(The following promo has been translated to English because no hablo Espanol.)

Havana, ooh na-na (ayy)
Half of my heart is in Havana, ooh na-na (ayy, ayy)
He took me back to East Atlanta, na-na-na, ah
Oh, but my heart is in Havana (ayy)
There's somethin' 'bout his manners (uh-huh)
Havana, ooh-na-na (uh)

The serenading sounds of Camila Cabello fill the darkened room, illuminated by a single source. A marvel of man's greatest achievements. All the world's knowledge presented on a brilliant LED screen that, at this moment, is nothing more than a night light. She doesn't even as much as sigh as she stares up at the ceiling from under a weighted blanket and the highest thread count Egyptian sheets she could find. From the neck down she'd built her own personal fortress of solitude. An oasis from the outside world that would only be abandoned for a Doordash delivery or a massive piss.

She hadn't showered for nearly a week. The thought of humanizing herself was a fate worse than death, a vast departure from her previous narcissistic hygiene regiment. Greasy hair fell before her almond brown eyes as she moved to her side, facing away from the call of the bright light calling her. This was no time for solace. Wincing, she came down on her pillow at just the wrong angle, cursing under her own breath as she pulled the blanket up a little farther past her lips, just touching the bottom of her nose. 

The song stopped, bringing her peace in the newfound silence. She closed her eyes. She took a deep breath. She tried to find comfort in her ruined body. 

Havana, ooh na-na (ayy)
Half of my heart is in Havana, ooh na-na (ayy, ayy)
He took me back to East Atlanta, na-na-na, ah
Oh, but my heart is in Havana (ayy)
There's somethin' 'bout his manners (uh-huh)
Havana, ooh-na-na (uh)

Her eyes shot back open in frustration, groaning as she pulled the blankets up over her ears. All she wanted was to be left alone. Left to deal with the aftermath of her failure. Left to sink into the depths of both her car-priced bed and personal despair.

"Oh my Goddddddddddd." She strained, "Leave me alooooooooooone!"

Staring blankly across the room, a sparkle reflected back at her in a nearby closet left slightly open three days ago in a frantic search for definitely expired painkillers from almost exactly a year ago when Jay Harvey broke her finger. Squinting, she tried to make out the shape in the darkness. What was it? An elegant gown from a movie premier? One of nearly two dozen mirrors scattered around the apartment? A camera? Was someone watching her?

Her heart jumped and oxygen escaped her lungs. 

Quickly she sat up, still clinching the blanket to conceal her three-day worn loose cami and boyshorts. This was certainly not the time to be caught be a pervert, or even worse... a keen-eyed paparazzo. Wrapping the blankets around her body, she quickly darted towards the closet. Tripping. Then gracefully rolling across the littered floor, losing all her blankets along the way and jarring her injured face.

"FUCK!" She screamed as she pushed through and jerked the door open.

Looking back at her was a purple sequined mask. An artifact of a past life... and a reminder of the last time she felt as much pain as she did right now.

"IVELISE!" A voice bellowed through her memories, "What does a man have to do to get you to take your craft seriously? Do we just need to start over again?"

"It wasn't my best..." she shrugged in response, "...but I've had worse. I'm going to have good nights and I'm going to have bad nights. I’m learning."

"Every night is a bad night." The response cut through her confidence like a katana. "Your good nights ARE bad nights."

"I don't think that's true..." She responded with a timid smirk, "I... heard some cheers, from a few guys. They were into it."

"They were into your ass hanging out of your trunks. They were really into your tits almost popping out of your top as you stopped at the ropes before tapping them with your shoulder." He replied, "You bring shame to our family."

"First off, they don't even know that I'm your daugh..."

"You bring shame to ANYONE that's ever worn a mask." The voice roared over hers, "Take it off."

"No. I can’t. The first rule of lucha libre is to nev..."

"TAKE IT OFF." The man aggressively lunged forward and ripped the purple sequined mask off of her face. Instinctively she covered her face with her hands in both protection and shame. Her lip quivered as she clenched her jaw.

"Listen. Listen. Papa, I'm getting better every day, it just takes time."

"No more. If this is what I'm going to get then you need to stick to what you're good at." He raised his voice, "Showing your tits and ass for everyone to see. That's what you want wearing that shit out there, isn't it?"

"No. Not necessarily... I think it's prett..."

"Maybe your mother's genetics ARE the only thing you're ever going to be good for. It's bad enough that the world knows my daughter is a whore. I REFUSE to let them learn she has no talent either." He towered over her. She could feel his presence wash over her. "You disgrace this business and this family. Leave."

She froze in fear, staring directly down at the ground. Her long dark brown hair covered her tears as she sniffled. His point towards the exit did little to comfort her.

"NOW."

Taking a few steps back, she turned around and quickly stepped away. Her vision grew blurry as tears distorted her vision. Her breathing became quick and shallow. Every inhale sounded like a gasp, making her heart race, forcing her to ball a fist over her chest.

"And don't come back." The last verbal dagger hit her right between the shoulder blades. "EVER."

Wiping the tears from her eyes, the beautiful almond browns began to focus back on the sequined purple mask before her in the darkness. Taking a long, deep breath, she tried to gather herself. What the fuck was wrong with her? These were feelings she hadn't felt in years. Thoughts that hadn't crossed her mind since she was a teenager. Her heart continued to try to beat its way out of her chest as she reached forward and plunked the mask off of the hook it was attached to.

Wading through the clothes flung about the apartment floor, she made her way back to the bed with purple sequined mask in hand. On the edge of her fortress, she looked down at the mask which stared back at her. With a sigh she said out loud to herself…

"I can’t do it. No one can see me like this." She admitted, "If I can’t be what I’m best at… maybe I can do the next best thing I’m good at."

She tossed the mask across the room, watching as it landed atop a black gucci gear bag by the door.

"Pissing off my family more.”

Havana, ooh-na-na

More Propaganda | View Elise Ares's Biography