"Are you going to propose?" I ask for what feels like the hundredth time that evening.
Nick sighs, clicking the turn signal on as we search everywhere for Demi. "If I answer, will
you stop asking me and actually focus on finding your mom?"
I frown at the harshness of his tone, knowing that I shouldn't be taking it personally but not being able to help it. Biting my lower lip, I lean against the window, watching as rain drops splatter and slide down the chilled glass.
He makes it sound as if I'm not even worried about her.
Of course I'm worried about her, although I won't admit it aloud.
But I'm sure she's fine. She has to be.
She just needed space, time to think. I dropped a major bombshell on her, and she's probably struggling to come to terms with it. That's all.
If that is the case, though, why do I feel as if I'm trying to reassure myself?
Nick's phone rings for the third time since we've gotten in the car an hour ago. I sigh when I see that it's just Dallas calling again; nevertheless, I answer the call, putting her on speaker.
"Anything?" She asks, sounding breathless.
"Not yet."
"Maddie, Sara, and I just searched all of the parks."
Nick sighs again, clenching the steering wheel tighter. "How about we all meet at my house and form a plan? Maybe call some more people to help search?"
"See you there."
Ending the phone call, I glance warily at Nick. "You know that she's going to be okay, right?" I whisper.
"She's probably already back at home, wondering where we're at," Jordan adds from the backseat, the slight waver in her tone the only sign that she isn't completely confident in her reassurances.
"She would have called," he mutters under his breath, not intending for either of us to hear, but I know that his words ring true, and the fact only causes my stomach to uneasily flip.
~
By the time we reach the house, I'm still irrationally pissed at Nick and frustrated that we still have yet to hear from Demi. As Nick talks with Dallas, I storm past Maddie, Sara, and Jordan and lock myself in my room.
Collapsing onto my bed, I finally allow hot, angry tears to spill down my cheeks.
Why can't I just keep my mouth shut? Why must I insist on making everyone else around me miserable?
If I hadn't badgered Nick about the ring, he wouldn't see me as such a nuisance.
If I hadn't shared my pathetic sob story, Demi would still be here, and we wouldn't all be worried sick and frantic about finding her.
If I hadn't insisted on meeting Demi that one day, their lives wouldn't have changed so drastically, and all of the wrongs that I have made, all of the situations that I have worsened, all of the people that I have indirectly affected, would never have happened.
As I'm continuing my mental list of what has gone wrong because of me, I hear a soft knock on my door. When I don't respond, the person enters, but I continue to stare blankly at my ceiling.
"Everyone's worried about you," Sara says, hesitantly walking into my room.
I snort. "They sure have an odd way of showing it," I pause, "What are you doing in here?"
"When I said everyone, I meant everyone."
"You don't know me well enough to be worried about me."
"How about you stop telling me what I'm feeling?" Although I can't see her, I can hear the smile in her voice, and I can feel her approaching my bedside.
"Maybe I'm just trying to be logical."
"If you were trying to be logical, you would realize that Demi leaving is not your fault."
"Maybe I'm just trying to be not logical."
She sighs. "Look at me." I refuse. "Look at me, Bailey, please." When I refuse yet again, she emits another soft sigh and mutters under her breath.
"Are you cursing me out?" I wonder, still not looking at her.
"No," she laughs. "I try not to swear excessively like someone I know."
I jokingly roll my eyes, knowing that she's talking about me.
"Are you going to look at me now?"
"Nope," I pop the "p".
"Fine. But don't say that I didn't warn you."
I furrow my eyebrows in confusion before squealing when she climbs onto my bed and
places one knee on either side of me.
"Aw!" She coos, pinching each of my cheeks, which causes me to swat her hands away from my face. "I didn't think that you would squeal!" She smirks triumphantly. "Might I add that it was a pretty adorable sound."
"No, you may not add that."
She pouts. "Cute?"
"No."
"Cuddly?"
I quirk an eyebrow. "A cuddly sound?"
"Loveable?"
"No."
"Sweet?"
I glare at her, and she laughs.
"But, Bailey, you are sweet and-" She yelps as I twist my body, causing her to land on the floor, "-and you're also rude."
"I can't be both."
"You have your moments." She looks up at me. "Aren't you going to help me up?"
"Why? Just so you can pull me down? No way."
"I promise that I won't." she reaches a hand out, and I sigh, gripping onto her hand, only to have her pull me down on top of her.
"Ow!" I hiss as our foreheads collide.
"Not my brightest plan ever," she mutters, kneading her forehead with the tips of her fingers.
"You think? Gosh, you are such a liar."
"Hey! Maybe you're just gullible!"
"What did I miss?" A new voice interjects, and I turn towards the doorway where Jordan stands.
"A head-on collision." I rise to my feet. "Literally."
"Well, I see that you're feeling better," she observes.
"Yeah," I mumble, despite the demons in my head still screaming; they never leave, not for long anyways.
"Nick wants us all downstairs, on a phone, trying to call mom," Jordan informs, and Sara and I both nod before following her towards the stairs.
I stop when I remember something.
"I'll meet you two down there." They turn around to look at me with confused expressions. "Bathroom," I explain, forcing a tight smile, and they nod, telling me to meet them downstairs when I'm done.
Exhaling heavily, I lock myself in Jordan's bathroom, knowing that she has razors that weren't confiscated by Demi (I think that she took all of mine sometime when I was asleep. I wouldn't exactly hold it past her). I manage to easily retrieve the blades from one of her razors, and I lift the hem of my shirt just barely. When I see how much my cuts have healed since Demi, Nick, and Jordan found out, I'm conflicted by wanting to feel proud of myself and wanting nothing more than to reopen old wounds. My mind is nothing more than a dizzying battlefield of back and forth. With a blade positioned over an old scar on my abdomen, I debate with myself, with both sides of myself. Do I throw away my progress, or do I continue to fight? If I give in now, would that make the fight later down the road more difficult?
"Bailey!" I jump, startled, at Nick's booming voice and sudden pounding on the other side of the door, and my blade skitters across the floor. "Bailey, please open the door." Despite the fact that he can't see me, I shake my head before he can even finish his sentence.
He twists the doorknob, cursing when he realizes that I've locked the door. I grab the blade.
"Bailey, I know what you're doing," his tone is much softer now, exhausted. "You're worth more than that, darling."
"I'm not," I whisper, positioning the blade over my abdomen again. "It's all my fault."
"Nothing's your fault, Bailey."
I've never hesitated like this before when harming myself, so why am I doing so now? Is it because Nick's on the other side of the door? Is it because I've finally gotten a taste of recovery?
"Why don't you just pick the lock?" I hear Dallas question.
"I-I want her to make her own decision."
"Nick, that is the dumbest thing-"
"Please," I cry, not caring how pathetic I seem at the moment; all I know is that there is no way I can fight my own mind alone right now and expect to win. "Pick the lock." I become more frantic as the doorknob jiggles more violently. "Pick the lock!"
Nick scoops me up as if I weigh nothing, and I cling to him, hiding my tear-streaked face in his shoulder. He places me on Jordan's bed and walks towards Dallas. As he's talking too softly to her for me to be able to hear, I tangle my fingers in my hair and pull until fresh tears are blurring my vision. Dallas enters the bathroom, and I tug harder, knowing that she's getting rid of the blades. Jordan and Sara must still be downstairs.
"Darling, stop," Nick tries to remove my fingers from my hair, but I scream and fight against him. "Bailey, stop!" He grips my forearms, pushing me onto the bed so that I'm flat on my back.
I allow my fight to turn feeble as my breathing begins to speed up, but he's too preoccupied trying to detangle my fingers from my hair to notice.
"Nick." From the corner of my eye, I can see Dallas approach the foot of the bed.
"What?" He frowns as he tries to undo a major tangle, and I wince.
My breathing continues to speed up, and I know that I'm on the verge of having a panic attack. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip as my flashbacks become more vivid, soon tasting the metallic tinge of my own blood.
He wasn't expecting for my adoptive parents to come home early.
He wasn't even finished with me yet when my mom walked in.
Yet she still took his side.
Still believed his lies.
All because I wasn't their flesh and blood.
At eleven, I was labeled as a pathological liar.
Because I told the truth.
"Nick, seriously, get off of her!" Dallas screeches, and Nick curses before backing away from me.
I curl into a ball, digging my fingers into the comforter until I feel like my fingertips are bleeding.
"Bailey, breathe." Dallas places her hand on my back, but I cringe away from her touch.
A heaving sound escapes me as I struggle to breathe, and I cough, spluttering on my next words. "I want my mom," my voice is hoarse, "I want Demi."
"Nick!" I hear Maddie shout from downstairs, followed by the running of footsteps. "I know that you wanted me to stay downstairs with Sara and Jordan, but-" she glances at me as she walks towards Nick. "-Demi's calling." Her words bring me relief, and I watch as she hands Nick his phone.
"Demi, where the hell are you?" He snaps, then puts the phone on speaker.
Maddie goes to stand in the doorway with Sara and Jordan.
"Is Bailey with you?" She sounds breathless.
Nick glances at me. "No."
She breathes a sigh of relief. "Good."
"Good? Demi, we have all been worried sick-"
"I found out who her adoptive uncle was."
I slowly uncurl myself and sit up, disbelief rendering me numb and speechless.
There's no way that she knows.
"He's Wilmer's attorney, Nick."
Shit!
Nick glances at me again, his expression now unreadable. "You're sure?"
"Since when do you doubt me?"
"But he's an attorney."
"I know. He changed his name and everything."
Nick worries at his bottom lip, appearing to be deep in thought; he then sighs. "Just come back home, and then we'll sort everything out, okay?"
There's a pause, and her next words are soft-spoken. "You know that I didn't mean to scare everyone, right? I turned my phone off and-"
"It's okay, Dems. You're safe. That's all that matters."
"Alright," she sighs. "I love you, and I'll be home-"
"You're Demi Lovato, yes?" A familiar voice asks from her end of the line.
"Yes," she slowly responds, as if confused, but her next statement is full of conviction. "You're Wilmer's attorney. Mason, right?"
I stare, wide-eyed, at Nick. This cannot be happening.
Matthew, or, Mason chuckles. "I am."
"Should you really be talking to me without my attorney present?" She sounds oddly calm, even a bit sassy - acting perks, I assume.
"I can, if it's not pertaining to our case."
"Then what is this conversation pertaining to?"
There's sudden shuffling on her line of the phone, followed by a yelp, a soft thud, and more shuffling.
Then all is quiet.
Tears sting the back of my eyes, and I can't help but notice just how much I've been crying today. My bottom lip trembles as I struggle to hold back my tears.
"I know you're there, Hailey," His voice causes my stomach to twist. "Don't play dumb now."
I remain silent, my heart beating painfully against my rib cage. "Fine. What if I said that I have a gun in one hand," his tone is so nonchalant, "and, in my other hand, a knife pressed against your mother's pretty little neck."
Ignoring Dallas' pleading facial expressions and arms from Sara, Maddie, and Jordan trying to hold me back, I lunge for the phone, snatching it out of Nick's hand.
"If you hurt her, Matthew, I swear I will kill you myself."
He chuckles. "What reason would I have to be scared of a, what, fourteen-year-old? You hate feeling helpless, Hailey. You hated it then, and you sure as hell hate it now, don't you?" I clench the phone tighter. "What if I said that your mother could be your collateral?"
"Collateral for what?" I say through clenched teeth.
"Well," he drawls out the last two letters of the word so casually, "When you were removed from the custody of your adoptive parents, I still had many games that I wanted to play with you. Although I wasn't able to play those games with you, your mother-"
"If you touch her, I will make damn sure that the police will never be able to find your body." Although my body is shaking from rage and God only knows how many pent up emotions, my voice doesn't waver.
He chuckles again. "Make another threat, Hailey. It's amusing."
"I will see to it that you rot in Hell, Matthew."
A sudden, sharp shriek can be heard, and I instantly recognize it as Demi.
"Whoops," he doesn't sound the least bit apologetic, not that I expect him to, "knife slipped." I place a hand over my mouth to keep a sob from escaping. "I have quite the butter fingers. Don't worry, Hailey, she's breathing," he pauses, his next words more of a mutter, "For now at least."
"What do you want, Matthew?" My voice can't help but tremble this time as I think about Demi possibly bleeding to death with that asshole standing over her, watching her bleed and getting some sick satisfaction from it.
"You're like a pawn in my game, Hailey."
"That didn't answer my question."
"Maybe I just enjoy making you suffer. Speaking of which, Nick Jonas," I can see Nick's body tense, "I have good news for you, and I have bad news for you. Care to hear those in a particular order?" Nick's nostrils flare, and I can tell he wants nothing more than to beat the shit out of Matthew; if it's killing me to sit back and feel so helpless, this must be unbearable for him. "I guess not. I'll give you the good news first." Matthew clears his throat, as if about to give some kind of speech, "While you were running around town, frantically searching for your inamorata, a judge made a verdict. I really shouldn't be telling you this yet, but I think some good news would be well-favored, don't you?" Again, Nick doesn't speak. "Demi and Wilmer's divorce was finalized earlier today."
"And the bad news?" Nick wonders, seeming to be not even fazed by the news presented to him.
Matthew laughs, and I notice that Nick clenches his fists. "Such a shame that you won't be able to celebrate the good news with her." I can practically hear the smirk in Matthew's tone.
A pop sound is heard, and I swear that the scent of gunpowder is seeping through the speaker of Nick's phone.
A dial tone mocks us, and, if I try hard enough, it almost sounds like Matthew's laugh.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
