(Sierra's POV)
"I thought Demi hated your guts," I recall, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
"I could say the same to you."
"With me, it's just Demi being Demi. You, my friend, are loathed by her."
"I know," he says, clenching the steering wheel.
"What did you do exactly?"
"Why am I having this discussion with a child?"
I roll my eyes.
"Because I know more than you think. You cheated on her, right?"
He grips the steering wheel even tighter.
I smirk. This should be fun.
"Let me guess. You probably had some chick over. I'm assuming this chick was blonde because what guy doesn't like a blonde? She was probably sickly thin, which triggered Demi's insecurities. To top it off, you were in the middle of fucking her or something. Am I right?"
He stays silent.
"Correct me if I'm wrong," I taunt.
He sighs, frustrated.
"Red," he mumbles.
"Huh?"
"She wasn't blonde; her hair was red."
"At least you're honest," I pause before continuing. "Did you enjoy hurting Demi? I mean, couldn't you have just dumped her?"
"You think I wanted to hurt her?" he questions, sounding both pained and appalled.
"Well, let's review, shall we? You fucked somebody that wasn't your girlfriend, you fucked somebody that wasn't your girlfriend, and you fucked somebody that wasn't your girlfriend," I state, ticking each one off on a finger. "Did you ever tell the girl that you had a girlfriend? Or did you ever just say no to her?"
He glares at me as we stop at a red light, and I grin innocently at him. He shakes his head, stepping on the gas pedal as the light turns green.
"And don't even try that whole 'I have needs' shit," I say with a disgusted shake of my head. "That's just a load of bull that a coward uses."
"Where do you come up with this stuff?"
"One of my foster moms loved talk shows: Dr. Phil, Bill Cunningham, Steve Wilkos, et cetera. I might've picked up a few things."
"Might've?" he echoes with a snort.
"Hey! You're the one who needs to be taking notes."
He doesn't respond, and we soon arrive at a tall, black gate.
"Fancy," I murmur.
I hear a faint beeping noise as he types away at an electronic keypad wired to the gate. With a slight squeaky groan, the gates open up.
"Nice place," I observe as he drives us up the driveway.
He parks in the garage, pressing a button inside the car to close the garage door behind us. He steps out of the car, making no visible effort to open my door for me.
"Rude much?" I scoff, stepping out of the vehicle after opening my own door. "I hope you opened doors for Demi."
"You're not Demi," he smirks.
"Oh, trust me, I know. If I was Demi, I would've already kicked your ass and served it on a silver platter in a dish known as humiliation with a side of ego deflation and, for dessert, a helping of regret," I growl.
"For such a tiny person, you sure have a lot of pent-up anger," he chuckles.
I glare at him, resisting the urge to correct him on his 'tiny person' comment. I'm as fat as a whale. I'm nowhere near 'tiny'.
I trail behind him as we walk through a door leading into the basement. When we reach the main floor, he heads into the living room, me still following. I loudly sigh, plopping down onto the couch and resting my feet atop his coffee table.
He raises an eyebrow at my actions.
"I'm pretty sure I never told you to make yourself at home."
"And I'm pretty sure nobody told you to shatter Demi's heart, but you still did that anyway," I crisply retort.
He sighs heavily, claiming the seat beside me on the couch.
"Did you call to inform her that you found me?"
"Shit," he mutters, dragging his hands down his face.
I smirk.
"I almost feel a little bad for you, but then I remember how you made Demi feel like shit, and that sympathy disappears."
He shoots me a glare, and I stick my tongue out at him.
"In all honestly, I'd call her for you..."
His expression turns suddenly hopeful.
"But..."
His hopeful expression falls.
"I kind of want you two to reconcile."
I laugh at his agape jaw and bewildered expression.
"Don't look so surprised," I chuckle.
"Why do you, of all people, want that? So far, you haven't gone five minutes without mentioning how I broke Demi's heart."
"Although that is true, believe it or not, you two were nearly perfect for each other... ignoring the fact that you cheated." I reply, adding the last part with just a hint of sarcasm.
He rolls his eyes.
"She still loves you," I quietly tell him, no sarcasm evident in my tone.
He snorts and shakes his head.
"Why would she still love me? I've been such a gilipollas to her."
"Although that's true..." I trail off as I notice him staring at me with an unreadable expression. "What?" I snap.
"You know Spanish?"
"Nope," I respond. "I just know some of the curse words. You called yourself an asshole, right?"
"Yeah."
"There's no denying that you are one, but, for some idiotic reason, Demi is still in love with you, even if she isn't willing to admit it to herself. Now, I suggest you call her because I'm sure you don't want me living here, right?"
He fishes his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. I almost smirk when I realize that I can clearly hear the ringing noise as he waits for Demi to answer. I'll be able to hear both ends of the conversation.
"Hello?"
My eyes involuntarily widen as I hear Demi's voice. She sounds scared and panicked. Certainly, she doesn't sound that way because of me, right?
"Hermosa?"
"What do you want, Wilmer?" she spits.
I'm surprised that she's even giving him the chance to explain why he's calling.
"I found Sierra."
"Where is she?" Demi wonders, relief evident in her tone.
Why does she care?
"Here, at my house," he explains.
There's a lengthy pause, and I fear that Demi's ended the call.
"I'll be over in a few," she sighs.
He removes the phone from his ear without saying good-bye.
"She'll be here soon," he informs.
"In that case, I'll be waiting upstairs," I say, rising to my feet.
"Wait, why?"
"Like I said, I want you two to reconcile," I wink before heading for the stairs.
I'm waiting in the upstairs bathroom, hovering around a floor vent. I should be able to hear everything that happens. Finally, I hear the doorbell ring.
"Demi-"
"Where's Sierra?"
I wince at her harsh tone. Maybe this idea of mine wasn't so great after all.
"She's in the bathroom."
I hear Demi's heeled boots clicking across the floor.
"Look I'm-"
"Save it," she coldly interrupts.
"Damn, Demi," I mutter, shaking my head; at least give the guy a chance to explain.
"I never stopped loving you," Wilmer blurts out.
I gasp, feeling as if I'm listening to one of those stupid soap operas on television.
Demi lets out a bitter laugh.
"You stopped loving me the day you cheated on me."
"That's not true, and I know damn well that you haven't stopped loving me either."
"Trust me, I've stopped," she lies.
"That's not what Sierra told me."
I cringe, cursing him for bringing me into this.
"She's twelve years old! She probably doesn't even know what love is!"
I scoff, feeling slightly offended.
"Look me in my eyes and tell me that you don't love me, that you no longer have feelings for me."
There's a long pause before Demi finally responds.
"I can't," she cries.
"Why?"
"Because I-I-"
"Say it, Demi."
"I-I still love you, and I-I never stopped loving you."
I resist the urge to squeal.
I frown when I don't hear any more talking. Confused, I slowly creep out of the bathroom and am about to return downstairs when I stop dead in my tracks. I bite my lower lip to suppress my gasp of surprise as I see Wilmer and Demi making out. I mean, like, her being pressed against the wall, tongue hockey kind of making out. It's kind of disgusting but sweet at the same time.
"Yes!" I screech, pumping my fist into the air as I realize that my mission is now accomplished.
My celebration is short-lived, however, for I realize that they both are staring straight at me. I flash a sheepish smile. Demi glares at me.
"I'm guessing you're still pissed off at me, right?" I voice my thoughts.
Her glare only intensifies. "You had me worried sick."
I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. "How so?"
"Because you ran off, and I had no idea where you were!" she cries, now in hysterics.
"Why do you act like you care about me?" I question, my voice eerily calm.
"You're my sister, Sierra! Believe it or not, you've been there for me a hell of a lot more than most people recently. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I knew that I was the reason that something happened to you."
I shuffle my feet as guilt churns within me. How could I have been so stupid, so selfish?
"I'm sorry," I mumble.
To my surprise, she bounds up the flight of stairs and engulfs me in a tight hug. I tense up slightly when I realize that she's lost even more weight. I awkwardly return the hug, ignoring how bony she is. When she releases me, I stare thoughtfully into her watery eyes, contemplating on whether or not I should ask the question here.
"Demi, when was the last time you ate?" I quietly ask.
Her body visibly stiffens, her expression now void of emotion.
"What is she talking about, Demi?" Wilmer hesitantly questions.
"Nothing," Demi lies, turning around to face him with a fake smile. "Nothing at all. Let's go, Sierra."
She walks down the stairs, and I obediently follow behind her. As we reach the front door, I take a deep breath, mustering up every ounce of my courage.
I forcibly grab a hold of Demi's wrist, spinning her around and dragging her away from the door. Her pain-filled screams cause my chest to ache, but I don't loosen my grip until she's standing in front of Wilmer with me behind her, blocking the door.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Sierra?" she yells, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Lift up your sleeves," I sternly command.
She bows her head slightly but makes no move to listen to me. Rolling my eyes, I advance towards her and lift up one of her sleeves, her resisting not having much effect. I do the same with the other sleeve, pulling them both up to her elbows as she fidgets and squirms. Some of her cuts are extremely fresh, bleeding slightly from the pressure I put on them. Cuts and scars litter her skin, ranging in size and direction.
"Where else?" I harshly question, knowing that Wilmer is too stunned to speak.
She blinks as more tears fall.
"Where. Else." I repeat, my demanding tone causing her to flinch.
She remains silent.
"On your stomach?"
She nods.
"Your hips?"
Another nod.
"Outer or inner thighs?"
"Both," she mumbles.
I blink rapidly, fighting back my own tears.
"Why?" I question, my voice cracking. "And tell me the whole truth this time."
Her gaze remains on the floor, her head bowed and shoulders hunched. Even her posture screams broken. I swallow the thickness of more tears.
"I kept telling myself that I was fine," she whispers. She then raises her head to face Wilmer, her cheeks tear-stained. "I kept telling myself that I didn't need you. I didn't realize how much I actually leaned on you and depended on you for my recovery. I relapsed about two weeks after I found you with that other girl. I told myself that I deserved it, that I deserved to be cheated on because nobody wants a fat, worthless, attention-seeking girlfriend. I told myself that it was my fault, that I drove you away. I reminded myself that I've fucked up every relationship I've ever been in. All of that combined with the usual hate I was getting from the media just sent me over the edge, I guess," she explains with a fake smile.
I direct my gaze to the floor, unable to look at her forced, broken smile. A tear slides down my cheek, but I hastily wipe it away. When I manage to return my gaze to Demi, I see Wilmer engulfing her in a tight hug, her shoulders shaking with silent violent sobs as he keeps mumbling 'I'm sorry' over and over again. I return my gaze to the floor.
"When was the last time you ate, Dems, and managed to keep it down?" he questions, causing me to raise my head again.
"I don't remember," she mumbles, watching as she shifts her feet nervously.
He nods thoughtfully.
"What do you two want to eat?" he questions, heading towards the kitchen.
"I'm not hungry," Demi and I reply in unison.
He whirls back around, gazing at both of us, me more curiously than Demi.
"Both of you should know better than to try that lie on me," he chimes before turning once again to the kitchen. "Now, what do you two want to eat?" he repeats, opening the refrigerator door.
I glance at Demi. Her fear-filled expression probably mimics mine.
"Uh, how about a s-salad?" I nervously stutter.
"It's progress at least," Wilmer says before rummaging through his fridge.
Demi and I take a seat across from each other at the table. I bounce my knee, nerves forming knots in the pit of my stomach.
Wilmer dishes out bowls of salad to us. If I wasn't so scared, I'd smile at the fact that he didn't pour any dressing on it or add any other fattening substances. I shovel the vegetables around with my fork as Demi does the same.
"I can't do it," Demi cries.
I stand up, sliding my bowl along the table and taking a seat beside Demi as Wilmer claims the seat on the other side of her. I clench my fork tightly in my right hand as I grasp Demi's right hand with my left.
"We're fighting this together, Dems," I quietly state. "If you fight, I'll fight right alongside you."
I stab some pieces of lettuce with my fork.
"Please, Demi?" I quietly beg.
With an exhale, she hesitantly spears a few pieces of lettuce with her fork as well. We both chew slowly, grimacing slightly. My grip tightens on Demi's hand as hers does the same on mine.
"Now, I want you two to keep the food down," Wilmer instructs, piling many blankets and pillows onto a large mattress that is set on the floor in the living room.
He's going to sleep on the couch while Demi and I sleep on the mattress in front of the television. Demi texted her mom a while ago saying that we wouldn't be home until tomorrow. I asked her about school, and she said that I can just skip. I'm certainly not complaining about that. Ignoring the voices of my demons, I snuggle up to Demi on the mattress. She wraps her arms around me, pulling me closer to her.
"I love you, Sierra," she whispers, surprising me.
"I love you, too, Demi," I mumble, letting sleep silence my demons.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
