Drew Cohen

Drew sat down on the couch in her therapist’s office. They got through the hellos and how are yous before they began talking. “You have done so well, talking about what it was like when you were in the cult.” Her therapist said, writing down a few notes. “You don’t talk about before then, though - when you were being trafficked.” His tone wasn’t harsh, he was trying to get through to her that she needed to explain some of the things that happened when she was younger. The things she tried to forget on a daily basis. “Make yourself comfortable, close your eyes and tell me one of the  memories you have.” He murmured.

Drew closed her eyes and rested her head on the arm of the couch. “Here goes nothing.” She mumbled, taking in a deep breath. “This was the first time I was ever sexually abused.” She noted, taking a deep breath. “I was fourteen, it was my second summer on the road with bands.” She explained, chewing on her lower lip. “I was used to cooking for bands. Doing their laundry, selling their merch. It wasn’t until… that day, I knew this agreement I had with Thomas was not what I thought it was.” She said quietly. “I didn’t know that the band had paid for me. They were the first band to fork over five grand to keep me for a month.” She sighed quietly. “It was a normal day.” Her voice broke slightly, and she cleared her throat. “I had done all the chores on the bus, I was sitting with the drummer - smoking. They gave me a drink, I think it was drugged now - I was dumb then.” She went on. “I drank the whole glass, I felt funny. I thought it was just the alcohol, then I remember waking up and being carried to the back of the bus, where the bed was” She told him. “I thought they were just going to let me sleep it off, I was stoned out of my mind, I thought.” She shifted slightly on the couch, letting her fingernails dig into the couch cushion.

“Go on, Drew -you’re doing so well.” Her therapist said quietly, she could hear him writing on his notebook. “What happened after that?” He questioned.

She coughed out a chuckle and shook her head. “I think you know what happens next.” She muttered.

“Tell me.” He urged, and she exhaled.

“All I remember is waking up to a sharp pain.” She said, nearly silent. “Obviously it was my first time, I was fourteen years old, and here’s this twenty something year old man on top of me,” Her voice broke again. “When I think about it, I can still smell the alcohol on his breath.” She said quietly. “I can feel him petting my hair, telling me I’m such a good girl, telling me that this will be a daily thing while I was on the bus. It turned into hell for me.” She mumbled. “I blacked out again, after that. I truthfully think it was my brain helping me out some.” She told her therapist, before her eyes opened again.

“I woke up after that, I didn’t know how long it had been. Hours, probably.” She shrugged. “I went to get dressed, found my panties torn to shreds, my dress was crumpled up in a corner.” She murmured. “I got up, put my dress on and took the dirty sheets off, they had blood on them.” She explained. “Made the bed, then came out of the little room, to be greeted by Thomas and the drummer. They applauded me.” Tears finally slipped from her eyes. “They said I was such a good girl, that I did so well, they hadn’t had a girl react so well. They told me I was born to fuck men and I was in the right place, the whole band was interested in a taste of me.” She said, nearly in a whimper. “That’s when it all changed. That’s when I became Thomas’ star sex slave.” She laughed, though it held no humor. “I was the perfect slut.”

Before anything else could be said, Drew grabbed her purse. “I’ll see you next week.” She said quietly, wiping her eyes, then she put on sunglasses and stood like she hadn’t just told a horrific story. “Just bill me for the whole hour, I know it hasn’t been that long but it doesn’t matter.” She said, stepping out of the office, closing the door. She exited the building, smiled for the paparazzi like nothing had happened. She was good at hiding what she had been through, maybe that’s what drove her crazy.

I was ten years old and I never should have heard what I heard that night.

I remember it clear as day. It was a Sunday night, it was also summer vacation, the very beginning of it. My sister Cameron and I were set out to go to a summer camp the following morning. Two weeks we’d be gone. The blue hue from my 27” dinosaur panasonic television lit my bedroom. I had tried to decorate the dingy cream colored walls with band posters, magazine art and pictures of me and my friends. It distracted the eye from the fact that my teeny tiny bedroom was so shitty. I was alone for the most part. My sister had gone to stay at a friends house after a disagreement with our mom, she told me the time and place I’d need to be to get picked up for summer camp but aside from that, I could only hear the muffled arguing from my mom’s bedroom. She and her boyfriend were at it again. This was a normal happening for me to hear. Every evening we’d have dinner. Sometimes it was a tv dinner from the freezer or sometimes we’d be treated with McDonalds. Sometimes mom would spend all the money on Benzo’s and we’d have to have our dad give us money so we could walk to the 711 down the street and stock up on cup of noodle. I laid in bed, the fighting only got worse. Not even an hour ago the two were fucking so I wasn’t sure what they’d be fighting about. The walls were thin enough to hear the moans of sex, not not thin enough to know what the topic of the conversation was.

I rolled over in my bed, looking away from the bedroom door as they exited the bedroom. Screaming. To this day I don’t know what actually was happening but I assume it was drugs. Or money, or both. Then I heard a smack, and a yelp come from my mother. Things only got worse, hearing slaps and punches, then I heard a click of a gun clip being unlocked. Then mom’s boyfriend taunting her, saying she didn’t have the balls to shoot him when her ten year old was in the next room. After that I was deafened by the sound of a gunshot, then another and another. I could hear crying, but I stayed in my bed. Knowing if I got up she would just yell at me to go back to sleep. Then her panicked voice spoke quickly but quietly, I think she was talking to her best friend Trixie. Miss. Trixie was  the woman who lived a few doors down. She had a son that was only two or three, I knew that she also had sex for money. Not like it was anything out of the realm of normal for me. Sometimes my mom fucked for money, or for drugs. Sometimes it was to keep the electricity on. Ten minutes after the call, I heard Trixie come into the house.

What I felt next was Trixie laying her son next to me on my bed. I rolled over, acting like I had just been woken up. I think she knew the truth though based on the look of fear in my eyes. “Drew, sweetie? Keep Max in here. He’s sound asleep so he shouldn’t wake up - your mom and I have to run errands.” She said and without question I nodded. I heard them dragging something outside, then they came back in around five minutes later. The splashing of bleach and the sound of scrubbing filled the house. Since my door was partially opened the bleach burned my nose. Then they left, the car started and they were gone for hours. I didn’t sleep, I just waited. For someone or something to come find me. To come and save me. My mother had just murdered a man, and she was covering it up.

“I want you to tell me, what’s the most horrible thing - in your mind, that you have done?” The middle aged man asked and Drew looked down.

“I had a strategically planned meet up for my fans. Most of them are aged 12-17. I said I wanted to spend the day with them in one of the group chats they made for me. I told them to not tweet it out or even tell their parents and I got them all, we spent time together, it was a really fun day.” She explained, her voice breaking. “Then the men from Icxna came a few hours later. They were promised rides to and from our little meeting place, what they didn’t know is when they left they weren’t going home.” She mumbled, her eyes started to water and she grabbed a tissue. “That was my final initiation into the cult. Get a large group of teenage girls into the sex ring, and I did it. I didn’t even question it.”

Now that Drew was out of the cult and starting to have thoughts of her own, she knew how bad this was. Luckily her sister had covered up that crime for her. Drew looked like an angel when she was really a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Well, she used to be that - now she was paying for her sins. Every day she hoped and prayed that those girls got out when Icxna disburse, but she couldn’t be so sure. They could have been sold to the next sex trafficking ring and sadly they probably were.

The therapist nodded. “Do you feel bad about that?” He asked and Drew laughed, though it held no humor. “Of course a fucking feel bad about it. I ruined lives.” She hissed. “I don’t know who that was or who I am, I’m just floating.” She told the doctor. “I don’t know if I’ll ever know who I am.” She said quietly. Frowning. “All of this is bullshit. I did something that deserves a death penalty but I look like a survivor? Bullshit. If I could take it back I would.”

There are around 400 reasons to join Vanity Fair. I might be slightly biased, though so I’ll go through some of the things that should draw you in. One reason is that we are legitimately a family. We laugh together, we cry together - we watch Shane Dawson’s docu-series together and most importantly we come up with amazing storylines together. Creative to the point that I have seen anything like these storylines in years. If you want something dark and twisty there is no doubt in my mind that Vanity Fair is the choice for you. We’re pretty amazing over here in London, we’ll never step on your ideas - thriving is what we love.

This part is a writing task! This week, we’re celebrating our one year anniversary by inviting everyone in the group to Vanity Fair Magazine’s Most Influential People of the Year Reception – which means, your character was nominated. Please write a 200 word article about why your character was influential in the industry this year.  

We’ll start at my birthday, like any good story. March 13th is my favorite day, not even because it’s my birthday - I just have always liked the time where it’s turning to spring. Everything is new, everything is beautiful. I remember being in Rome for that day. Not for pleasure, though. Only a few short days after that I returned to London. The beginning of this year, I didn’t think I’d be here much longer. In London or even alive for that matter. There were two suicide attempts that I had to add to my growing list of the times I’ve tried to take my life.

I fell in love, twice - technically. First time was with a girl, I won’t go into detail but she was murdered. The hit was carried out by people I thought were my family. The cult always took care of me and when I found out they’re the reason my not official girlfriend died - I left. Leaving was not an easy task either. It ended with me facing sexual brutality to the extreme. I’ve got scars from that night that will never go away. I’m not only talking about the brand marks.

Then I met Maverick and things seemed to be looking up. For a long time we were just fuck buddies and with my track record I expected us to end as fuck buddies as well. Now we’re engaged - but I’ll get there.

Things got bad for awhile. Despite an external happiness, I was losing my mind slowly. My life is too fast paced and I hadn’t even coped with being raped until months later, when I was hospitalized for the third time. I was diagnosed with chronic depression, ptsd from the cult and I was having delusions with all of those diagnoses’ mixed together. I was fucking crazy.

After my hospital stay I came home and things seemed normal. I was taking my medication and I still am. Maverick built a house together where we now live and as I write this I’m staring down at my beautiful engagement ring.

Being a kid from Reno, she had never seen snow before. Not in the capacity that it was coming down, with snow already being on the ground as well. Things inside the bus were exciting as always. There was a group of musicians in the middle of the bus, in a smoking circle. The driver of the bus was not sober, in any way and Drew was in the back of the bus with the bassist and another girl, doing what they did best. Things were progressing, then everything was crashing on top of Drew and the other female. She heard glass in the front of the bus shatter, and she looked at the two people she had just been fucking. “Drew go check on everyone! I’ll take care of him.” The girl said, grabbing a shirt, blotting up blood from the corner of the bassist’s eye.

Drew grabbed a fur coat, and put it over her naked figure before walking out of the bunking area. She watched the ground as there were broken bottles and dirty needles. She asked the people in the smoke circle if they were okay, once they all confirmed, she walked to the front of the bus where she saw the broken windshield.The driver was gone. She opened the door to the bus and stepped onto the cold, snowy ground and walked to the front of the bus. She couldn’t see a body but she saw a trail of blood. After composing herself, she ran back into the bus.

Initial Creation of Drew: Tiny Dancer, Elton John

I specifically remember watching the movie Almost Famous in the midst of having a bit of a breakdown with my old character. She was fine, but not right for me. Music has always been something that’s important to me and I don’t really know why I didn’t start with a musician. The scene when they’re all in the tour bus after a huge fight, singing Tiny Dancer, the idea for Drew hit me like a ton of bricks.

Childhood: Sweet Child o’ Mine, Guns N’ Roses

The girl in the song Sweet Child o’ Mine describes who I pictured Drew to be for her mother as a child. The relationship she has with her mother is very toxic really, because as the years have gone on she only sees Drew as an enabler to her drug addiction because who would want their mother on the streets? Because Sienna doesn’t support their mother and many times takes their fathers side, Drew became “the favorite” by proxy when in reality Ellis doesn’t really “love” either of them and uses Drew for the money. Where the Cohen family comes into play, the baby Cohen is slowly starting to realize this. She and Sienna were the products of trying to save a relationship.

Age Twelve/Thirteen: Ride, Lana Del Rey

The music video for this song has always been an inspiration piece for me, with all the characters I’ve had since it’s been out, in some way. In this case, the whole concept of Drew going on tours and living off the kindness of strangers is really how I imagine this whole period of Drew’s life. She’s always been a dreamer with no moral compass pointing in any specific direction and it shows in her time of being in the cult where she was doing horrid things and not knowing it was bad. She’s a very naive character when you break it down.

Sex Trafficking/Cult: Lost Boys and Girls Club, Dum Dum Girls

This song gives off the dreamy like state of mind that I picture Drew to be in when she was being trafficked. Also, that point in her life, she was very lost because of the drugs she was given to keep her from rebelling. The girls that she grew up with are now mostly dead and when she thinks back in this time it seems to only come in flashes of certain things. She was there when they happened but her mind wasn’t, another tactic Icxna used to keep the girls from realizing they were only sex toys.

Becoming Famous: Overnight Sensation, Borns

The title of this song describes Drew’s upbringing into the music world. There are old videos of her on the tour busses singing and playing instruments but that was mainly to cover Icxna’s ass so no one asked questions about where she came from. Drew’s initial fame came to her in a very Illuminati type fashion where they put her songs on the radio as soon as she’d get them recorded. They gave her a “public image” that she needed to hold up. It was all very mechanical and robotic, but in the beginning she was so brainwashed it didn’t seem not normal.

Leaving Icxna: I Don’t Wanna be You, Billie Eilish

When the beginning of 2018 started, Drew went through something that she wasn’t expecting. She had feelings for someone, someone who was killed by the cult she knew and loved. When that happened something switched in her brain. She wasn’t going to be a supporter anymore. She didn’t want to be that girl anymore. The face of Icxna. She hated herself for being that kind of person. She was all alone because of it. She wanted to become the person she was meant to be and is currently working on who that is.

The Summer of 2018: Daddy Issues, The Neighbourhood

After leaving the cult and everything she knew, she spiraled. Drugs, partying and sex. She was a proper mess when it came to her life. She was being reckless and even tried to end it all which obviously didn’t work. The suicidal aspect of Drew is something that isn’t easy, but pushes me to try and understand why she’s trying to end her life, I mean there are the blatant horrible things that have happened to her - but there is something deeper that I’ve not even figured out yet. I’m still learning her.

Meeting Maverick:  Be There, Seafret

When I met Maverick, I was skeptical about relationships, I didn’t believe that anyone could love me because of my past. When he stuck around through the times where Drew was most difficult and continued to love and support her no matter what she said I knew something about him was different. He didn’t tie me down in a way where I couldn’t be creative. I think adding a song for him is important, because she’s grown so much because of him. He’s helped her in ways I didn’t know she’d need helping.

Currently: Baby You’re a Haunted House, Gerard Way

Nov 30. 2017.

The holidays were supposed to be a fun time in anyone who lived in a first world country. Even if you didn’t have to money there were plenty of charities and churches that at least made it okay for the kids. But what about when you had all the money in the world and no one to share it with? Drew Donated to ever charity, and tried to give back to the city of London every year - one year ago, though was the breaking point in Drew’s life. She had always dealt with suicidal tendencies, even when she was a kid. She just didn’t like life sometimes.

A simple ornament held the power to give Drew a flashback to last year, the ornament had been gifted to her by a child at the boys and girls club as a thank you for her donation. Drew remembered the Christmases she had growing up. With her mom, she’d be lucky if she got ten dollars to “get whatever she wanted.” With her dad though, she was given the things she needed and extra, though it was always hard to see him with his new flavor of the week. She grew out of it eventually, she guessed. The holidays weren’t ever that cheerful for her.

*flashback*

Rocking around the Christmas Tree played on repeat on Drew’s Record player, the house was decorated though Drew was nowhere to be found as the EMT’s and Firemen broke thorough her front door. It all seemed to be in slow motion as they broke into the bathroom where she laid on the cold marble floor with the syringe still in her arm. She was pale, and her lips were turning blue from the chilled touch to her body. She was dying, and maybe that’s what she wanted. It would get her out of the cult, and it’s not like anyone cared about what happened to her anyway. Her parents weren’t around, her sister wasn’t there - any friends she had were too busy looking for the next high. She was truthfully all alone in the world.

They wrapped her naked body in sheets and brought her to the hospital, where they monitored her then put her in the psych ward after flushing her body from the heroin. Then, once she was alert enough the questions came.

“How many times have you tried to kill yourself?” 4. “What triggered this attempt.” Loneliness. “Are you on medication.” I’m supposed to be.

They were always the same, the number growing every time she came back. It was her manager who called emergency services, then the cult sent a fruit basket. How fucking pathetic. That’s all they could muster after ruining her life. A fruit basket. It made sense as to why she wanted to kill herself, but no one understood and she didn’t want to explain. She thought that by dying she would somehow better the lives of the people around her. She was like some type of bad omen for destruction in their lives. Better off dead.

“Six albums, a sunglass line, a record label - what’s next Drew?”

That was a question her manager had been asking way too often. Drew was already working on her seventh album and she was busy signing new artists. Was that not enough? What more could people want from her? She was twenty three and had already done more in her life than ten people who had already died. When was it going to be enough? Was she always going to be this busy?

To say that she was complaining about how busy she was in her life, would be accurate - but she was tired. She hadn’t stopped for five years. Cranking out an album every year, sometimes two. Hell, at the beginning of next year she’d have her eighth album. She even took a short hiatus when “girlfriend” Nova Knox was murdered by the cult she was in. God, this year had been nothing short of insane.

“Drew?”

The blonde sighed, as she plopped down in a chair, lighting a cigarette - much to Margot’s dismay. The brunette raised her perfect eyebrow and Drew only laughed.

“Can you not give me a second to fucking think?” She asked, pulling the cigarette from her lips. Her hands came up to the sides of her head as she closed her eyes. She thought of everything she had done, everything that she was doing - then it hit her.

“I’m going to write a book.” She told Margot, bringing the cigarette back between her lips. “My life story, maybe it’ll turn into multiple books, kind of splitting up my life.” She said, and Margot stared at her.

“Okay.” The brunette nodded, Drew could tell that she was mulling it over in her mind.

Drew wondered if she could even tell the story right, so many nights had been drug fueled and a lot of those nights were better off to be forgotten. Some things were too dark, even for Drew who had lived through the things that happened to her and the things she allowed to let happen to her.

“I’m not going to start writing until next year, after the new album is released, but it’ll happen.” Drew murmured, sitting back in the chair, skillfully flicking her cigarette across to the table in front of her, in the ashtray. “You have to give me the time to gather everything that has ever happened to me, and then decide how many books I want to put it in.” She murmured. “Maybe I’ll make it fiction. My story but a character with another name and a cult with another name - just to separate myself from it a little.” She spoke before shaking her head.

“I can’t think of this right now, you’ve got your answer - now let me go to the studio and do my real job.” She muttered, before standing from her chair, grabbing her purse.