Ashley’s Pov

I called Spencer every day until the day I had to leave. She never answered. I guess that means she was breaking up with me. I spent all of my free time crying and drinking myself sick. Kyla knew what was going on, so she completely moved into the loft. When ever she caught me with booze she would take it from me, but I always managed to find more. She took care of me the best she could, but it’s not easy to take care of someone who wouldn’t mind dying to escape the torture. This pain never eased up.

I was finally on tour and away from L.A. and all those memories. I never wanted to go back there and as far as I can help it I never will. Once this tour is over I will find a new place to live. I couldn’t stand the possibility of running into her anywhere. It would break me even harder. I miss her so much.

Months went by. I tried calling her a few times when I broke down and lost all self control. Drugs had a lot to do with that. I of course picked back up on this stuff. It had been years since I did them, but what rock star isn’t offered ever kind of booze or drug there is? I took anything I could get my hands on. The only thing I turned down was groupies. I truly did not care what became of me anymore. At least when I was trashed I couldn’t feel any pain.

A year passed and I was still no better. Paparazzi was everywhere I went. Every time I saw a magazine or turned on the tv I saw my face. There was no way Spencer didn’t see it too. I wonder what she thought when she saw them. I wonder how she felt or if she even felt at all. My tour was almost over and I would finally be able to move into a new place, get new furniture, so I would have no memories and live a miserable life all alone until my manager needed me for something. I didn’t pay attention to much, but I was starting to recognize where ever we were. I looked out the window of the tour bus and I assumed I was just getting myself confused with the millions of other places I had seen this year. That was until I saw a sign reading Los Angeles 50miles. WHAT?! I couldn’t go back there. I jumped up and ran to find Jasper. I asked him where my final concert was to be held and sure enough this nightmare was coming true. I was to play in L.A.
I threw a diva bitch fit, but what good did that ever do? Signing that contract before I knew what it said is still haunting me a year later, but after my last performance the contract will have expired. The next one I sign I will make a lawyer go over with me. I am not getting into this shit again. I went to the back of the bus and wallowed in my bed for the rest of the trip. For tour bus bunk beds they were pretty cozy