(Sierra's POV)
"I thought I told you never to call me again!" Demi screams loudly enough that I can hear her all the way in the living room.
I'm assuming that she's on the phone because I hear no reply.
"I'm sick of hearing your apologies!"
I squeeze my eyes shut tighter and cover both ears with my pillow.
"Don't try to turn this situation around and make me the bad guy!"
With an annoyed huff, I toss back my pillow and blanket and trudge out of my bed. I storm into the living room, but Demi doesn't notice, for her back is turned to me.
"You are such an asshole! I honestly have no idea how the hell we lasted so long."
I can faintly hear a noise coming from her phone.
"You don't think I miss what we had?" she quietly questions in a wounded tone.
Sniffling, she removes her phone from her ear and turns it off. With an ear-shattering scream, she suddenly throws her phone at the nearby wall. It shatters and cascades to the carpet.
Sobs continue to wrack through her body as she turns to face me. I freeze like a deer in a pair of headlights. She rolls her eyes.
"Why are you up?" she questions in between tears and sniffles.
"Kind of hard to sleep when you're yelling," I reply, my tone emotionless.
She bitterly chuckles.
"I honestly have no idea what my family saw in you. Why would they want an emo freak for a daughter?"
I know she's just saying that out of spite; I know she doesn't mean it and will totally regret it later, but I can't help but feel a deep ache in my bones at her words. Granted, I did act like a bitch to her yesterday, but my words couldn't have hurt her as much as her words are hurting me, right?
"They want you, don't they?" I spit back at her, unable to hold in my frustration.
Demi's body tenses, but she doesn't bother to comment.
Guilt and regret gnaw at my soul, but I make no move to apologize.
"At least I'm not a disappointment," I continue to attack.
"You sure about that?"
No.
"I'm positive," I lie in what I hope is a convincing tone.
She walks past me, retreating up the stairs. Halfway up, she peers at me over her shoulder.
"Maybe you should do us all a favor by just leaving. Nobody wants a burden like you here, anyway," she advises, continuing to walk up the stairs like nothing happened.
"Look who's up," Dallas coos upon walking through the front door, oblivious to everything that previously happened.
"Where are Dianna, Eddie, and Maddie?" I ask.
"Maddie's out with Bea. She would've asked you to tag along, but you were asleep. Mom and Dad went out somewhere... How's Demi?" she explains, adding the last part as an afterthought.
"Moody, as always," I vaguely respond.
I yearn to ask Dallas a question that's been bothering me since that day we went to the mall. I hesitate, contemplating my next words.
"Dallas, does Demi have a boyfriend?"
I can see her visibly tense, much like Demi did earlier.
"Why do you ask?" she inquires in a nonchalant tone.
Again, I hesitate. Do I tell her the truth, or do I lie?
With a heavy exhale of breath, I choose the former.
"Sh-she was yelling at somebody on her phone this morning. It just sounded like a boyfriend or somebody of the equivalence."
Dallas looks as if she wants to spill her guts.
"What's wrong, Dallas?"
"Nothing," she quickly reassures.
She seems to space out for a moment, and I watch her curiously until she speaks again.
"It's not my story to tell," she whispers, not expecting me to hear her. "I'm gonna go check on her," she adds a little more loudly.
"I know that she's famous," I blurt out.
She turns to look at me, her eyes wide and guilty. When she doesn't say anything, I continue to ramble.
"I-I Googled her. I know everything."
"Everything?" she questions in an incredulous and cautious tone.
I nod in reply.
"Then shouldn't you know if she has a boyfriend or not?" she quizzes while walking towards me.
"I know that she used to date Joe Jonas and has been on and off again with Wilmer Valderrama since 2010."
She stops, obviously taken aback by my thorough evaluation, but soon regains her composure.
"Let's just say that they're off again," she vaguely discloses, turning on her heel and ascending the stairs.
After she disappears into Demi's room, I clean up Demi's broken phone and then return to my bedroom. With a sigh, I sit on my bed thinking about my already way too eventful morning.
"Great, Sierra, now you've pissed both of the Lovato sisters off."
I try to ignore the snickering voices of my demons.
You can't ignore us, Sierra. Demi's right, you know.
I do know, but I won't admit it.
You're nothing but a huge burden. And I'm not using the word huge metaphorically. All you do is take up space.
"Shut up," I mutter, clenching the bed sheet in my fists.
Look around, Sierra. You're a disappointment to everyone around you. Nobody loves you. Hell, nobody even likes you. But you can redeem yourself.
My knuckles are the color of snow.
All you have to do is cut and maybe even purge. It'll make you feel better, Sierra. You won't be worthless if you're skinny.
I can feel tears leaking from my eyes, but I don't bother to wipe them away.
You know you want to, Sierra.
I jump up from my bed and pace around my bedroom. I want to scream. I've discovered that screaming is the only way to silence the voices, but I can't scream when Dallas and Demi are right upstairs.
All you have to do is cut, then we'll be quiet.
I eye the bathroom but quickly banish the idea. I do not want a repeat of yesterday.
You sure?
In a haste to silence my inner demons, I grab my phone and hit the shuffle button on my music. The song is unfamiliar to me, but any type of noise is enough to make my head stop spinning. I crank the volume up to the maximum limit.
"This is a story that I've never told. I gotta get this off my chest to let it go. I need to take back the light inside you stole. You're a criminal, and you steal like you're a pro." I glance down at the screen and realize that this is one of Demi's songs."All the pain and the truth, I wear like a battle wound. So ashamed, so confused, I was broken and bruised.."
I don't know when I started crying throughout the song, but now it's over and I'm sitting on my bed bawling my eyes out. I see a shadow cast across my room, and I raise my head to find Dallas and Demi watching from the doorway.
"What?" I spit.
"That's my song," Demi states.
"No shit."
"Sierra," Dallas scolds.
I can feel my anger level rising, but I don't know why. I honestly think I'm angry at myself more so than at them.
"No, Dallas! Don't you dare to tell me what is right and what is wrong. You have no right to do so, and don't think for one minute that you know me because you don't!" I scream.
"Sierra, I wasn't-"
"Just leave," I coldly order. "Both of you," I add, eyeing Demi.
With glassy eyes, Dallas turns and leaves, but Demi remains. I roll my eyes.
"Are you deaf or just stupid?" I harshly question.
She swallows, probably trying to hold back a smart comment or her own or tears or maybe both. I know I'm acting like a total bitch, but I can't help it. I'm pissed off at them, at the world, but most importantly, I'm pissed off at myself for letting my disease get this bad.
"Talk to me, Sierra," Demi pleads.
"About what?" I wonder, resisting another eye roll.
"Anything. Everything. What are you thinking about right at this moment?"
I wipe my moist cheeks. What am I thinking about? I resist a snort.
"Honestly?"
"Honestly," she confirms.
I'm thinking about cutting myself once you leave.
"How I'm going to go back to school tomorrow and face everybody."
"What do you mean?" she wonders, taking a seat beside me on my bed.
I exhale a breath.
"They all know you're famous," I mutter. "They all know I'm adopted."
"Are you being bullied?"
I lower my head in shame.
"Sierra, are you being bullied?" she repeats, clearly enunciating each word.
"I can handle myself, alright?" I snap.
With a huff, she gets up from my bed and storms out of my room, slamming the door behind her. I can hear her and Dallas talking, more like screaming, followed by the slamming of the front door. Does she get a rush from slamming doors or something?
I collapse onto my back, watching my ceiling fan as it spins. A soft knocking sound is followed by the door opening.
"Are you okay, Sierra?"
It's Dallas.
"I'm fine," I grumble, just wanting to be left alone.
"I'll be in my room if you want to talk or anything," Dallas informs.
I resist the urge to snap at her. Luckily, the door closes moments later. I go over and lock it, grab my blade, and enter my bathroom, locking that door as well.
I strip out of my clothes with a few silent tear drops trailing down my already tear-stained cheeks.
I'm sick of crying. I'm sick of living.
I lose count of how many incisions I make with the blade. The sight of my blood trickling down my white flesh is slightly mesmerizing.
Good girl, Sierra. You're right where you belong.
ns 64.252.185.87da2
