Hey guys! I had the sudden urge to write a Hannah Montana fic. But this is going to be dark. Like, real dark. Well, at least I HOPE it'll turn out that way.

Disclaimer- I no own Hannah Montana. But it would be totally hot to see Mitchel Musso on a leash. sigh

Rated M- For self-destruction and… other stuff I don't know yet. Okay.

Mix it all together…

Oh yeah…

I bent my knees and pressed my headphones tighter against my ears. I was at the point where the music took control of me.

It's so much better

'Cause you know that it's the best of both worlds.

I waited for the last two hits of the drums before smiling straight into the camera. I looked through the recording room glass. Dad was reclined the chair behind all of the controls. I gave him a thumbs up as the lanky camera guys packed up and left the room.

"That was brilliant, sweetheart." He pressed one of the buttons on the controls. "Keep at it."

I pulled off my headphones and found my way out of the room. Dad was talking with my publicist, Ms. Daye about my newest album. "…all I'm saying is, maybe we should put a picture of her as a child on the cover… oh! How about the one where you're sitting on the swing… that would be so sweet." She grabbed my face.

"Yeah, but that was so embarrassing." I winced, thinking back to my childhood. "And besides, I look like Miley in those pictures. Not Hannah Montana." I shook my head.

The one frustrating thing about Ms. Daye is that she's so friggin' headstrong. She'll never take no as an answer, even if it means blowing my cover as Hannah Montana. "There's nothing that Photoshop can't fix." She excitedly clapped her hands together. "So… is it a deal?"

"Sorry, Penny," Dad pulled his cowboy hat over his head. "No deal. We've got to get going." He put his hand on my shoulder. "Photo shoot. Five AM." He shook his head.

We left the recording studio, stepping into the night. "Gotta love Ms. Daye, right Dad?" I elbowed him as we got into his SUV. He shook his head.

"Miley, let it go." He peeled out of the empty parking lot. "She's too… cheery for me. And she's as busy as ever with your new album." He explained. "Just don't interfere."

"Who's interfering? I'm not interfering." I put my hands up in surrender. "I'm just trying to let what's supposed to happen, happen. And that's you and Ms. Daye…"

"Don't even finish that sentence." Dad looked away from the road to turn on the radio, blaring some ridiculous country song.

Sometimes, I hate having to do everything myself. But this… this was going to happen for sure. I swear on Hannah Montana's wig.

Okay, this was a filly chapter. But please read and review! Please!