(Demi's POV)
Soon after Sierra leaves, I'm still sitting in front of her door, crying my eyes out. I suddenly hear the soft patter of footsteps approaching me.
"Demi?"
Keeping my head down, hair shielding my face, I hastily wipe my moist cheeks.
"What?" I harshly question, my voice cracking.
"What are you doing?" Dallas softly wonders, her feet entering my line of vision.
"I just..."
How do I explain myself without her becoming suspicious?
To my surprise, she lowers to my level and wraps my quivering body into a hug. I don't know why, but I find myself sobbing into her shoulder.
"It's about Wilmer, isn't it?" she questions in the same soft tone, as if she's speaking to a toddler.
I tense up but only for a moment. She must think I'm tensing over the sore subject of my ex, for she rubs my back in what is supposed to be a comforting gesture. I nod in reply to her question.
Look at you, Demetria. Lying to your own sister! What is wrong with you?
I sob harder as my demons continue to attack me.
"He's not worth your tears, Dems."
I can't help but think that she's wrong, although I know that he would never cry over me. I know that I'm not worth his tears. I'm not worth the tears of anybody.
"I'm proud of you," Dallas whispers so quietly that I think I've misheard her. "You've stayed strong through it all, Demi. Even when he cheated on you, shattered your heart, and had the nerve to beg for your forgiveness..." she trails off, shaking her head, her body trembling from anger toward Wilmer. "Even then, you managed to stay strong. I don't think I could've done the same."
Guilt consumes me, swallowing me whole. I'm so stupid, so weak. I was clean for so long, doing so well, and I threw it all away over a guy who never loved me in the first place.
"Sierra already left for school," I mumble, desperate for a subject change. "She said she wanted to walk."
Dallas releases me, sending a wave of bitter coldness slamming into my body. I involuntarily shiver. Dallas offers me a hand in which I take. She yanks me to my feet as I try not to think about how much pain I must be causing her for having to pull my fat self up from the floor.
"Have you eaten breakfast yet?" she wonders.
I nod, following her into the dining room.
"Then what's this?" she questions, eyeing the abandoned bowl of cereal that I tried to force Sierra to eat.
"That's my second bowl," I easily lie. "I thought I was hungrier than I actually was."
Dallas nods with lingering suspicion in her eyes. She dumps the cereal down the garbage disposal and flips the switch.
"Can I, uh, can I take Maddie to school today?" I shyly ask once the loud grinding of the garbage disposal ceases.
"Sure, Dems," Dallas replies in a slightly astonished tone. "She'd love that."
I nod, guilt consuming me for not being as close to my little sister as I used to be.
Why can't I do anything right?
"I'll go wake her up," I mumble.
I head upstairs to Maddie's room and push the slightly ajar door open the rest of the way. I smile at the sight of my sleeping sister. I'm so stupid for pushing her away lately because of my petty problems. She doesn't deserve to have such a mental nutcase for a sister.
I quietly make my way over to her and gently shake her.
"Mads, it's time to wake up for school."
"Dems?" she groggily mumbles.
"Yeah, babygirl. Come on and get up. I'm taking you to school today."
"Really?"
"Yeah," I smile, ignoring the immense guilt that I feel.
"Why?" she wonders, untangling herself from her many blankets.
"Can't I do something nice for my little sister without a reason?"
"If you really wanted to do something nice for your little sister, you'd let her skip school."
I laugh a genuine laugh for once.
"Nice try, but no."
"It was worth a shot," she mutters.
Maddie goes downstairs for breakfast while I head to my room to get ready for the day.
I enter my bathroom and make the mistake of looking at my reflection in the mirror. Everything about me is ugly. My puffy eyes and splotchy red cheeks only emphasize how grotesque I am. I strip out of my clothes and continue to critique every flaw of mine. I squeeze the fat on my abdomen, wishing that it would all just disappear, wishing that I could just slice it all off with a knife.
I turn the water on for a shower and grab my razor blade. In the shower, I release all of my pent-up emotions in the form of tears and self-harm. I don't bother to keep track of how many cuts I make. I only stop when I realize that the water has turned cold. Muttering a string of curse words under my breath, I quickly wash my hair and body, ignoring the stinging from my cuts that bring both pain and pleasure. I make sure that my cuts have stopped bleeding before I shut the water off and step out of the tub, wrapping a large towel around my body and using another towel to wrap my hair up into a turban.
I peek out of my bathroom door, making sure that nobody is in my room. Seeing that the coast is clear, I walk over and lock my bedroom door, then enter my closet. I decide to wear a white tee-shirt and blue jeans with brown high-heeled boots and a brown leather jacket. I complete the outfit with a wide brown belt, earrings, a stack of coordinating brown bracelets, sunglasses, and a matching purse.
I run a brush through my hair and apply some makeup before checking to see if Maddie's ready. I find her in the living room, watching television.
"I didn't take too long, did I?" I warily question.
To my relief, she shakes her head. She turns off the television and rises to her feet.
"Bye, Dallas!" I call, not caring if I wake up my parents.
I snatch my car keys from the counter as Maddie grabs her backpack.
"Ready?" I ask her.
"Yep," she replies.
I smile at her. It's then that I realize how much I've missed my little sister. The guilt I felt earlier threatens to resurface, causing my smile to become forced.
"Let's get you to school before you're late," I tell her, leading us to my car.
****
After dropping Maddie off at school, I decide that I'm not quite ready to return home yet. It's just too awkward and tense there, all because of me. Instead, I drive out of the city, toward the wooded mountains.
I park my car in a driveway leading to a cabin. I purchased the cabin a little while before my relapse. Nobody knows about it. It's like my little getaway place that I can retreat to whenever things become too stressful or overbearing or whenever I just need to relax for a minute or two. I came here the night before I got accused of being a drunken whore by my own sister.
I unlock the door and enter the silent abode, kicking the door shut behind me with my foot and tossing my keys onto the coffee table. I enter the small room that I use as a writing area. Taking a seat at the desk, I fish my phone from my purse and set a reminder for when I have to pick Maddie and Sierra up from school.
On the desk lie many sheets of paper, a pen, and the letter that I started writing that night before I slapped Dallas. I honestly don't know what provoked me to write the letter. As much as I hate to admit it, I think one day the letter may become useful, which is proof that my disease has gotten worse. Even before rehab, I never even imagined writing one of these, but now here I am holding a half-written note in my hands.
Annoyed with myself, I ball the letter up and toss it into the nearby garbage can. It bounces off of the rim and falls to the floor. Even if it had been a successful shot, the paper wouldn't have been able to enter the trash can because of the many versions and drafts of the same letter that I've previously written filling it to the top.
I firmly grip the pen in my hand, positioning it over a clean sheet of paper. I begin to write another version of the same letter, letting my demons fuel the words that I write.
A while later, I sit at the desk, admiring my work while sipping bottled water. The letter doesn't even put a dent in showing people the pain that I've been hiding, but it's a start. My phone chimes, reminding me that I have to pick up Maddie and Sierra from school. With a sigh, I toss the letter into the garbage, grab my purse, return my bottle of water to the fridge, and exit the cabin, locking the door behind me.
****
"Hey, babygirl," I chirp as Maddie climbs into the passenger seat of my car. "Where's Sierra?"
"I honestly don't know. Rumor has it that she skipped with Analisha Castle."
Why would Sierra skip? Was it something I did? I can't help but feel as if I'm at fault. Maybe if I hadn't yelled at her or tried to force her to eat... God only knows what she could be doing right now.
"Demi, are you okay?" Maddie questions, yanking me from my thoughts.
I nod with a fake smile on my face before pulling out of the car lane.
"So, tell me more about this Analisha girl," I casually order as we approach a red light.
"She's nothing special. I mean, she's popular and rich, but she's not a snobby bitch like the stereotypes presume."
I roll my eyes and chuckle at my sister's choice of language. What can I say? She has learned from the best.
"Do you know where Analisha lives?" I ask.
"You're not seriously thinking about going over there, are you? I mean, for all you know Sierra might not even be there," Maddie tries to reason.
I roll my eyes again.
"You're too smart for your own good, Madison. Can you just tell me where she lives?" I practically beg, starting to get fed up with Sierra's annoying games.
"1311 Cedar Pine Lane," Maddie gives in with an eye roll of her own. "It's a huge mansion; you can't miss it."
"Thanks, babygirl," I say gratefully as we pull into our driveway.
"Just try not to do anything stupid," she pleads before hoisting her backpack onto her shoulder and exiting the car.
I make sure she's safely in the house, regardless of whether or not somebody's home, before typing Analisha's address into my GPS with no hesitation whatsoever.
****
I drive up the long driveway, admiring the view of the house as I go. Maddie sure wasn't kidding when she said it was a mansion.
I park my car just outside the garage doors. It's then that I start doubting my choices. What if Sierra's not even here? What if she is, but I'm just overreacting? Why do I even care where she is in the first place?
That last question makes me wonder. Although I've acted like a bitch to Sierra, I honestly have nothing against her. Whenever I'm bitchy to her, or to anybody, for that matter, it's just me releasing my inner pain. I yell, and I scream, and I act like a stuck-up, know-it-all bitch because, deep down, I'm scared. I'm scared of being sent back to treatment. I'm scared of everybody judging me. I'm scared of never being loved. I'm just scared, and I plan to let Sierra know that.
With newfound determination, I exit my car and hurry to the front door. I ring the doorbell and wait for somebody to answer the door. A girl with curly brown hair and green eyes opens the door.
"You're here for Sierra, right?" is the first thing that escapes from her mouth.
"Yeah," I hesitantly reply, taken aback by her bluntness.
"You do know that she's not gonna be too happy to see you, right?"
"Yes," I answer through a clenched jaw.
With an arched eyebrow, she steps to the side, holding the door open so that I'm able to enter. I hear the door shut behind me.
"Where's Sierra?" I question.
"She's in my room. Follow me."
I let the girl lead me up the grand staircase and through the corridors upstairs until we stop in front of a slightly ajar door.
"Can you wait out here?" I ask her.
She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest with a huff. I refrain from striking her cheek. Instead, I push the door open further to find Sierra sitting cross-legged on a large bed, lime green Beats by Dr. Dre covering her ears. Her eyes are closed, and her head bobs slightly. I walk up to her and yank the headphones off of her ears.
"Hey!" she exclaims, looking up at me. "What the hell is wrong with you, Demi?"
"Me? What the hell is wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with you, skipping school to hang out with your friends?" I counter.
She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.
"Just forget it. Come on. We're going home," I tell her, gripping her arm, but she quickly snatches it away.
"No, Demi, I'm not going home with you. I don't want to go anywhere near your family, especially you. Just leave me the hell alone," Sierra spits.
I arch an eyebrow at her, hoping that my expression doesn't show how wounded I am by her words.
"Mom and Dad are worried sick about you," I lie.
I honestly don't know if they even realize she's not there. Maybe Maddie told them?
"So are Maddie and Dallas," I add as an afterthought.
Sierra snorts.
"You just love lying to people, don't you, Demi? Do you get a rush out of it or something? I mean, I knew you were a manipulative bitch, but I didn't know it was this bad."
"And what about you? You're such a hypocrite, Sierra, and-"
"And you're not?" she screeches, rising to her feet. "You preach everyday about how important it is to stay strong and to talk about your feelings and to ask for help when, in reality, you're just as broken as the rest of us. You're lying to your fans, your family, and your friends yet you show no remorse whatsoever. How can you live with yourself? How can you sleep at night knowing that you're the root of the pain that surrounds your family? How can you sleep at night knowing that people around the globe look up to you as a strong, genuine, honest role model when you're everything but?"
I watch as angry tears roll down both of her cheeks. I want to comfort her, to be the best big sister I can be. I blink my rapidly blurring vision.
"Can you please just come with me so that I can explain?" I whisper, defeat evident in my tone. "I'm tired of fighting, Sierra. And not only that..." my voice cracks as a tear falls, but I continue. "And not only that, but I'm so sick and tired of being sick and tired. I know you feel the same way, so please, just give me a chance to make everything right," I plead, the tears now flowing freely.
I hold out my slightly shaking hand, willing her to take it. I almost shout with joy when she does. I enclose her hand with mine, giving it what I hope is a reassuring squeeze. With my free hand, I wipe her tears and do the same for myself. We exit the room, hands still linked.
"I'll explain later, Analisha," Sierra reassures as the girl looks at us with a stunned expression.
"Thank you, Analisha," I say politely, adding a smile before retreating down the stairs.
****
The car ride is silent. When we stop at a red light, I can see Sierra looking down, nervously fiddling with her thumbs.
"It's okay to talk," I smile, hoping to lighten the mood.
To my relief, she offers me a small smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace. I mentally sigh when she returns her gaze to her lap, but I remind myself that we have to take baby steps.
The ride goes back to being silent. Not even the usual hum of the radio is audible. It is only when I purposefully miss the turn to go home that Sierra decides to speak.
"Demi, where are we going?" she wonders in a bewildered tone.
"A little place that I like to call my second home," I vaguely reply. "You trust me, right?" I ask, eyeing her wary expression through my peripheral vision. "Wait, don't answer that."
She giggles, but doesn't comment.
"Yes, Demi," she says about ten minutes later.
"Huh?" I ask, confused.
She giggles for the second time this evening.
"Yes, Demi, I trust you," she reassures me, to my complete astonishment.
I've been a completely hateful, vile bitch to her, and she still trusts me?
"You're something else, Sierra," I voice my thoughts. "And there's nothing wrong with that."
ns 18.68.41.179da2
