6:01AM
MESSAGE FROM:
"UNKNOWN"

UNKOWN
Are you awake?
You should be.
It's happening today.

Willow
What are you talking about
Literally idk what you even mean
I haven't done anything

UNKNOWN
That's what you think.

6:03AM
MESSAGE FROM
"R. Paddington"

R. Paddington
Willow
At your house
Open your fucken door

Willow
I'm not there

R. Paddington
You're still out?
Did you drink?
Willow where are you??
I have Elphaba
Don't want her to die
waiting out here

Willow
Ur lying
Suki wouldn't let you

R. Paddington
Cross my heart
Open the door

Willow groaned, walking over to her apartment door and opening it for her best friend.

"What?" She asked flatly, raising her eyebrows a fraction.

"Good morning, love," he said softly, handing over a small cage. "Obviously couldn't bring the whole terrarium, but I think the little bugger's exactly what you need right now."

"Hm," Willow frowned, tugging the cage into her arms. She peaked inside, smiling down at her little lizard. "Hey, Elpha," she greeted quietly. "I missed you."

"Yes, yes," Robert rolled his eyes. "It's all very cute. D'ya mind letting me in? I didn't fly third class all the way from London for 8 hours last night just to stand out on your porch."

Willow looked up at him sheepishly. "I can't let you in."

"What? Why the hell not? Is the place on fire? Let me in, Will."

"I have someone over."

Surprise flickered across his face. "Pedro? I didn't expect him to grow a pair so fast but good for you—"

"—Not—not Pedro."

"Who?" He watched her for a moment before a stern look settled on his features. "No, Willow don't — oh, you complete buffoon. I'm coming in."

He shoved past her gently, careful not to move the cage too much, and walked straight past the open living room and to the right where the hallway to the bedrooms were.

Willow shut the front door and rushed after him, settling Elpheba on a counter.

"Robert!" She whisper-called after him. "Robert, cut it — no, don't—"

Robert opened the door to her bedroom with a cold smile. "Well, well, well. If it isn't my absolute least favorite person on the planet. Get out of her bed, you muppet, you're not staying here."

"What the fuck?" James' voice was low, he'd just woken up. Anxiety stretched Willow thin from the inside out, pulling and tugging at every strap of reason.

"Robert," she pulled him back from entering the room. "Just—just let him sleep here. Okay? It's fine."

Robert glanced from her to James, scoffing, before noticing something on the nightstand.

"Spirytus? Fuck, Willow, this shit's terrible for you."

"Good thing no one gives a shit about your opinion," James grunted, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Willow, get me a water."

Willow nodded immediately, rushing off to the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water. She hurried back, not wanting to leave the pair along very long. After their breakup — and even before then, honestly — Robert despised James and called him "a good for nothing, low-life, light-sucking monster who's entire purpose is to make everyone else's lives terrible."

"Here," She breathed out, brushing past Robert and handing the water to James.

James nodded in thanks, grabbing her waist and tugging her close to him. He kept his arm wound tightly around her, and she tried to deflate, not stiffen at Robert's face.

"This is making me physically ill. Forget the alcohol, this is far worse than a fucking hangover."

"Robert—"

"—You know what, mate?" James jabbed, his arm tightening around Willow like a snake to its prey. "No one asked you to be here. I'm here. I'm taking care of Willow. Think I know what's best for her."

"Yeah, that's absolute tosh," he shook his head. "Lucky for you, I'm not currently doing anything. Haven't got a single project. In fact, my entire schedule now revolves around our Willow. And I'm going to ensure that you do what's best for her. If you don't," Robert smiled coldly. "I'll ruin your life."

James scoffed. "I'm not scared of you."

"I didn't ask you to be. Just telling you how it is. C'mon, Will, let's get you ready for your Vogue photoshoot. That's still happening today, isn't it?"

Willow hesitated, glancing at James who shook his head a fraction. "No, I—I cancelled it."

"Hmm, that's weird. Why?"

Robert's gaze found James' smug expression and his eyes narrowed. They all knew exactly why.

"She feels sick. Don't you, Willow?"

Willow nodded. "Yeah, very."

"Fine then," Robert shrugged. "I'll make breakfast. And don't worry about setting up another room, I still have clothes in the spare from last time."

"Last time?" James asked flatly. "He's stayed more than once?"

"Yeah." Willow nodded. "He usually stays for a month every year."

"Well, that's gonna change," James muttered. Willow tried to put on a smile, feeling sick to her stomach.

Why couldn't she fight back? Why couldn't she defend Robert and kick James out of her house? He didn't love her, not really. Deep down, she knew that.

But she liked pretending that he loved her. That he was looking out for her; had her best interests at heart. It was easier than acknowledging the fact that she was completely alone.

Robert left the room a minute later and James pulled Willow down on his lap.

He had morning breath and his lips were cold against her shoulders, coarse, rough, like sandstorms against her skin.

Nothing like the warm sunshine Pedro left in his kiss.

"What do you say we take the day, huh? I have a party we can go to, they've got a couple lines if we just say the word..."

Willow bit her lip, tempted by his words. She wanted to forget everything, to let herself go. It felt good the night before. To pretend that she didn't exist in this world, that she was just a random nobody.

Her phone lit up, reading the group chat she has with her Supernatural co-stars. She reached for it but James tugged her hand back.

"I think maybe you should leave that group chat, it's not healthy for you."

As if a rubber band snapped her back into place, Willow shook her head, wiggling herself from James' grip.

"No, no, James. Those are my friends, family even. I'm not going to stop talking to them. I think—I think you should go."

James' expression hardened. "Fine," he said lowly, standing quickly. Before she could say another word, his hand was on her wrist, gripping it tightly. "But know that I'm doing what's best for you. Not Robert, not your friends, not Pedro," he spat his name out like it physically pained him. "Don't forget that, gummy bear."

Willow nodded, taking his words in. She wanted to make him stay, wanted to clutch his hand and tell him never to leave her again. But something within her told her not to, told her to let him go.

"I'll see you around?" She asked quietly, hopefully.

"Maybe. If I'm not busy."

Without another word, he left the room and she heard voices, then the front door shutting a minute later.

—

WILLOW SANDLER: MURDERER?
By: Harriet Goldinski

Laws are to upheld by every citizen; even celebrities. We often put famous people on pedestals, claiming they're better than us, or more talented, or deserve more.

Oftentimes, we forgo our own suspicion and remember a film the celebrity acted in and let the celebrity off with a warning.

This was no different in the case of Willow Sandler.

Her story is one that many admire, trust, even. She grew up dotted on by her famous father, Adam Sandler, who promises humor and kindness to everyone that encounters him. Her mother, though lacking in fame, more than made up for it with her daughter's work.

Many blame Hollywood for the downfall of child stars, and the addictions that followed them.

But when will we start placing blame on the adult they grow to be?

"I knew Dominik Fields," an anonymous source tells us. "He was Willow's agent and he would've done anything for her."

Anything for her. Does this sound like a healthy relationship for an agent and their client to have?

"He shouldn't have died that night," friend of Fields continues. "He was only there because her mother called him. She was high and drunk and trying to drive. Willow hit him. She killed my best friend."

Though Willow was intoxicated at the time, records don't show her driving. (This could be left out of public records and the LAPD have refused to comment on the matter.)

Even still, her intoxication and addiction led to her own negligence, which got both her mother and agent killed. As the only one alive with barely a few cuts and scrapes — is it fair to call her entirely innocent?

Is it not kind to provide the truth and let justice take claim?

"I'm going to bring her down," source claims. "I'm getting my lawyers and I'm going to take her down. She shouldn't be walking free right now and she sure as hell shouldn't be filming shows and getting into relationships. She stole Dominik's life from him, I want to make sure she pays."

Willow stared down at her phone in shock. She felt a hand touch her shoulder but couldn't make the effort to look up.

She knew it was coming; the texts said as much. But to have her name smeared across article after article for a crime she didn't even commit?

"It's not your fault," Robert said gently. "This will go away. Everyone knows it's not your fault."

As if mocking her, she received a notification from Twitter that her name was the second trending. #CancelWillowSandler

She took a shaky breath and Robert guided her to a chair in the dining room.

"Willow, stop looking at it," he told he'd as she scrolled endlessly through her name.

Tears gathered in her eyes and she couldn't hold them back when her phone began blowing up with texts from those she loved.

"I don't—I don't want to look," she managed through her sobs, handing her phone to Robert.

"It's okay," he took it gently, turning it off and setting it on the table. "Hey." He pulled her to him, her head resting on his chest. He ran a hand through her hair, letting her cry.

"It's alright, love," he promised, pressing a gentle kiss to her head. "I'm right here. You're okay."

—

Pedro sighed, looking over the article on his phone. He wondered who hated Willow that much — who the mysterious source was.

There were too many of them, now. From the multiple during their relationship to this one claiming to ruin her life...he wondered if any of them were real, or if they were separate people at all.

He opened Willow's contact name, which he'd fondly changed to "Mi Corazón💞👹" barely a few months into their "relationship."

He debated what to text her, what to tell her. He wanted to tell her he was sorry this happened, that he was there if she needed him. He wanted to tell her he loved her still, whether it was true or not.

(Though he heartedly believed it to be false information made up to cause a stir against a popular female celebrity.)

He wanted to take the subway over and see her, give her a hug and hold her gently. He wanted to kiss her head and tell her it would be okay. That he'd be there the whole time.

He typed out a paragraph of how much he adored her and how desperately he wanted to be with her. He spoke of how much she meant to him and how he'd make sure nothing bad happened to her ever again.

But he deleted it.

MESSAGE SENT.

—
hehe okay so hopefully this is okay. Everything will slowly come together just wait guys. Thank you SO MUCH for 10K views and 400+ votes, that's mind-boggling to me. I don't have half that for some of my stories that have been up for years and this has only been up for 13 days. I'm so grateful and happy you guys love this as much as I do. Believe me, we have a TON left.