The real plagiarist
Chapter 1
After I announced my retirement from the
music scene, everyone practically threw a
party.
Everyone except my boyfriend’s rumored
flame, the up–and–coming singer–songwriter,
Chelsea Reed.
She put on this whole dramatic act for the
reporters.
“Oh, it’s all a misunderstanding! Ashley,
you’re an irreplaceable talent in the music
world, and I desperately hope she
reconsiders!”
I just turned off my phone, totally ignoring her
<
Last time around, my song was a carbon copy
of hers.
The internet exploded, calling me a copycat and wishing death on my entire family.
I tried to fight back, posting my songwriting process, but it didn’t matter because her song was released just ten minutes earlier.
Ten minutes!
And for those ten minutes, the internet sent
me funeral wreaths, photoshopped my picture
onto “Rest in Peace” posters, and some
psycho even threw paint on my house.
Years of that online hate gave me depression.
My parents spent everything they had trying
to clear my name, but some crazed fans set
their house on fire and killed them.
Finally, on the day Chelsea won an award for “her” song, I jumped off a building.
And then I woke up, back on the day my song
was supposed to drop.
“Your new single goes live at noon today!”
“Don’t stress, you’re a lock for Songwriter of
the Year at the Grammys with this one!”
My manager, Jen, patted me on the shoulder,
and I gasped for air, like waking up from a
nightmare.
Looking at my familiar living room and Jen’s confused face, I realized I’d been given a
second chance.
“You’ve been burning the candle at both ends
writing this song, so I’m not booking you any
gigs for a few days. Get some rest.”
“Wait!”
I stopped Jen at the door, my eyes glued to
the clock on the wall.
Tick–tock, tick–tock.
As the minute hand approached ten, I opened
my phone and went to Chelsea’s Twitter.
Just like before, she’d posted a link to a
music streaming site, with the caption: “My
original single, ‘Broken Clock,‘ is waiting for
you to listen.”
I clicked the link, and her voice spilled from
the phone.
“What the hell? That’s your song!”
Jen snatched my phone.
“The melody, the lyrics – it’s all the same!
This is your song, Ashley. How did Chelsea
release it first?”
“Maybe someone at the recording studio
leaked it. Hang on, I’ll get someone to
investigate!”
I grabbed Jen’s arm.
“Tell the company to cancel my song
release.”
In my past life, releasing a song that was
identical to Chelsea’s got me labeled a
copycat.
I tried to prove my innocence by sharing my
writing process, but nobody cared.
“Just admit you stole it!”
“Trying to make yourself look innocent is
pathetic, how desperate can you be?”
“Copycat DIE! I hope Chelsea sues you to
oblivion!”
My manager, Jen, and the recording studio
producer vouched for me but they were
ripped apart online.
Then my actor boyfriend, Brad, went live.
In the live stream, Brad publicly declared his
love for Chelsea, and heavily criticized my
plagiarism!
I was heartbroken!
I had played him my new single way before,
and he backstabbed his girlfriend to protect
Chelsea!
His fans turned on me, flooding my social
media with hate.
Singers and actors who had worked with me
acted like I had the plague, and were eager to
distance themselves from me.
If they didn’t publicly shame me, they were
attacked by his fans.
They got what they wanted.
I was blacklisted by the industry, kicked out
of the Songwriters Association, and even had
my awards revoked.
My label dropped me under the pressure.
From then on, every time Chelsea released a
song, I was dragged through the mud.
People sent me funeral wreaths,
photoshopped my face onto death posters,
and some psycho even threw paint on my
house.
I became depressed because of all the years
of online hate.
My parents spent their life savings trying to
clear my name, but they were burned alive in
their house by crazed fans.
The day Chelsea won a Grammy for “her”
original song, I jumped off a building.
Now, I’ve been given a second chance.
This time, I’m going to find out what the hell
is going on.
“The company invested a ton of money in this
single. I can’t just tell them we’re canceling it.
I have to explain!”
“Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll check into the leak. In
the meantime, get writing on another song.”
After Jen left, I sat on the couch and thought
things through.
Chelsea was my actor boyfriend, Brad’s,
childhood best friend.
They’d grown up together and were always
close.
Chelsea went to music school and then
moved to LA.
After Chelsea graduated, Brad got her into
the industry.
With Brad backing her up, she signed with the
biggest record label in the US, Summit
Entertainment.
From then on, she did music for big movies.
That’s something I didn’t have as his
girlfriend.
I always caused a scene because he was too
nice to her.
Brad said that taking care of Chelsea was a
promise to his family.
I just had to deal with it.
I should have known that she was the one
that got away.
I went on Chelsea’s Twitter, trying to find any
clues.