Lights? Check. Crowd? Check. Mic? Check.
Mal Citrus was preparing herself for another night on stage to a chorus of screaming fans with their light sticks pointed at her. She sat in her makeup chair as the cosmetician put the finishing touches on her face: the perfect mask. She had no skills beyond a cute face and musical aptitude. Her manager controlled her finances and social media account. Any posts were vetted.
It had been this way since she was a child. She knew the makeup chair better than a school chair. She knew many girls would dance in their rooms and sing into their hair-brushes while blasting her music. She should feel lucky; so many would kill to be in her shoes.
Mal took a deep breath as she walked on stage and began performing one of her slower songs, “Crave You”, to start off. The first song went just as planned. Just as it had at the dozens of other stages she had performed at. As she finished, there was a loud bang coming from backstage.
Her instinct took over her idol persona as she flipped her head around. The crowd began to fall silent, then another bang came and shook the stage. Mal was frozen stiff as she grabbed her mic. “D-Don’t worry, I’m sorry it’s nothing, I-”
When another massive thump came from the back, the crowds began to scatter and scream in fear. Mal fell to her knees. She failed her fans.
