#||self-development

[fmdalyssia]

||Feb 11 Schedule: End of “Something Promotions||

Feb 11: End of “Something”promotions. Premise: Alyssia’s inner thoughts about promotions ending plus “Something”. Word Count: 588 words A/N: I totally didn’t proof read this and typed it in 30 min because its the last day for this even though i have exam tomorrow orz Not the most satisfied and perfect self-development

It always turned out the same as it did everytime that BEE had their promotions end. Or at the very least, for Alyssia, that was how she felt having her own schedule and promotions come to an end.

Empty. Lonely. 

The doors of her home being just wide and empty.

The fear of returning home to an empty nest, a bed too wide and far too cold—there were so many things that Alyssia herself feared that even she herself found ridiculous—but it came with the territory of being or becoming an idol. That was something she learnt on the first year that BEE had moved out of the dorms, and she, having found her own place to stay, apart from all the other members.

The newness of the situation back then had gripped her like a vice unwilling to let go, the terror causing her to curl into herself under the blankets, fearful of the dark, fearful of a little noise, as though she was a protagonist of a strange, horror movie. If anyone thought that it would be different right now—that’s where they were absolutely wrong.

Alyssia dropped her keys lightly into the bowl right next to the door with a faint sigh, kicking open her door with her heel twice as she struggled to lug in her bag and gifts. How well “Something” did on the charts and was as well received by the public came both as a surprise to bc as well as Alyssia herself, who didn’t really like the song. Sure, it was sultry, sensual and fitted their concept perfectly—but Alyssia hated the way that they had to dance to that song. Goosebumps rose all over her, skin crawling as she performed for the fans, flipping open her skirt with a flirtatious smile, the other hand slowly trailing towards the inside of her thighs in a suggestive dance move.

The wine that she reached from her fridge sloshed into the glass that she was holding, the scent of grape alcohol rising to fill her nostrils. She knew how the new song made people look at them, especially men. The leering grins of those behind the cameras as they filmed their music videos endlessly, dancing to “Something” like a group of girls in a sensual trance. It wasn’t the music that lured them. It was the suggestive dip of her body and trail of her fingers that drew every ounce of their attention and commanded it in its entirety.

She sank into the sofa slowly, allowing the wine to swirl the insides of her mouth and wash down her throat, her eyes flickering slowly as she pressed her fingers into the sofa’s armrest, glancing at the time on the glowing screen of her handphone. Alyssia had disliked “Something” not because that the music itself wasn’t something that she appreciated for liked—but only, for the fact of how it made her feel dirty. Perhaps it was the dance, or the burning eyes of the fevered fans below that stage that cemented that thought within her mind and body, but really, Alyssia found that she didn’t truly care. The damage had been done, the idea, festering like a rotting thought in her brain.

Strange—she had thought that she had escaped her fate of being used and objectified back when she had stepped into the industry, only for her to remain just where she had begin.

1am.

“And then come the late night thoughts, hard to tolerate, too beautiful to imagine.”

[fmdalyssia]

𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔰𝔢𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔱𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔢𝔰𝔠𝔞𝔭𝔢

Date: 31/01/19

Word Count: 990 words

Trigger Warnings: Past Sexual Abuse, Domestic Violence, Physical Abuse, Blood, Maybe Depression

Content: Alyssia’s inspiration to be an idol has never been the glorified honour and riches bestowed alongside with the idol title. Ironically, as much as she tries to avoid being associated with it, her inspiration and motivation to be one as always been her cruel father.

No one knows this, but when bc first approached her to become a trainee, she had rejected the notion to ever become one.

Why?

Because the answer was bloody fucking simple. She didn’t have the money. Or whatever it took to be an idol.

Maybe its because she felt she didn’t have the will, or the competitive spirit to survive in a place she clearly knew would chew her up and spit her out carelessly if she failed to meet their aspirations and visions for her.

Or just maybe because that she was just so fucking afraid of failure.

That word always did loom over her head like a bloody curse after all. She heard it in the pitying eyes of her teachers, who heard about her plight and yet did nothing about things, of the disdain in the other girls who refused to associate themselves with her, and last but not least, the predator like eyes of her very own father, whose foul breath lingered in the confines of her living quarters, whose sweaty arms always encased her like a constricting boa—

It happened again tonight.

She knows this from the ever familiar scream of her muscles in her body, the ache in her loins and the disgusting smell of filth that just makes her wants to retch and scrub her skin till there’s nothing left.

Its probably gotten worse.

She exhales lightly as she cleans off the makeup from her face, the yellowing bruises and purpled markings dotting her collarbone, and smudging her pretty face like an angry patchwork of a terrible quilter.

Her father had heard that someone had approached her in the alley.

“Did they fuck you?” His words slither around her ears like a poisonous snake. “Did they touch you? Did you let them touch you? If you ever leave here, you can forget about coming back ever again. So, Soyeon—did you agree to whatever they said?”

Did you?

Did you?

ANSWERMEDIDYOU

She doesn’t remember anything after that. Or refuses to remember—actually.

She has a feeling that it’d probably hurt far too much to actually remember, so everything is just hidden away, stashed like a crumpled old newspaper in the corner of an abyss.

Its for the best. She comforts herself. Its what works.

But it actually isn’t.

The person that scouts her is waiting for her at the gates of her school again, with a bright smile on his face, and such a hopeful look in his eyes that Soyeon physically cringes, and has to duck into an alleyway to crumple into herself.

The school bell rings, and she watches from the corner of the alley as the person’s face drops, and his feet moves away.

A part of her screams for him to stay—because whether she likes it or not, he’s the only ticket and way out of her own misery. But she has to return home after this, and she doesn’t have the courage to defy the monster that lurks within her house, the king that rules with an iron fist and hurts her flesh every chance that it gets.

She returns home, despondent and dazed—and nothing changes.

Insomnia comes like the worst blow later on that night, because it means having what her father does to her imprint itself on her memory like a broken tape recorder without having the liberty to blackout and stash it away.

Does she want to continue living like this?

She locks herself in the bathroom while he slumbers, her heart pounding in her chest as the light from her phone sears her eyes.

BC Entertainment.

She spends the entire night feverishly researching on the company, and pulling up past auditions and anything she can find that would just help her possibly succeed.

She doesn’t tell her father, but her best clothes are packed in her unusually large school bag, the money that he kept in the piggy bank all taken out—it’s a good few hundred dollars, good enough for a child like her to sustain herself for at least a month or so, she naively thinks.

Her bruised face is made up perfectly again, and she finds herself looking out of the window constantly for a shadow of that male scout again.

She’s usually not that lucky, but it must be luck and fate that he finds her all over again, right in the same alley where they first met.

“Did you think over what I said?” He extends a hand to her, holding out the shiny card with his right hand. “I know it’s a lot to think about but—”

“I know it’s a risk, but I’ll take it.”

She doesn’t know what happens when her father finds out about her theft, or when he finds out she never returns even after going missing for one or two days.

But its only because she’s been accepted by bc as a trainee. She’d make sure he never finds her—even if it means disclosing the torrid details of her past to her terrible company. Even if it means doing whatever it takes to fulfil what they desire of her. Even if it means—being someone other than who she truly is.

Its an ironic detail that she realises years later, when she looks back on her past in the darkness of the night, a glass of wine in hand and a success in the entertainment industry, the question of the day from the mc that had got her freezing in place ringing through her mind.

“What motivated you to become an idol, Alyssia-shi?”

She shatters the glass of wine with a scream against the wall, the red stains of the wine pooling onto her marbled floor like a puddle of blood as she covers her face and sinks into her own misery.

She doesn’t have a glorifying answer like others have. Hers is simple, and yet so so self-destructive.

Its my Father.

[fmdalyssia]

Title: In Stagnation: [Self Para]

Context: Alyssia has been feeling down even with the liveliness of her comeback and endlessly packed schedules. Emotionally vulnerable, she evaluates her (Or at the very least in her own eyes) friendless self.

Word Count: 747 words

Triggers: Insomnia, Depression, Mentions of Past Abuse, Slight Blood

Its supposed to be the busiest time of the year for Alyssia, but honestly, she’s never felt quite so relaxed ever before. With the endless amount of schedules chasing after her feet, the back to back promotions and variety shows that were potentially on the list for BEE to shoot, Alyssia should have felt like a busy bee, frantic and absolutely trashed out due to the abnormal hours of sleeping and waking.

But she felt empty.

The rustle of the soft breeze from the fan in her silent room ghosted over her, like the faintest breeze, the chime of her phone in the dark shadows causing her to turn her head, hair rustling gently against the soft pillow.

3am. Her fingers glided over the screen of the phone, long lashed eyes dull and deadened. She had to be up in two hours time.

Unlike all the other times that she couldn’t sleep much earlier due to late night schedules, this was entirely different. BEE’s schedule had ended much earlier than she anticipated today, and as she turned the key to the door of her house, letting the door crash open as though to announce to the empty apartment that she was home, Alyssia felt nothing but a heavy burden that sank onto her shoulders. Heavy. Depressive. Terrifying.

Perhaps what was truly terrifying was not that she was bloody depressed. But more of the fact that she felt nothing, not even a slightest twinge in her chest, even when recalling back her worst memories of her still existing family.

There had only been one other time that she’d felt very much like this. The familiar feeling of hopelessness filling her bones with an ache that she could never avoid. It reminded her of the person that she was before BC had reached out and insisted she audition to become a star—the time where she cowered under her father’s oppressive fingers, his wild, violent tendencies and terrifying monstrous behaviour.

Alyssia felt the glass of water in her hand strain within her grip at that thought.

Hadn’t she sworn to herself that she would never allow herself to wallow so deep in such a pit again? So why was she even feeling this deep in her chest?

Why—why..the glass slips from her palm, crashing to the floor and nicking her foot as she shifted lightly, glancing at the cut on her foot with detached eyes. Everything that was happening to her, these lack of emotions, these depressive feelings—it was affecting her own performance. There was no need for others to tell it to her straight in her face. She could feel it. As though she was a stranger and not in her own body. The expressionless contours of her face that failed to jerk up into a smile even at the wildest of pranks, of jokes, and the icy atmosphere that always seemed to exude whenever someone asked a question that she failed to answer.

She was failing. Miserably.

Ten years as an idol and she was fading like a star in the night sky, light winking out as she lost its spark.

Funny how she seemed to be the youngest, but yet was the easiest to fall into a slump…huh? Alyssia thought to herself mockingly as she taped up her wound, pulling the glass shard from the cut and reaching for the vacuum cleaner to suck up the remnant shards.

She needed to do something about it—but really what could she do? Alyssia ran a hand through her hair, a flash of agony passing through her face as she stared at the dark screen of her phone.

She didn’t really have friends. Sooyeon was probably busy with her own schedules, and alas, she had no one to confide to all on her own. Maybe Hyeju? No—Alyssia sucked in a breath as she refuted that thought immediately. Many of her idol friends, few as they were—had issues of their own. She shouldn’t let something as little and as minor as losing inspiration to continue down her path as an idol affect them in their peak and their youth..right?

Her slender hand retracted from the phone, pulling back almost abruptly as she stood from her seat, abandoning the communication device to walk towards her room.

She’d cope with it all by herself. Just like she had always did.

Afterall, no one really did hear her cry of help.

Even when she did hint at it.

[fmdalyssia]

NOTES:

January 1: Mini Fanmeeting in Mapo, Seoul

BC City’s BEE Monthly Schedule

Alyssia didn’t really know what to feel as she sat quietly at the backstage, the sound of fans cheering loudly for BEE causing a roiling feeling to surge deep in her gut. How long had it been since they debuted? Since they’ve actually made an official comeback? And still, despite all those years of experience that she had, butterflies of nervousness and horror still fluttered in the pits of her empty but growling stomach.

 I feel like puking. She squatted on the floor and away from the chair that they were supposed to sit on in the waiting room, feeling worse by the minute as the seconds ticked by to their official mini fanmeeting. Alyssia knew that her fans were excited—but she had her own doubts. While as confident as anyone could be on the stage and in front of an audience, she had terrible amounts of insecurity for a regular human.

 Am I too fat? Too thin?

 Did I dance my steps correctly? Did I smile enough?

 Will they like me? Love me? Or will they blame me for BEE leaving for so long?

 Even with BEE’s future at stake on this comeback and the response, she still had somewhat of a shaky confidence in her fans. There had been other times that those fans that had insisted they were on her side and that they loved her having turned on her and stabbed her in the back. Not that it didn’t hurt because she didn’t know them or that they were never close—still, those terrible doubting comments had great amounts of impact on her own psyche. She had wavered, trembled, then crashed as the pressure went on and on. The amounts of night terrors that woke her from her bed, the monsters she held back barely at bay clawing back at her ankles, tearing, ripping until she finally collapsed into nothing but a empty shell of skin and bones.

 It had been a terrible time and experience, but she had gotten over it. Or at least she thought so. The thought of meeting fans again sent her lips paling, the edges of her tongue flicking out to lick the sides quickly, moistening her ruby lips out of sheer nervousness.

“What’s wrong?” She barely hears her eldest unnie, the warmth of a hand on her back jerking her out of her reverie. Alyssia floundered for a moment or two, her instinctive reaction to scream at a physical touch almost trumping over her knowledge that this was someone she knew.

 No. Not here. Not now. She mustered up a trembling smile as she hooked her arm around her unnie affectionately, cuddling into the eldest’s shoulder almost cheekily, watching as a relieved smile crosses the older’s lips. She had always been the most fragile of them all, and a huge part of her always felt deeply guilty at how much the other three had to care for her.

 “Nothing, Unnie~” She quickly does the aegyo that all her unnies can’t stand, laughing as her unnie swats her on the butt, huffing as she pretends to attempt taking her hand out of her grip. “Noo---”

 “Alright, lets go.” She lets a smile lift across her lips as the other two members come to stand by her side, their hands pressing against the small of her back like a comforting presence never to be taken away.

 Its showtime. She steps from the room and out into the screaming waves of roaring fans, a flirty grin on her face and an adoring wave in her hands.