Down the Rabbit Hole - Holly Madison

mansion walls, I was Rapunzel locked high away in the penthouse of the Luxor hotel. Criss had
become so controlling that security shadowed my every move—I wasn’t even allowed to go
downstairs to grab a Starbucks in the lobby without a security guard or assistant being ordered to
follow me.
I started to wonder: Was I really any better off than I had been at the mansion?
AFTER OUR TRIP TO Cabo, Criss’s performance schedule started to catch up with him physically. He
no longer had the energy for any of the off-day excursions we used to do—and during his on days, I
had no choice but to adopt his routine. Criss wanted me to be with him 24/7 and he balked when I
asked to go on simple errands by myself. We slept in most of the day, ate Mexican food in bed, and
headed straight backstage two hours before the curtains went up so Criss could begin his preshow
ritual: get an hour-long massage, eat a sandwich, and sit for hair and makeup.
And I thought mansion life got monotonous! Not only was I beyond bored, but my body ached
from lack of exercise and activity.
Fueled by his failing show, recently called “a dog” by Variety, Criss’s treacherous outbursts
became more and more frequent. I spent most days walking on eggshells, hoping to avoid yet another
land mine. My nerves were so frayed that I often felt faint and nauseous, causing female members of
his staff to joke that perhaps I was pregnant.
As I was showering one day, Criss popped his head into the stall. With a false air of casualness,
he said he saw that Bridget was hosting a Valentine’s Day party in town that week and asked me if I
was planning on going. I think he was itching for a fight.
I felt my body weaken and the light start to darken as my eyes rolled towards the back of my
head. Criss swooped me up before my knees could buckle, pulled me out of the shower, and ran over
to place me on his bed. He grabbed his terry cloth robe to lay over me and snatched a leftover
chocolate cookie from Subway that was sitting on his dresser.
“Here, eat this,” he said, tossing it to me from across the room. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” I uttered breathlessly. “I just felt really faint all of a sudden.”
I unwrapped the cookie and took a few bites as he stood over me and watched.
“I didn’t plan on going to Bridget’s party,” I finally said. “I didn’t think you’d want to.”
I was scared to mention Bridget in front of Criss. He had become so controlling, always
demanding to look at my phone and trying to keep me from seeing or speaking to any of my friends.
He seemed to have a major problem with Kendra ever since she announced her plans to marry Hank
at the mansion (which I always thought was a strange choice, considering the Kendra I thought I knew
would probably have preferred a beach wedding). Criss was wild with jealousy at the very thought
that I might attend.
Apparently, that was the right answer, because his spirits immediately brightened.
“No, let’s go to her party!” Criss said, in what had become a rare moment of happiness. I
continued lying in bed for a moment, enjoying my cookie, my boyfriend’s good mood, and the security
in knowing he had just rushed to care for me. I was so relieved to have avoided another major