For Her - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

To say I was obsessed with one particular human being wouldn't be too far from the truth.

In my mind; life is a film. I constantly feel like I'm acting to a camera that isn't there. Perhaps that's why people find me funny because I always seem to be saying things for a reaction (My audiences reaction) This possibly could be some strain of ego that I have developed, but then I think to myself: I am an average, untalented, 23 year old, retail clerk. Not much going on, other than grief from customers.
So films were an escape for me and I love them for that. For the hour and a half that I am entranced in a world that is not my own, all else is forgotten. Similar to how an alcoholic goes on a crazy drinking bender, I just have a movie night marathon. More recently with one particular actress:

Tara Hart.

She is, of course, beautiful, but that isn't what attracts me to her, its her raw talent at what she does so well. She can make me numb to the pathetic attributes that make my life, even after the film has finished.
I continue to research her to find other features she has been in so my numbness can continue. I end up watching some interviews. She has such grace, such passion for her films and her characters. I admire the dedication she has to her work maybe because I have none for my own, or any life goals for that matter.
My only goal is too exist.
I envy her for this.
I also love her for this.
I want to be part of her life and experience her first hand. She seems like a down to earth kind of girl too. She has only been in 11 films, two were blockbusters and the rest dark independent films which are my personal favourites. She doesn't have a family anymore, Neither do I, She loves classical music, I also adore it.  I cant remember if I really liked it before I got obsessed but I convinced myself I did.
Beautiful brown eyes. Dirty Blonde hair that falls from behind her ear like a small stream of water running down the edge of a glass.  Her hair is the finest fabric that I would pay any price to own.  God listen to me, I sound like one of those little girls who got their daddies to buy them a lock of Justin Bieber's hair for $20,000.
I sound pathetic!
I don't think this is strange, I don't know why but this somehow feels right. To be in unrequited love with someone who doesn't even know I exist. It's a kind of warmth.

Everyone knows at work, its a joke to everyone but me but I play to the cameras and joke along.

"Don't say her name or Christian might jizz all over the customers!" says Eric (My supervisor) to Tommy

"Don't worry, I have a minimum distance of 1 metre so I think the customers would just get the splash backs" I reply, in a fake attempt to join in.

They laugh, they always laugh.
Sometimes I don't know if I'm the comedian or the joke.
Charlotte, a girl who I work with, she is 3 years younger than me. We get along because of our similar love for film and media in general. She is your typical young girl, with the world in the palm of her hands.  She chose journalism, Her dad didn't like this.
She once told me that when she told her parents of her plan to be a journalist, her father told her that she had wished to become "a cunt."
That was the first time she had ever heard him say that word.
Her father had in the last few years come under fire from every news page, some banker bullshit or whatever I can't really remember.  I pushed that stuff out of my memory and replaced it with the monologue from Pulp Fiction. Ezekiel 25:17. I have strange take on what I consider important to remember.
I can remember the year Tara Hart was born without hesitation but I struggle to remember my pin on regular occasions. Sorry, back to Charlotte. She was nice to me, decent even, didn't just see me as a good laugh.
I tried to show my appreciation, by regularly taking drunk calls from her at 2 am about how her boyfriend did this or her friend said this etc. I wouldn't consider us best friends though she would probably beg to differ. She would also say there is something Autistic about me.

"Rubbish" I would tell her.
Knowing full well that I think, act, perceive things differently from the rest. But I would rather be called strange than diagnosed with some personality disorder, which would label me to society as different. Being called 'a bit weird' from my peers would suit me just fine.

Today Charlotte rushed over to me after she clocked in for her shift. We both worked at some run of the mill hardware store called Handy-man's Stash.
Ridiculous name.
Even more ridiculously run by a team of hot headed executives with bad judgment calls.
"Christian!" she explodes
"What is it?" I reply, trying to seem interested.
"What are doing on Friday?"
"I dunno, let me check the rota" I say going towards my phone.

I know what she is going to ask, she is going to try invite me out clubbing with her and her uni friends. So here comes my next camera performance;
I'm going to lift my phone up
Pretend I'm checking the days I'm working
Tell her:
"Oh shoot! it seems I'm working that day."
Then hopefully I can sit at home and watch Tara Hart talk about gun violence in her newest interview on You tube then go to sleep.
Bliss.
Before I can even unlock my phone, she has taken it from my grasp.
"Hey! you don't even know my password!" I reply in a pathetic voice, upset at the invasion of my privacy.
"I know you and I know exactly what your password would be!" She replies in an evil villain type of way.
Of course she would, she is smart. 1993. It's the year Tara Hart was born. I'm predictable like that.
The sound of the click; my phone does as it unlocks, makes my heart thump irrationally. I don't know if it's because I might have to put up with drunken students for one night or whether the fact that someone might actually have me figured out, that scares me.
"Your not working that night so..." She tells me.

A sudden list of excuses appears before my eyes, all over done. I'm done, she finally wins.

"I've been invited by a magazine called Flintz..."

I've heard of them before, once bought a copy because 'you know who' was on the front cover, titled 'faces to watch out for in the future.'

"To do a write up on a Q&A session but I need a photographer to accompany me and I know you did photography"

She pauses.

"Why don't you get one of your uni mates to do it?" I ask

"Because it's a Q&A with Tara Hart." She drops it like a bombshell on me.

I can't...I can't even. Just to be in her presence. Maybe even meet her. I can't even fathom what I would say to her. My body feels like an empty shell, no muscles left to move my limbs, just emptiness. This sensation lasts for 2 minutes before I realize that Charlotte has been repeating my name.

"Christian?!" she says to me like I'm a child.

"Yes." I finally say.

"Awesome!" she says gleefully.

I zone out for the rest of the day, replaying 100 different types of scenarios on how I would finally meet my goddess. Tara Hart. I bet she would greet me with an awkward cute kind of smile. She isn't one of those stuck up celebrities, you see she would take on a screaming crowd with a smile. She isn't that huge so she appreciates each one of her fans.
Down to earth.

The next few days leading up to Friday don't go quick enough. I'm like a child who is waiting to go to Disneyland or for Santa Claus on Christmas eve. I'm giddy and constantly finding myself smiling like an insane person. Every night I stay awake seeing her face whenever I close my eyes.

"Hi there" She whispers to me in my dreams.

 Her smile so perfect. Her eyes are beautiful galaxies I wish to gaze upon for hours and hours. Her perfect jaw line I want to stroke with the back of my hand as I gaze into her eyes intimately. Then I suddenly realize; what if she doesn't live up to my expectations, What if she is repulsed by me, what if she is stuck up, what if I say something stupid and she thinks I'm a weirdo stalker. What if...

Friday eventually comes.

For Her - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Charlotte hands me some over sized camera, Canon I think. The nerves have started to kick in, I have waited for this. The camera practically looks like it has an in-built motor whilst in my hands. Charlotte notices this.

"Whoa man, you're really excited." she says

No shit. I don't think she knows what this person 'who I have never met' means to me. She is the depiction of a better life and I want that so bad. I also want to be with her. Not like fucking her. Be with her emotionally and mentally. But the fucking would be good as well.

"Okay, so like you have watched all her interviews, you know what her new movie is about and the type of questions she has been asked before, so I need you to give me some good questions to ask her?" She explains

"She is always asked the same questions like What was it like to work with so and so etc etc but no one ever asks her how she feels about the characters she plays I've noticed, she seems like she would love a question like that, talk about her passions and stuff." I tell Charlotte

Charlotte smiles in delight at my knowledge. I could write a fucking book on this girl. It brings me comfort that Charlotte is gaining from my deep and dark obsession.
I feel dirty every time I think of it as an obsession.

We head through the double doors into an auditorium. There must be about 100 red seats pointing towards a slight stage. On the stage; a navy blue chair and a microphone resting on a stand, red curtains hang behind them. The press and fans only occupy about half of the seats, like I said she wasn't a big star yet. The place looked like a small theater with a golden chandelier hanging just above the seats.
The ceiling had a huge painting of some god-like figure standing in white drapes with his decedents all around him. Made me think of Tara Hart and all these people who have come to see her like the god-like figure. I tried to see which decedent was me, looking for the one who would be drooling at their feet like a crazed dog.
The stage had a side entrance on the right that went behind a wall, just at the end of the isle I was walking down, there was a door on the wall probably leading back stage or to the stage itself.
We took our seats on the right side of the auditorium, mid way back, didn't want her to see me staring at her starry eyed. I put the camera by my feet for the time being.
Charlotte shrieked in excitement and looked to me to see if I was just as excited.  I was, even more than she was in fact, but when Charlotte looked at me, what she saw was a man that was sweating like a drug addict who needed a fix. I needed to calm down.

"You ready?" She asked

And like that, Tara Hart walked on stage to thunderous applause. I fell into a deep darkness where I could not see straight, my breathing had become irregular and over the top. I felt hot all over my body. My vision dimmed for a second and I thought I was surely to pass out..

"Hi Everybody!" Tara Hart said happily into the microphone

Like a shot of adrenaline, I stepped out of my darkness and looked at her.
She was...magnificent. Beautiful posture. A confident, cheery, talented specimen stood before me. Smiling on stage, just like I had seen her on my videos. She looked across the audience. I hoped she wouldn't see me, not yet, not until I found my cool. Luckily she missed me.
The questions start; same old bullshit she gets asked every interview but she answers them like its the first, such grace. I am mesmerized by every syllable she utters.
Suddenly Charlotte has her hand up like an eager little school girl, it suddenly dawns on me that Tara has started to look in our direction. I sink into my seat, hand over my face.

"Yes, you?" Tara directs at Charlotte

"In your new movie, you play quite a dark character who is dealing with a lot of personal and social issues, how did you prepare your self for this particular role?" Charlotte says strangely professional, for her.

I look up in shock that I finally might get something I didn't already know from this experience. Tara stops for a second, open mouthed. She didn't expect such a good question. I felt a slight bit responsible. Tara snaps back into character.

"Whoa, that's interesting, great question. Well I play the character of Chloe who has some serious social issues, she doesn't feel like she sees the world as everyone else does.."
Tara explains then chuckles.

"..and if I'm honest, I didn't have to prepare myself really because I am socially awkward. I don't like going out in big crowds, I don't like most people, I like to stay in and watch films to escape reality. So it wasn't too hard to get into character." She explains.

I have never met anyone who would say that out loud to an audience: I don't like most people. Other than me of course. At that moment, at that precise moment she said those words, I actually for once in my life felt connected to another human being and that...made me happy.

For Her - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Child-hood

I remember back when my father was alive, he would take me up the country side to shoot. He had his gun license for 9 years before I was born but only truly used it when I was 11. We went to a field near where I lived to shoot some clay pigeons. I missed a lot but my dad was a pro, he hardly missed. He was a caring and gentle man, to see him do something so deadly, so well was a bit surreal at first. After a while I started to get the hang of it.
"Look down the barrel, don't expect the recoil, lean into her and fire." He would say
POW!
At first the ringing in my ears was unbearable, but I just got used to it. The kick back from the double barrel left a bruise on my right shoulder for a couple of days. When my dad noticed I was becoming extremely uncomfortable with the double barrel he suggested we try his handgun.
"Now your mum doesn't really know about this one, so it will be our little secret, hey champ?" he told me
He always called me champ when I was doing terrible at something. From his bag he retrieved a Walther PP handgun.

"Let's try this one, Champ." he said excitedly

After giving me quick instructions on how to load it and take safety off, it was time to pull the trigger and bang. I liked it. In a sinister kind of deep feeling in my stomach. I got extreme pleasure from the power in my hands. Now prior to this he had told me not to shoot the birds, but engrossed in power, I took aim at a flock of birds, closed my left eye, pulled the hammer down and before my dad could stop me; one of the birds dropped from the sky. My father smacked me across my face.

"What the hell are you doing! Didn't I tell you not to shoot the birds." My dad screamed at me.
Then I noticed that he was staring at me, in disbelief.
"You don't care do you, no remorse." He said in disappointment

He grabbed my hand and started to pull me towards the bird I had shot. As we got closer I noticed that the grass was moving around it, it wasn't dead but it was dying. Twitching like its life depended on it, rolling around aimlessly. He stood me closer to the bird.

"Look at him, his now suffering because of you!" He yelled at me

With a blank look on my face; I shot it again. It stopped twitching. My dad as fast as the bullet itself, grabbed the gun from my hand and smacked me again.
My dad never saw me as his innocent little boy ever again and I do truly feel sorrow for that. He referred to me as Damien to my mother and his work colleagues, a reference to the devil child from the 1976 film: 'The Omen.' That is when I started to become more and more reclusive. He died when I was 15 from a heart attack, mum followed shortly afterward.

For Her - Chapter 4

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For Her - Conclusion

A sharp pain wakes me from a deep slumber, I am tied up to what seems like a hundred little wires going into my body. I'm in a hospital bed. I try to move but my shoulder starts to kill. The pain is excruciating, more than I have ever felt before.
How the hell am I alive? It takes me a moment but I realize that Tara is asleep on a chair next to me. Tara Hart is at my bedside! I'm pretty sure I died though. Who cares about the ins and outs, I'm off my fucking tits on morphine, I think.

Tara suddenly wakes up.

"Hey." I say calmly to her like its not a big deal.

"Hey you" She exhales as she wipes the tired from her eyes.

"So.." I say timidly

"So.." She replies.

"I'm Christian Gregory Martins." I tell her.

"Yes you are..I know all about you Mr Martins." She tells me whilst a smile comes to her face.

"I adore you" I say, without even thinking like its been begging to come out all this time.

"I know, Charlotte told me all about you." She says, embarrassed.

She has met Charlotte, of course she has. What did that bitch say about me!?

"So how crazy do you think I am?" I ask

"For what taking out three gunmen and getting yourself shot saving me." she smiles

"Or being utterly crazy about me." she says looking up at me.

"The second one.." I say hesitantly

"Well I have one thing to say." She says straight faced now

I nod as to say go on. Still in awe that my favourite person in the world is sitting next to me.

"What are you doing Friday?" She asks.







THE END