Quote:
Originally posted by Nicole
I forgot about this...
It’s 2AM. Katy arrives home and heads straight for the bathroom. She brushes, gargles and washes the salty, metallic taste out of her mouth. She’s been in the recording studio with Luke.
She looks at her reflection in the mirror. It’s worth it, she tells herself. It’s all worth it. But the troubled look in her eyes says otherwise. She changes out of her hot-pink cat outfit and climbs into bed. She needs a feel-good movie. Something to make her feel better about what she witnessed tonight. She chooses her go-to feel-good movie, The Reader.
On Katy’s TV, Kate Winslet stands trial for her Nazi crimes. “What was I supposed to do?” Kate asks in a thick German accent. “I had orders!”
Orders, Katy tells herself. That’s right. I was also just following orders. Flashback to earlier that night. Ke$ha’s square body is cuffed and tied up in a painful angle. From the corner of the room Luke smiles deviously and nods at Katy. Following his orders, Katy drop a rotisserie chicken in front of Ke$ha, just out of her reach (it’s the same brand from the sticker on her door).
Back on Katy’s TV, Winslet is now shaking. On the verge of tears. “I couldn’t just let them go!”
Exactly, Katy agrees. I couldn’t let her go either!
Flashback. With her hands cuffed behind her back, Ke$ha leans her square body forward, reaching for the chicken with her tongue, grunting like an animal. Luke nods again at Katy. She hesitates, but she has no choice. She forcefully SHOVES the chicken into Ke$ha’s mouth. Chicken grease and slime drip down Ke$ha's large, freckled face. Luke chuckles cruelly and turns to Katy. “I’m off to Becky G’s house for a bit. Keep an eye on Fridge” he says, handing Katy the keys to the handcuffs. He also hands her a large cucumber. “Practice your throat tension and relaxation exercises with this while I’m out,” he adds with a smarmy wink. “We’ll hit the studio when I get back.” When Luke is gone, Ke$ha looks at Katy with pleading eyes. Katy looks down at the objects Luke has placed in front of her. The handcuff keys and the giant cucumber. Conflicted. A real-life Sophie’s Choice. After a moment’s hesitation, she picks up one of the objects…and opens her mouth as wide as possible.
“So you see,” Winslet implores. “I was just following orders. How could I let them go?!”
Katy nods, looking more satisfied and less disturbed now. There was nothing I could do either, she convinces herself. The Reader did the trick once again. Feeling the guilt ebbing away, she drifts into a sweet, unperturbed, dreamless sleep.
|
Katy's sleep began peacefully enough, but eventually the nightmare returned. It was always the same one: hoardes of wide eyed children, larger than herself, pawing and clawing at her with drooling mouths, chanting "Sing it again! Sing it again!" Gigantic purple cats would screech and hiss at inflatable beach balls and grimacing palm trees. A refrigerator would moan autotun'dly, and Dr Luke's shaggy unshaven face would tower over her, one hand reaching for her chest and the other unzipping his jeans.
"No... No... NO!" Katy jolted upright, sweating and shivering. She breathed heavily for a moment, trying to forget the haunting images in her mind. She got out of bed and swayed towards the bathroom. After splashing her face and pouting at her puffy eyes and smudged mascara, she returned to the bedroom and reached for her phone. She just had to speak to someone, anyone who might have gone through the same thing.
-
The phone rings, echoing throughout the empty mansion. The bedroom doors to the balcony are wide open, and the curtains flutter in the midnight breeze. A figure sits silently on a wicker chair, staring blankly at the moonlight.
An assistant enters the bedroom, and looks out at Britney Spears' lonely form. He wonders what she must be thinking. It would be unusual for her to be contemplative or philosophical, especially at this time of night. The medication must be in its full throes by now, so she's probably completely paralysed. The assistant picks up the phone and heads out to the balcony. He stands in front of Britney and brings out a tissue. He wipes the drool from her open mouth, her glazed unfocused eyes do not stray from their position as he does so. The assistant puts the phone to his ear. "Hello this is Miss Spears' personal line, who may I ask is calling?"
"Hey it's Katy Perry, I just wanted to chat to Britney."
"Oh I'm afraid Miss Spears is unable to come to the phone right now." A moth flutters down onto the Baby One More Time singer's face, but she still does not move.
"Oh. Okay. Um, are you her PA? Could I talk to you then? This is personal."
"I'm legally responsible for responding on my client's behalf. What's the problem Miss Perry?"
"I was just wondering..." Katy hesitated, but then steeled herself. "What was it like when she worked with Dr Luke? Did he um, do anything? With her?"
There was a long pause. The assistant's mind drifted back to the sessions in the studio for the latest albums. Myah Marie would stand in the recording both, her back turned away from the scene behind her. The assistant would be wiping Britney's limp body clean, while Dr Luke dressed himself.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean Miss Perry. Dr Luke and Miss Spears have always had a professional relationship."
"Oh."
"Just as professional as his relationships with other artists, such as Kesha and Becky G."
Katy got the hint. "I see. I'm sorry I won't bother you again." She hung up and sighed. She guessed she would have to seek comfort from Valium yet again.
The assistant also hung up. He took a blanket off the bed and wrapped it around his client. He would get the cleaning staff to put her to bed in an hour when it would be safe to move her.
As he left Britney alone again on the balcony, the singer remained as motionless as ever. Only in her mind did she move: out of the chair, up onto the railings and then into the sky. She imagined plummeting through the air and slamming hard onto the concrete below. And her troubles would finally be over.
With this image repeating over and over in her head, Britney finally cracks a crooked, narcotic smile.
