I live for stories that take me places I’ve never been before. This was one of those stories.
There was a lot I did to get to this point, to get 42 million followers. Some of it I was proud of, most of it I wasn’t.
There was a group of us, all internet celebrities, and everyone wanted in, which is how six of us ended up living in this mansion, a camera always on, the public always watching. Two months and nine carefully scripted TV episodes that would get us more of the three F’s we were desperately chasing.
Fame. Fortune. Followers.
I knew my role. I was Emma, the unlikeable one. The dark villain with the devious smile. The package of dynamite that would blow up any chance of peaceful living and harmony.
Cash knew his role. He was the good guy. The lovable one. The one that everyone, even the darkest cast member of them all, would fall in love with.
They were supposed to just be roles.
None of it was supposed to be real.
My heart didn’t get that memo.