by Kyle Rutkin
“Don’t you know that I’m coming for you!”
The beat faded into the night. The projector went black. The spotlight fell on Kelly in the middle of the stage. Her chest was rising up and down in exertion. Tears ran down her cheeks. She closed her eyes.
I looked across the stage. Lizzy Anne Michaels was staring at me, unblinking. Cold and callous. She was wearing a crew neck sweatshirt bearing the KT logo. There was something else in her expression. Sadness, pain. I wasn’t sure. My gaze gravitated back to Kelly. She opened her eyes, turned to me. She mouthed two words that gave me chills.
Save me.
Lizzy: Kelly left me a voicemail on the night she died. I thought it was a pocket dial at first. She was sobbing, trying to catch her breath. She kept whispering scattered phrases over and over. He is coming. I need you to be strong. Atonement is near. Bizarre stuff like that. I didn’t know what to make of it. But then she said one last thing before she hung up. She used the voice of the princess when she said it. Her words are so clear in my mind. I need to hear your voice…I’m sorry, can you give me a second?
Jez: She tried to send me away on the night she died. It would have been my first day off in a year. Obviously, I would never leave Kelly’s side. I made sure to stick around and watch.
Lizzy: That was our code, detective. I need to hear your voice. We both had busy schedules, so if either of us said that, we made time. I should have gone to her. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about that. She must have understood what was about to happen. I was just…I was mad, okay? She had made her choice. She chose him. By the time I called her back…I’m sorry, I told myself I wouldn’t cry.
Jez: Yes. I recognize that book. It’s Kelly’s copy. I’m not surprised it was found in a pool of blood. Whoever left it was leaving a trail for you. You must know the truth by now, detective. Kelly and Kaleb rewrote the ending. In fact, they made it better. They made it magical. One day, it will go down as the greatest fairy tale ever written.
Lizzy: Get that book out of my goddamned face. I will never forgive him. I will say his name. Kaleb Reed. He is a monster. Please, detective. Make him pay for what he did.
Jez: I think it’s time for Lizzy Michaels to tell the truth. It’s time for her atonement.
The Real Kelly Trozzo
TheInsideJuice.com Interview 2019
INSIDEJUICE: So, after everything you’ve been through, what motivated you to climb out of that hole?
TROZZO: My art. My fans. I don’t know exactly what it is, but something happens to me when I perform for them. I feel invincible, powerful, and I sing till the veins feel they will burst in my neck, because they are my words, and it is my story and my act and my life and my fans. No one else’s. Not my mother’s, not Barry’s, not Zoe’s, not the princess’s—mine.
Before this is all over, the world will know the real Kelly Trozzo. They will never see me or my fans as weak, or naïve, or vulnerable. They will never use us, manipulate us, or control us again. With every move I make, I go deeper into this liberating image I created with my power of will. It’s invigorating. And I am free.
I want you to know…I didn’t return for my own glory. I returned to lead my fans. I came to give them power. I came to give them the headline they all deserve.
The Blog of Kaleb Reed
(Continued)
Two days after Kelly’s death.
“I’d like you to take a look at these again,” Detective Donaldson said, pointing to the pictures in front of me. He lit another cigarette, exhaled. His grin widened behind the cloud of smoke.
“The infamous Sara O’Conner,” he paused. “Would you mind if I call her by the other name? I mean, I can’t believe I’m looking at pictures of the real-life Alice. It’s nice to put a face with the story.”
I glanced down at the picture. Gray shirt, hair up, a trifling smile in the corner of her mouth.
“Why did you lie to me, Kaleb? You knew I would find out. She’s all over your phone records. You guys even lived together for a short period of time, didn’t you?”
I nodded, sliding the pictures back.
“Wow. AJ almost got his happy ending.”
I couldn’t help but smirk.
“See? Telling the truth isn’t so hard.” Detective Donaldson scanned me up and down, considering my reaction.
“Are you ready to tell me the truth?”
“About what?”
“About what…” He snickered. “About everything.”
ACT II
The Blog of Kaleb Reed
July 24, 2019
I leave the motel for the last time today. The diner is right next door. A final pit stop before the home stretch. I take my seat in a cozy booth and set my laptop over the leftover crumbs on the table. There is something very nostalgic about this diner.
I order toast with a side of avocado. The waitress brought coffee, but she hasn’t come back to refill. I don’t blame her. I can’t imagine how I look. Swollen eyes. Sunken cheeks. An overall faintness. A three-day drug binge will do that.
I want to thank you all for reading, for being patient. For taking the time to comment and tweet. Listening to my ramblings. Dare I say indulging the pleasures of a wanted man? At your request, I will continue onward.
Our finale is near.
I have paced my recreational intake. I need to concentrate if I’m going to get it right. It won’t be easy, but I promise it will be worth it. Who doesn’t love the classics? The myths of old. The princess locked in the tower. The damsel in distress. Evil lurking in the shadows. Happily ever after? Depends on whom you ask. Still, I think you’ll enjoy it.
There are things you don’t know.
Things we must discover together.
To our admirable Detective Donaldson: It’s the wee hours of the morning, but I suspect you are still at your desk, overrun with cups of cold coffee and an ashtray filled with cigarette butts. I’m sure you’re going over the files, wondering what you’ve missed. I’ve seen you on television, standing in the background as the police chief reports your mishaps. You look dreadful. The stress is wearing you down. New expressions are appearing on your brow. Unease. Disappointment.
This is a complicated case. I don’t envy you. You didn’t realize how much backstory you’d need. How much conflicting testimony you’d receive. Things aren’t so black and white, are they? I do owe you an apology. There are a few lapses, a few minor fabrications. Omissions. Time gaps. Things I withheld before requesting my lawyer. As you and I both know, I’m an unreliable narrator. Nothing I say will hold up in a court of law.
I have nothing left to hide. You will all bear witness to the finale. I don’t think Kelly imagined this ending. But she entrusted me to write her story. I’ll take some liberties. This is my story, too. For better or worse. Without further ado. No more lies. No more speculating.
Welcome to our final act.
Lizzy Michaels Spotted at Police Station!
July 24, 2019
It seems like the Los Angeles Police aren’t done with teen star Lizzy Michaels quite yet! Yesterday, the 19-year-old was spotted walking into the Los Angeles Police station wearing a black hoodie and dark sunglasses. Kelly Trozzo’s fan club, @KTroopsOffical, broke the news, posting the photo on Instagram with the caption, “It looks like @LizzyAnneMichaels has been under a lot of stress lately. Maybe she’s feeling guilty about something.”
The person responsible for the @KTroopsOfficial handle did not respond directly to questions regarding the post, though they did comment that justice was coming for everyone involved with Kelly’s death.
The Real Alice
New Mexico, 2015
Silver Creek, New Mexico was a ten-hour drive, seven hundred miles of barren desert. It was an impulsive mission on my way home from work. I was thinking about Sara. It had been three months since the Christmas party. Three months since she went missing. Each day, I was reminded of my failure. I was using again. Anything I could get my hands on. It was the only thi
ng I had to look forward to. I was pushing myself to the brink.
A change of scenery was needed.
I missed the first exit. Then the next one. There was no reason to turn back. A life in shambles. A job I despised. There was something therapeutic about the open highway. The starry night sky in front of me. The warm air felt good. I didn’t have a specific address, just a town, courtesy of Caroline in HR.
Maybe my mission wasn’t so impulsive after all.
I awoke to the hot sun pouring through my car window. Silver Creek was a sleepy town—almost cliché, with its wild tumbleweeds and old brick buildings. Faded signs swung on rusty chains.
I sipped coffee and gazed drowsily out the car window. The momentum from the drive had all but deflated. The thrill was gone. The only clothes I had were the ones on my back. Baggy slacks, a stained button down. What did I expect? I’d bump into Sara running errands in town. She’d be grateful that I’d followed her. What if Caroline in HR was lying to me? She knew how I felt about Sara and that I’d beaten her husband. Why would she give me the real address?
One more hour. Two hours went by. I needed a sign. Anything. This was a fool’s mission. My hands were shaking. Empty prescription bottles filled the glove box. The withdrawals were coming, ready to consume. I’ll call my boss, I thought. Make up a story. I’ll head home. I put the key in the ignition.
And then suddenly, there he was.
Sara’s husband stuck out like a sore thumb—two hundred pounds of flab and flannel bolting across the street. My sign. My precious sign. Yes. God agreed with my bold actions. I was doing the right thing. I grabbed a hat from the trunk and followed him into O’Keefe’s bookstore.
A quaint bell chimed as I entered.
A bookstore wasn’t where I expected to find him. But there he was, among the racks of used books, thumbing through a novel he had no interest in buying. I weaved in and out of the bookshelves, watching, waiting. It was risky. It was a small store. He seemed distracted. I stared at his chubby face, his sparse beard and stained shirt. I despised him.
He flagged down a female employee working behind the counter. She was pretty, but life, maybe this town, something had worn her down. Her hair was in a ratty ponytail. Her nails were chipped. Her brow was tense. Her expression was somber. Sara’s husband and the woman exchanged pleasantries, but there were things unspoken. She fixed her hair, fidgeted. She looked uneasy. She stared at the ring on his hand. The same hands he hit Sara with.
He reached for her elbow and then leaned in, whispering something. A strained smile moved across her face. He had struck a chord. A good memory submerged beneath a pile of shitty ones. High school sweetheart? Silver Creek must have been his hometown.
The woman grabbed her notepad and jotted down her number. Infidelity? Add it to the list. I knocked a book off the rack. They both glanced back. I ducked, pulling down the brim of my hat. I exited the bookstore before he saw me.
I was in the front seat of my car waiting for him. All I could think about was his hands. His callused fingers. Knuckles. I pictured him pushing Sara. Hitting Sara. The same way my father hit my mother. Those fucking hands. I wanted him to suffer for what he did. I wanted to get high. I didn’t want to face my anger. I would need a fix soon.
A decision needed to be made. I’d come all this way. If Sara wanted me gone, she needed to tell me. At least I could apologize. I should have been better for her. Stronger. I should have seen what was happening.
I should have protected her.
Sara’s husband was smiling as he got into his truck. He must have proven his high school buddies wrong. He got the number. After everything he must have put that girl through. I pulled out onto Main Street, following him through the town, onto the highway.
I didn’t have a plan. I needed a plan. There was a fork in the road. Follow him or hit the highway home. A chill ran down my spine. I knew the right decision.
Leave.
Get out of here.
Go as far away from this place as possible.
Nothing good will come of this.
Turn right at the fork.
Do it.
Just do it.
Count to three and do it.
“Stop.”
I swallowed hard. It was him. I didn’t have to look. I could feel his cold breath next to me in the front seat. I hated when he was that close. He had more control. He had this way of making my breath shallow. Making my heart pound and rattle. I was scared of him. He knew it. I always cowered. My voice always stammered. “What are you doing here?”
“Just thought you needed a visit,” Bob said. “I haven’t seen you since you let your brother’s killer go.”
“I…”
“Tell me you’re not thinking about going home?”
I didn’t answer.
Bob chuckled. “You finally have the chance to make amends.”
“But…”
“Don’t be a coward, Kaleb. Follow that asshole.”
He reached for my shoulder. “Aren’t you tired of being a coward?”
The Real Kelly Trozzo
TheInsideJuice.com Interview 2019
INSIDEJUICE: Rumor is, the network offered you your old job back when you returned to the public eye.
TROZZO: They did. As long as I was clean and ready to work.
INSIDEJUICE: Why didn’t you take it?
TROZZO: That role belonged to Lizzy. I wouldn’t steal it from her.
INSIDEJUICE: Speaking of Lizzy Michaels, your fans have been very critical of her.
TROZZO: My fans have always been protective of me. They thought Lizzy was trying to dethrone me. But they don’t know her like I do. I can’t blame her for doing the spin-off. She had an opportunity and she took it. I didn’t get along with many of the cast members, they were small minded and gossipy, but Lizzy—she was my first real friend. She brought light to my life when there was so much darkness. Even if we were just watching movies in my trailer. She’ll never know how much those little moments meant to me.
She might not know this, but she kept me alive during my darkest days. Alone in my room, I would stare at this old postcard of the real Castle Heart. I fantasized about this trip that Lizzy and I planned on taking to France, skipping down cobbled streets with gelato in hand, laughing, dancing, just being kids again. That hope pulled me out of the darkness. I’ll never stop loving that girl. I’m terrified that Hollywood will take her innocence. She still has a chance because she’s still pure, still guiltless. I just hope it’s not too late.
Jez: I never understood Kelly’s infatuation with her. What could she possibly get out of that one-sided relationship? Lizzy was vindictive. Do you want to know what she said in New York? She told Kelly that she should just retire and do us all a favor. That the world was better off when she was alone in her tower. The nerve of her! It makes me so mad. She was supposed to be her best friend. But Kelly knew the truth in the end. That’s all that matters.
The Blog of Kaleb Reed
(Continued)
The lights went on in Madison Square Garden. Abandoned signs, wrappers and confetti filled the aisles. Kelly’s team paraded past security and stadium staff, through the cement tunnels beneath the historic arena. She was wearing the ripped linen toga with a boxing-type robe over the top. Her sweaty, matted hair was covered by a large red hood. As we entered her dressing room, her friends raised their red cups and hollered in celebration. Kelly gave a half smile, scanning the crowd. Jez approached, whispered in her ear. Kelly nodded, then disappeared into another room.
“Everyone get the fuck out,” yelled Jez. “Party is back at the hotel.” She motioned everyone to the door, then grabbed my arm. “Not you.”
I took a seat on the couch as the room emptied. Stale blunts and half-filled liquor bottles littered the table in front of me. Something had happened to darken Kelly’s mood. Playtime was over. I grabbed a half-filled whiskey bottle. Down the hatch. Twenty minutes later, Kelly returned wearing a loose-fitting T-shirt, bag
gy sweatpants, her wet hair tied back. She was distraught, tapping wildly on her phone. Finally, she sat down across from me. Legs crossed. Her eyes were somber.
I broke the silence. “Great show.”
She pulled out a mirror and emptied a bag of cocaine on top.
“Where’s Lizzy?” I asked.
“She left,” Kelly murmured, chopping the fine powder into neat lines.
“Everything okay?”
“Can we stop playing these little games, Kaleb? I’d like to ask you a serious question.”
She snorted, wiped her nose. Offered me the straw.
I refrained.
I was craving something else.
The anticipation of a bigger purpose.
Our eyes met. “I need you to tell me the truth about something,” she said.
I nodded.
“What happened to Sara’s husband?”
I took a deep breath.
Anything but that.
“It’s not that simple.”
“Isn’t it?” She chopped up another line. “I’ve sacrificed a lot for you to be here, Kaleb. The least you can do is level with me.”
I didn’t say a word.
She snorted the next line.