Take A Risk

19 year old, Eleanor Cowell, is up for another year of the X-Factor. Her father, Simon Cowell, one of the judges, has her help every year, but he doesn't know just how much she'd rather stay at home and distance herself from the people on the show. Is it because of her past experiences with the show? Will this specific year be different? Will, not only her life change, but herself?


1. Chapter 1

   "Welcome back to the X-Factor ladies and gentlemen! Are you ready to find out who your winner is? Of course you are! Your X-Factor winner, is-"
"Eleanor! Rise and shine sweetheart." I groan, knowing it's my dad right outside my door, waking me up for yet another year of the X-Factor full of dreamers who all think they're better than everyone else. When in actuality, they're not. Everyone is equal, except they have a talent bigger than the average person. Big whoop. Half of those dreams will have their dreams thrown back in their face and will be asked to leave X-Factor. Me? I'm not into the whole X-Factor thing, (Can't you tell?) even if my dad is Simon Cowell, one of the judges. Can I tell him that? No, course not. So, here I am, dragging myself out of my wonderful bed to get ready for a day that is going to kick my bum later.

I walk into the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror. Okay, Eleanor. Make yourself look decent. I decide to go for the whole, "I want to be here look". I brush my light, golden, brunette hair out, letting it settle in it's natural waves, flowing it freely over my shoulders. Hair? Check. I then dab on some medium toned, cherry lip gloss. (My favorite, by the way. Found in the Ulta near you.) I quickly put on some deep black mascara making my hazel eyes pop. I'm not the one who goes all out on makeup. I like the natural look. I then walk back into my room and open the closet door, skimming my hand gently across the rack of clothes, determining what to wear. I settle for a dark, red tank top and dark blue skinny jeans. I grab a small, silver heart necklace and put it on, clipping it around my neck. I bore over the look of all my heels and wedges in the corner of my closet. They scream aching feet. I decide against them, going for my red Toms, a must do- I yelp as someone's arms wrap around me, lifting me up and carrying me all the way downstairs. My brother.
"You take forever to get ready, Ellie. Thought I'd help by giving you a lift downstairs." he states.
I roll my eyes as he sets me back on my feet. 
"I'm perfectly capable of walking down the stairs, thanks."
"Not after what happened yesterday," he said "you still have that bump on your head."
He goes to touch it, but I smack his hand away.
"Don't touch it!" I yell.
He opens his mouth to say something when my dad walks into the room, clasping his hands together, making a popping noise and saying, "Are we ready?"
I mentally shake my head. I can already hear the hopeful voices.


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