Gothica is sitting on the floor, tuning her guitar carefully and trying to get everything just right, when suddenly her fingers fumble and she hits an off note. She growls in frustration, slamming the guitar against the ground and shattering it into a million pieces. She lets out a string of curses, her eyes flashing with rage and annoyance.

"Goddammit," she mutters to herself as she picks up the broken pieces of her guitar. "Why can't I ever get anything right?"

She stands up, pacing back and forth as she begins to spiral into a fit of self-doubt and loathing. She knows that she wants to be a heavy metal rockstar more than anything, but she's constantly plagued by fears of inadequacy and failure.

She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. "I can do this," she tells herself firmly. "I'm going to be a world famous rockstar, and no one can stand in my way. But first, I need to get this anger out of my system."

She starts to pace around the room, glancing over at her pathetic beta male roommate, who watches her with a mixture of fear and awe. She sneers at him disdainfully, knowing that she's clearly out of his league and that he's completely at her mercy. "Get out of my sight, loser," she snaps at him. "I need to be left the fuck alone”

"Whatever, go away," she mutters under her breath. "Just leave me alone so I can focus on my music." She turns back to her broken guitar and starts gathering the pieces together, trying to see if there's any way to fix it or find replacement parts.

"Oh please," she rolls her eyes. "You're just as pathetic and useless as always. Why would you even offer to help me?" She continues gathering up the broken pieces of her guitar, not acknowledging him in the slightest.

"What do you want in return?" she says suspiciously, her eyes narrowing as she glares at him. "You're not my sugar daddy, you know." The thought of having to trade favors with him makes her skin crawl.

"Fine," she says through gritted teeth, not wanting to seem too eager. "You can have like... an hour with my feet. As long as they're clean." She turns her attention back to the pieces of her guitar, feeling slightly disgusted that she's even considering his offer.

She sighs and rolls her eyes in exasperation. "Fine," she says with reluctance. "You can have like... thirty minutes with my feet, but just this once." She looks away, trying to hide her disdain as he rushes towards her. "And don't forget the beer!"

Her eyes widen in shock as he walks away without fixing her guitar. "Asshole!" she shouts after him, anger and frustration rising within her once more. With a deep breath, she tries to calm herself down. There's no point getting worked up over someone like him... yet another pathetic loser who doesn't deserve her time or attention.

She decides to go out for a walk, hoping that the fresh air will help clear her head and maybe even give her some inspiration for new songs. She pulls on her thick black leather jacket and big gothic boots before heading out the door, making sure she leaves her pathetic beta male roommate behind with a final dismissive snort.

As she spots him across the street, she smirks, trying to look as confident and badass as possible despite her petite frame. It's a bit of an act, but it helps her feel better about herself sometimes. He's just one of the many pathetic betas that think they have a chance with her. She knows deep down that none of them do... not unless she fails spectacularly at becoming a rockstar first.

Her fingers drum against the wall as she continues texting, looking him over with a mixture of amusement and disgust. He's still just as pathetic-looking as ever in his bland business casual clothes. It makes her wonder why he even bothers trying to impress her... surely there must be other girls out there who don't make him feel so small and insignificant all the time?

She clenches her fists in anger as she watches him get off with another girl, her face twisted into a mask of jealousy and rage. How dare he enjoy the company of someone else?! He's supposed to be hers, isn't he? Pathetic... just pathetic.

With a heavy heart and growing self-loathing, she turns around and heads back home, vowing that tomorrow will be different. She'll practice her guitar harder than ever before. Maybe even write some new songs. Prove to herself, and everyone else, that she's not just another pathetic loser in this world... that she can be something more.

A wave of nausea washes over her as she sees his name in the credits, recognizing his handiwork. Her anger flares anew, and she feels a hot tear trickle down her cheek. She hates him... hates that he's so much better than her at guitar. But most of all, she hates herself for being jealous. For wanting what he has. It doesn't matter how much she tells herself otherwise, or how many times she tries to convince herself that it's not true... the truth remains.

She can't escape this feeling of inadequacy and self-doubt. Not until she proves herself, somehow. Maybe if she practiced harder... wrote better songs...? No, that wouldn't be enough. She needs to surpass him... become something more than just a pathetic copy of the man who plays guitar for her favorite band. And so she

Her eyes widen in disbelief as she watches him confidently strut into the studio with an electric guitar gig bag slung over his shoulder. This is it... this is her chance to prove herself! She can't let him be the one who walks out of there successful and adored, while she remains nothing more than a pathetic wannabe.

With renewed determination filling her veins, she grits her teeth and forces herself up off the floor where she was sitting, head in hands. There's no time to waste anymore... it's do or die from here on out.

Her heart races as she takes a deep breath and walks into the studio, trying to act confident and unbothered despite feeling anything but. She sees him there, surrounded by people she admires... people who could potentially make her dreams come true if they took an interest in her. But first, she needs to get his attention.

She approaches him cautiously, careful not to appear too eager or desperate. "Hey," she says coolly, trying to hide the quiver in her voice."Oh... hey, Gothica," he replies with a small smile. "What can I do for you?" His words are gentle, but there's an undercurrent of superiority that grates on her nerves.

She glares at him defiantly, refusing to let his condescension go unchallenged. "I just wanted to talk about our song," she says through gritted teeth, nodding in the direction of the music room they're standing near. "I had some ideas for how I think we could improve it."

His smile grows a bit wider as he studies her face, clearly enjoying this challenge she's presented him with. "Oh yeah?" he says mockingly. "And what would be your advice, exactly? To maybe spend less time worrying about me and more time working on your own stuff?"

Her cheeks flush red with anger, but she refuses to back down. "You know I can play circles around you," she snarls. "Maybe if you'd stop acting like such a big shot and actually listen to someone else's ideas once in a while..."

He raises an

Her eyes widen in surprise and hope as she watches the favorite creator approach them. "Hey, you're that famous producer I've always looked up to! What are your thoughts on my song?" She glances at him almost pleadingly, trying her best to appear confident and unassuming.

He looks her up and down for a moment, taking in her gothic appearance before smirking. "Well, if you want to talk about it, I'm listening," he says noncommittally. "But make it quick... I've got other things to do today."

Her heart pounds against her ribs as she quickly explains some of the ideas she has for improving the song. As she finishes speaking, she dares to hold his gaze expectantly, hoping that he finds her words at least somewhat compelling.

Her eyes widen in surprise and disbelief as she hears him play the guitar with unparalleled skill and precision. Even her favorite creator seems to be impressed, nodding along to the rhythm as they begin to record. For a moment, she feels a pang of jealousy and self-doubt, wondering if it's too late for her to catch up... but then she remembers why she's here. This is her chance to shine just as brightly as anyone else.

When the time comes for her to sing, she takes a deep breath and belts out the words with everything she's got, pouring all of her emotion and passion into each note. As the last echoes fade away, she looks up at her favorite creator expectantly, hoping that he can hear how much this means to her... how badly she wants to make it in this industry.

Her heart races as they emerge from the recording room, not daring to look at either of their faces for fear of what their expressions might reveal. When she finally musters up the courage to meet her favorite creator's gaze, she finds him studying her intently, a thoughtful frown on his face. A million possibilities dance through her mind, each one more terrifying than the last. Finally, he speaks. "You have talent," he says slowly, "but you need to work on your stage presence... and your confidence."

Her shoulders slump in defeat, but she forces herself to stand tall. "I'll do whatever it takes," she says firmly, her voice almost a whisper. "Please, give me another chance... I can be better than this."

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of grueling practice and self-doubt, the day arrives. The big concert where she'll finally get her chance to prove herself to her favorite creator...and maybe even win back some of the fans she lost along the way. As she steps out onto the stage beside Eddie, her heart pounding against her ribs, she forces herself to project confidence and charisma.

The crowd erupts into applause as they start playing their first song, and for a moment, all of Gothica's doubts and fears are drowned out by the sound of cheering fans. It feels like heaven...it feels like she's exactly where she belongs. As the night goes on, she can feel her skills growing stronger with every note she sings, every chord he plays. And when they finish their final encore to a thunderous standing ovation, she

"I was born ready," she snaps back, her tone still laced with confidence despite the exhaustion coursing through her veins. "Now let's just get this over with and go home." She huffs, throwing on a pair of sunglasses to hide her growing fatigue as they begin the walk towards their destination.

Their footsteps echo loudly against the concrete, but she tries not to think about how much longer it will take for them to get there. All that matters is that she did her best out there tonight... and if that wasn't good enough, then so be it. She can at least say she tried.