've been holding back escape my mouth, tears streaming down my face.

How in the world did everything turn out this way? Never in my wildest dreams did I expect my job to end up like this. But that's the thing about dreams, they can turn into nightmares in the blink of an eye.

Instinctively, I find myself fiddling with my fingers, the pad of my thumb running over my tattoo etched onto my middle finger, something Alex always does. I look down at my tattoo, the word limitations with a strike through it.

Looks like you were wrong dad, I bitterly think. There are such things as limitations in this world.

Life isn't some fairytale where you can automatically expect a happy ending. No, in life you have to expect anything and everything to happen, good and bad.

In life, the good guy doesn't always win, and villains aren't so obvious. In real life, villains don't wear capes and stupidly spit out their elaborate plans for someone to overhear and save the day. No, sometimes they are dressed to the nine and are well respected people that others want to work with.

As much as I want to be a hero, I can't. Chris is too powerful for someone like me to take down, and I know he's ultimately right. And as much as it hurts right now, I know Alex will forget about me and move on. He deserves better than me and will go on to thrive without me holding him back.

Why?

Because this isn't some fairytale.

This is reality.