"What the hell were you doing to her?" Felix says, his voice practically a growl.

He's looming over the angels as they huddle in the corner of the room. He's lost the top hat, but he's still dressed in the vampiric black ensemble he wore on stage, adding to the air of menace. Even though he's standing casually, almost relaxed as he addresses them, at any moment I could imagine him lashing out and grabbing one of them in a chokehold.

"Explain," he says. "Immediately."

"Did they hurt you?" Alastaire whispers to me, his mouth right next to my ear. He pulls me to my feet and steadies me in his arms. I feel faint.

"No. I'm ok," I say.

I'm not totally sure that I'm telling the truth. The curly-haired girl seems to have blood dripping from one of her hands.

Did they stab me with the scissors?

My body hurts all over and my mouth tastes like salt and metal. I think I might be sick.

The girl in the sparkly gold top bursts into tears while the other angels cower in the corner.

Between sobs, she points at me and blubbers "she started it!"

Big mistake.

"Three against one? Seriously?" Felix's voice is so cold it sends a shiver down my spine.

"Get out of my sight," he says. "And make sure you NEVER come to another Fable concert ever again. Consider yourselves banned for life."

"But she bit me," the angel with the curly hair whines, holding out her bloody hand.

I don't remember doing it, but it explains the bad taste in my mouth.

"I'm sure she 'ad good reason ter bite yer," Lyall says, his normally sweet Irish accent now angry, hot and full of fire. "Yer were piled up on top of her. And we all heard de screamin'."

His big brown eyes meet mine, and I feel my heart sink.

This is how I'm meeting my idols.

The angels start whining, pleading with Alastaire to let them stay. He just shakes his head.

The security guard from earlier, Todd, has stepped into the room. He walks towards the cornered girls.

"Before you kick them out Todd, take some mug shots and get their details in case we need to press charges later on," Elliot says.

His voice is calm and reassuring, and he sends me a comforting smile that I'm completely unable to return.

Todd nods and steers the angels out the room.

As their cries and protests fade down the corridor, all attention turns to me.

"Are you ok?" Ben brushes his dark hair out of his eyes and steps towards me.

That's when it hits me.

I'm half-naked.

I look down at the strips of my lacy camisole hanging on by a thread, my bra on full display, my whole midriff exposed.

I wrap my arms around my body but it's too late.

They've seen my scars.

It's over.

Fable has always been my comforting light. An escape. A fantasy.

Now my ugly reality is on the verge of shattering that fairytale illusion.

My last haven.

These two worlds can't collide. I won't let the only pure and perfect thing in my life get stained.

My body works faster than my mind, and before I know it, I've scooped up the contents of my bag and I'm out the door, running down the corridor at full speed.

I can hear the boys calling after me, but I can't stop to think.

I'm sorry Mia. Looks like I won't be able to keep our promise.

All I know is that I need to get away immediately. Away from where they can see me. Away from where anyone can see me.

I pass Todd and the angels, and dash out the exit without a glance back.

I sprint across the Rose Quarter parking lot, out the entrance and along the road.

I run for maybe twenty minutes, over the harbor bridge and into the suburbs. When I can't run anymore, I jog, and when I can't jog anymore, I walk.

Eventually I stop at a park to catch my breath.

I don't want to stop moving, because that would give me time to start thinking about what just happened.

And that might make me regret running away.

But my legs are aching, so I collapse onto a park bench.

As soon as I have my breath back I realize that I've been running basically topless, apart from a few shreds of camisole and my bra.

I don't think I passed all that many people, but I definitely ran past a few cars.

I can't afford to think about that. I can't think about anything. I just need to get home.

I dig around in my bag for my phone.

I have a general idea of where I am, but if I track a route on my GPS I can probably get home faster.

After searching every inch of my bag, it dawns on me.

Oh no.

My phone must have fallen out of my bag when the angels attacked me. It's lying somewhere in that dressing room... along with my guitar in its guitar case.

As I remember about my guitar, I bury my face in my hands.

I can feel the sobs rack my body, and the tears start all over again.

This can't be happening.

That guitar means more to me than anything, and my phone... well, my whole life is on my phone.

But there's no way I can go back there to fetch them.

Not now, anyway.

The boys should be long gone from the dressing room, and probably from the arena itself... but I can't take the chance.

The shame of seeing them again, especially after running away – it's just too much.

I'll have to go back to the Rose Quarter tomorrow and find my stuff in the lost property.

Until then, I can cope without a phone.

By the time I get home, my feet ache from walking. I'm relieved to see that my parents' car isn't parked outside, which means they're still at the restaurant.

The last thing I feel like now is explaining why I'm walking around half-naked at eleven o'clock at night.

The spare key is in its usual spot under the doormat.

I let myself in, drag myself upstairs, crawl into bed, look up at the Fable poster on my ceiling and weep in utter, inconsolable humiliation.

Why do all my dreams turn into nightmares?