By Caitriona MacTaggart - Year 11, Cromwell College
She's on her feet as soon as the final words ring out.
An army of press follow her out of the room as she starts at a brisk pace down the hallway towards the main entrance.
Questions are being fired at her from all sides, but she ignores them, sticking to the rules of her publicist.
"Over here!'' one yells, jamming a mic in her face.
"Can you give us more information on your relationship with Josh?'' Another burning question.
"What can you tell us about your next album?'' Nothing.
She had been in a room with them for an hour, answering their questions. Had they not gotten enough answers for what was meant to be private?
Flashes blind her and screams flood her ears as she makes her way down the slick concrete steps in a pair of strappy heels someone had forced her to wear.
A slight breeze catches her dress that was far too revealing for her liking, as she tries in vain to hold it in place.
Her eyes meet those of a young girl standing in the crowd, wearing one of her T-shirts, beaming at her like she was the world.
Her heart aches at the sight and she yearns for the millionth time that she was young and naive again.
She can only offer the young girl a slight smile before she is pushed forward again to an awaiting SUV.
Quickly she slips inside, the smell of varnished leather filling the car.
The door slams shut behind her and suddenly the screams are cut off and everything is silent.
Relaxing into the seat, a small sigh escapes her lips as her mind plays catch-up on the morning's events.
Every so often she catches her reflection in the window and she wishes she could run and hide from it.
A pair of red lips are drawn in a thin line, as fake blush tints her cheeks.
Grey empty eyes stare back at her from under a thick coating of eyeliner and concealer, hiding endless restless nights as the tabloids' words play on repeat.
She had chosen this, hadn't she?
And didn't they tell her that fame came with a price? A price she was willing to pay.
Yet, here she was second guessing every decision she had made.
She didn't want to be just another roller coaster of emotions that had run off its tracks.
She pulls herself away from the thoughts as the car rolls to a stop.
A briefing of her next conference is thrown at her in a hurry as a mob of photographers surround the car.
Painting a smile on her face, she exits the car - her appearance a hoax and her patience shrinking.
