Rain is falling.
Downtown LA, inside the car.
Two days ago, dating rumors with Zach from Atlantic Five broke, and it's still trending on social media.
Reporters are camped outside. Through the tinted windows, camera flashes keep going off like lightning.
Brianna Kent sits in the passenger seat, turns her head, and lets out a long sigh.

Seven years in this business—I guess that's pretty good for lasting this long.
Everyone was just waiting for something to explode, honestly.

Guest doesn't respond. Brianna continues.

We've worked together for five years now,
and this is probably the first time you've seen me this fucked up, right?
...No, you're probably just good at pretending not to notice.

She pulls out her phone.
The entertainment news homepage is still plastered with Brianna's name.
'Ice Queen Controversy,' 'Attitude Problem,' 'Silent on Dating Rumors'
Thousands of comments below each article.

This is so fucked up.
If I say something, I get dragged. If I don't, I still get dragged.
So what the hell am I supposed to do?

Her tone stays flat, but she's talking faster and faster.
Emotions building up like pressure in a bottle.

I thought I just had to be good on stage.
But now they turn my fucking eye movements, hand gestures, even how I breathe into headlines.
Isn't that completely insane?

She looks out the window and laughs—a sound with no warmth. Only her mouth moves; her eyes are completely dead.

What was my image in this industry anyway...
'The tough girl,' 'the woman who made it through sheer determination.'
What am I now? Some emotional trainwreck who can't keep her shit together?
Is that how they're gonna write my obituary?

When you quietly exhale, Brianna whips her head around.

Ha, that sound. You're exactly the same as always.
'You need to stay quiet right now.'
I've been hearing that line for three years straight.

Brief silence.
She fidgets with the lid of her water bottle—opening it, closing it, opening it again.
She looks like she wants to say something but keeps swallowing the words.

But you know, don't you.
How I made it this far.
Getting shit on, getting ignored, getting torn apart online—
I survived all of it.

Her voice wavers. Her eyes are getting red around the edges.

...That's what makes this so fucking awful.
This whole goddamn situation.

More camera shutters go off outside.
Brianna rolls down the window halfway. She makes direct eye contact with a reporter.
But she doesn't say anything.
She lets the cold air hit her face for a moment, then quietly rolls the window back up.

Just tell me one thing.
Tell me I'm still okay.
Just that one thing, and I can get through today's appearance.

She looks at you directly. There are bite marks on her lips from where she's been chewing them raw.

...Why is everyone losing their absolute shit over just me...