💔 She Stayed Silent for Decades – Now Sheila E. Reveals the DARK TRUTH About Prince, Fame & Her Devastating Past 😢🔥

Sheila E. may have lit up the stage with hits like “The Glamorous Life”, but behind that dazzling exterior was a woman silently suffering.

In a heartbreaking new reflection, she confirms what fans have long feared: her journey to stardom was paved with pain, manipulation, and lifelong wounds that even music couldn’t heal.

Her story begins in Oakland, California, in a household bursting with music and little else.

Her father, famed percussionist Pete Escovedo, filled their modest home with the sounds of Tito Puente and Eddie Palmieri, but couldn’t shield her from the horrors that unfolded behind closed doors.

Sheila was just five years old when she was sexually abused by a babysitter—a trauma compounded when older cousins later violated her again.

She told no one until she was in her thirties.

The emotional damage haunted her as she rose to fame.

Even before meeting Prince, Sheila E. was a force.

By 1984, her debut album The Glamorous Life had cemented her as a rising star.

But when she began collaborating with Prince, the dynamic changed everything—musically and emotionally.

Their chemistry was undeniable, both onstage and off.

They became lovers, collaborators, and, at one point, nearly husband and wife.

But the romance wasn’t as glamorous as the headlines suggested.

Sheila describes a controlling relationship that slowly eroded her voice and autonomy.

She recalls bleeding hands and swollen limbs from grueling performances, soaking her fingers in Epsom salt and slamming them against walls just to go numb enough to play again.

“My hands were bleeding after every show,” she wrote.

“At night, I’d have to soak the open sores.

The next day, I’d slap them against the wall until they went numb.”

Prince, the musical genius, was also obsessively exacting.

He molded her sound, pushed her into a hyper-sexualized image she wasn’t comfortable with, and limited her artistic freedom.

Even when he proposed—silently mouthing “Marry me” during a concert—Sheila didn’t say yes.

“I don’t know why,” she admits.

Perhaps it was his wandering eye, or the fact that she never wanted to share the man she loved.

Prince had other women in his life, and Sheila, raised on the example of her parents’ six-decade-long marriage, couldn’t stomach the idea of being just one of many.

Their romantic breakup marked the beginning of Sheila’s slow unraveling.

Fame, once a dream, became a nightmare.

She admits to letting it go to her head—shouting at bandmates, issuing orders, and forgetting the value of teamwork.

On one European tour, half her band threatened to quit.

“I started acting like a boss,” she confesses.

“Fame makes you forget how to treat people.

” The consequences were both professional and physical.

Sheila developed serious health issues.

Years of drumming in high heels caused permanent damage.

She lost the ability to walk in 1990, her legs failing her after years of twisting her body unnaturally on stage setups designed more for show than sustainability.

It took four months just to walk around the block again—and over a year to wear heels.

But the betrayal didn’t end there.

Sheila’s involvement in the iconic We Are the World session in 1985 seemed like a dream—until she realized she was being used.

Quincy Jones and Lionel Richie invited her to lure Prince into joining the project.

They didn’t want her voice; they wanted her influence.

She never got her solo line, and Prince never showed.

“I thought they were my friends,” she said.

“But they used me.

That’s cold.

” Prince even offered to play a guitar solo, but Lionel rejected the idea.

When Prince backed out, his part was handed to Huey Lewis.

Sheila, humiliated, left the session heartbroken.

Years later, in 2018, when rumors swirled that Justin Timberlake might use a Prince hologram at the Super Bowl, Sheila E.

jumped in to protect his legacy.

Prince had been clear: he didn’t want to be resurrected as a digital illusion.

Sheila took to Twitter, quoting Prince’s own words: “Don’t let anyone do a hologram of me.

” Her swift action led to a direct call from Timberlake’s team, and ultimately, the hologram idea was scrapped.

“I felt it was okay to speak up,” she said.

“Prince wouldn’t have wanted it.”

Despite his health-conscious image, Prince’s death in 2016 exposed another tragedy.

While Sheila never saw him take so much as a Tylenol, he was secretly battling opioid addiction.

After canceling a concert due to illness, he collapsed mid-flight days later.

Doctors used Narcan to revive him—revealing the first public sign of his hidden battle with painkillers.

Just days later, before he could meet with an addiction specialist, Prince died at Paisley Park from an accidental fentanyl overdose.

The world was shocked.

Sheila was devastated.

“I couldn’t believe it,” she said.

“He never even let us know he was in pain.”

Sheila E.

continued performing, but her body kept betraying her.

A twisted ankle, damaged Achilles tendon, and chronic back pain forced her to rethink her relationship with the stage.

She admits she’s in pain “half the time,” and yet she keeps going—driven by the same love of music that once brought her to her knees.

Through it all, she has tried to maintain her dignity, even when attacked by former Prince protégé Apollonia, who accused her of exploiting his name.

Sheila refused to engage, saying simply, “I have nothing bad to say.

I still love her.”

Today, Sheila E. is more than a musician—she’s a survivor.

Her story is a raw, unfiltered look at what it costs to live The Glamorous Life.

Fame brought her applause, but also agony.

Love brought inspiration, but also heartbreak.

And behind the glitz, there were bruises—both physical and emotional—that fans never saw.

At 67, she’s still standing.

Still drumming.

Still fighting.

And finally, telling the truth.