(Sierra's POV)
I shove the redheaded woman away from Wilmer, almost laughing as she stumbles in her high heels. After regaining her balance, she glares at me.
"Who do you think you are, pushing me-"
"I'm his adopted daughter," I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "That's who I think I am. Now, who do you think you are swapping spit with my dad?"
Her eyebrows raise, and her eyes widen. She repeats the actions of opening and closing her mouth, reminding me of a fish out of water.
"Cat didn't seem to have your tongue when you were flirting with a married man," I snarl.
"Married?" she echoes, mouth agape.
I thank my lucky stars that Wilmer obviously didn't divulge his personal life to this woman.
"Didn't I just say that? Jeez, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that your clown makeup is killing your brain cells. But that would mean that there would've had to have been brain cells present to start with, correct?"
"You're calling me stupid, aren't you, you little brat?" she growls.
"Yes," I smile while nodding. "Now, I suggest you run along before my mom shows up and beats your sorry little ass so badly that you'll be wishing that you had never given your virginity up in the first place, let alone become a whore and slept with someone else's husband."
"I'm not a whore," she spits.
"Whoops, my apologies. At least whores get paid for their work."
She clenches her fists, as if resisting the urge to strike me.
"Now," I drawl out in a bored sounding tone, "in case your intellectually deprived brain didn't get the memo, don't you dare so much as step a foot within a hundred-mile radius of my dad, or, so help me God, I will personally see to it that your life becomes a living hell. Good day," I say with a grin, slamming the door before she can even begin to speak again.
I turn towards a seemingly speechless Wilmer.
"If we were in a sitcom, this is when the background track for applause and impressed whistles would start playing," I state.
"Adopted daughter?" he arches an eyebrow.
"Do you want me to call her back here?"
He vigorously shakes his head.
"You could've at least picked one who has more lights on upstairs," I snort. "How do you go from Demi to that thing?"
"She has a name."
"And you probably don't even know it. Seriously, though, Demi and that woman, who appears to be as classy as a three dollar hooker, are polar opposites. I mean, Demi... and I don't mean this in a weird way because she's my sister, and that's just..." I shudder. "But Demi's hot as fuck with perfect curves and an ass that most women would kill for. That redheaded freak of nature felt like she was going to snap in half with the one shove that I gave her."
"But that's what you want, isn't it?"
"What?"
"The thigh gap, even though you already have it. The feeling of being fragile and dainty and weightless. You want all of that, don't you?"
I feel my cheeks flush from shame. My gaze flickers to the floor.
"I honestly don't know what I want anymore," I whisper, blinking rapidly to fight back tears and wondering why I'm even getting all teary-eyed in the first place.
"Hey," Wilmer tilts my head up. "Chin up, princesa. Your tiara is falling."
"Yo no soy una princesa. I'm not a princess. This ain't a fairytale," I mumble.
"Demi and I will help you, Sierra."
"Demi can't even help herself."
"We'll all help each other," he smiles sadly. "Where is Demi anyway?"
"She ran. She saw you kissing that girl, and she ran."
He curses.
"You weren't even kissing her, were you?"
"Of course not," he shakes his head. "She kissed me."
It's my turn to curse.
"Is Demi's car still here?" I wonder, opening the front door and poking my head out.
"I'll check out back."
With a disappointed sigh, I close the door.
"Her car's not out back," he calls.
"It's not out front either. Where the hell could she have run off to?"
He's about to reply when my phone rings. I hurry to the dining room table and pick up the trilling device.
"Hello?" I answer, hoping that it's Demi calling.
"Are you and your sister ever returning home?"
My hope deflates upon hearing Dianna's joking voice.
"Of course," I feign a happy tone. "We'll be home soon."
"No rush. Just remember that I need to talk to you two, especially you, Sierra," she states, her tone now much more serious, all lightness and laughter gone.
"We can talk now?" I suggest.
"It's better that we have this conversation in person and with Demi present."
"Oh... okay," I stutter, her stern tone worrying me. "We'll be home soon," I repeat.
"I love you, Sierra."
"Love you, too," I mumble, ending the phone call.
"Dianna?" Wilmer correctly guesses.
I nod.
"Demi's obviously not there," I mumble.
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, wracking my brain for any place that she could be. Suddenly, my phone rings again, causing me to jump.
"Hello?" I answer.
"Sierra," Demi's voice comes through statically, "I want you to go home, okay?"
"Demi, where are you?"
Wherever she is, her cell phone receives terrible reception there. The buzzing in my ear is highly irritating, and her words are becoming broken up into tiny robotic-sounding half syllables. I put the phone on speaker and place it back onto the table.
"Don't worry about me. I want you to tell Wilmer to take you home, okay? T-tell mom and dad that I'm sorry," she shakily whispers before ending the call.
"Damn it!" I groan, slamming my clenched fist down onto the table, pissed that I still have no idea where she's at.
"What do you think she meant by 'tell mom and dad that I'm sorry'?" Wilmer asks quietly.
"I have no idea," I sigh. "What would she have to be sorry for?"
Shaking my head, I pick up the dishes from earlier. I'm repulsed by the fact that I ate all of my fruit salad and half of my portion of eggs.
You're disgusting, Sierra. So disgusting that even Demi, your own sister, doesn't want to be around you.
I try to ignore my charging demons to the best of my ability. With a small, proud smile, I notice that Demi ate her entire breakfast. I place all the dishes in the kitchen sink.
"Her phone reception sucked," I point out, turning around to face Wilmer.
"So?"
"So, where in L.A. is the phone reception that terrible?"
"In the city? Nowhere."
"What about outside of the city?"
"Why would she be outside of the city?"
"How am I supposed to know?" I throw my hands up in exasperation.
He's quiet, seeming to be deep in thought.
"There are some woods right outside of the city that Demi and I use to hike through all the time."
"Woods?"
I warily nibble on the inside of my bottom lip as he nods.
"I just don't see her..." I trail off, suddenly remembering the cabin. "Oh, shit, how could I have been so stupid?" I mutter, grabbing my phone.
"What's wrong?"
"I think I might know where she is," I respond, quickly dialing Demi's number and cursing when the call goes straight to voicemail.
"Where?"
"The cabin in the woods," I distractedly reply, redialing Demi's number again and again.
"Isn't that a movie?" Wilmer questions, but his words barely register in my head.
When Demi's phone goes straight to voicemail for what seems like the hundredth time, I blindly hurl my phone, not even caring if it shatters.
"Whoa, Sierra, calm down."
"Calm down?" I shriek. "Calm down? You want me to calm down? How the fuck do you expect me to calm down?"
Hot angry tears spill over my eyelids, searing my skin as they trail down my cheeks.
"W-we have to help her."
I lunge for his car key on the table, clenching it tightly in my fist. The edges bite into my palm, the sensation calming me slightly.
"We have to help her," I repeat in a calmer tone with a sniffle.
"Sierra," Wilmer approaches me slowly, his tone soft and cautious but also commanding, one that a cop would use to coax a gunman into letting hostages go. "Demi is fine. She probably just needs a little time to clear her head. She'll be back here before you know it, ready to curse me out for allowing that woman to kiss me," he smiles weakly, gently gripping my forearm.
I shake my head and yank my arm from his grip as he tries to grab the key.
"You don't get it. She's probably trying to clear her head permanently."
I walk over to my phone, my mind racing.
"What do you mean?"
I bend down and scoop up the device. Flipping it over so that the screen is visible, I exhale a relieved breath. No cracks. No scratches. Pure luck. I shove the phone into my back pocket. Turning around to face Wilmer, I nervously scrape my teeth against the knuckle of my left index finger.
"What are you not telling me, Sierra?" he asks through clenched teeth, narrowing his eyes.
"Nothing," I answer a tad too quickly.
"Sierra."
"It's just... I don't know if she wants me to tell you," I quietly mumble.
"Well, based on how you were acting just a few minutes ago, I'm assuming that whatever you're not telling me is important. We have to help her..." he murmurs more to himself than to me. "Why did you choose then to say that? What does her location have to do with us helping her?"
I chew on my bottom lip.
"Sierra, if Demi were in trouble, wouldn't you want to help her?"
I nod.
"Then tell me. Let me help her."
I flicker my gaze to the floor, internally debating with myself.
"Please."
I sigh.
"She's... she's suicidal," I cave. "Before you picked me up yesterday, w-we were at this cabin. Things were going okay until I started getting nosy. I found a trash can practically overflowing with sheets of notebook paper. I thought that they were song lyrics or something," I shake my head at my own ignorance. "They weren't song lyrics."
"They were suicide letters."
I nod, swiping away a lone tear.
"I don't want to lose her," I mumble. "We may fight a lot and seem like we hate each other at times, but we've been through hell and back together, and she's my sister. I can't lose her."
"You won't."
****
"Is this it?" Wilmer inquires.
"Well, there's trees everywhere, so I'm going to go with yes, this is the forest."
"Your sarcasm is not appreciated."
"You wouldn't know how to survive without my sarcasm," I retort, looking for any signs of Demi, her car, or the cabin. "There's her car," I point out once I spot it.
Her car is parked at the bottom of a lane.
"She walked from here to the cabin?" I infer. "I'm sure as hell not doing that," I snort.
"We might just have to."
"That's not funny."
"I'm not joking. Her car is blocking part of the entrance. There's no way I'd be able to drive through without hitting her car."
I mentally curse Demi as Wilmer shuts off his car, which is now parked beside Demi's. I get out of the car and trail behind him as we begin to walk down the long driveway.
"Why should I be punished because Demi can't properly park her stupid car?" I groan, crossing my arms.
"Your complaining is only going to make this walk seem longer than it actually is."
I kick a pebble, knowing that he's right.
"Shouldn't we be running?" I observe.
"Why?"
"What if she..." I trail off, unable to voice my thought.
"Is trying to kill herself?"
"Or already has," I lowly mutter.
He shakes his head.
"I've known her for over four years now. I've seen her at her best moments and at her worst."
"This isn't her worst?" I ask, surprised.
I mean, I know that this is a relapse and that Demi's been in extremely dark places in the past, but what I've seen her go through during the time I've known her has been pretty scary, to be honest. It's like she has a split personality; one personality is her true bubbly self while the other is one fueled by her inner demons.
Again, Wilmer shakes his head.
"You don't know her like I do. You may not ever be able to understand completely."
"Well, why not?"
"You don't know what we've been through. Although I have screwed up more times than I'd like to admit, and regardless of the fact that she practically hates me right now, she's still my best friend."
I hum thoughtfully as I kick another pebble.
"Wait, were you just quoting Brantley Gilbert?" I cock my head to the side.
"Who?"
"Brantley Gilbert," I repeat. "He's a country singer."
"Never heard of him."
"Seriously? It sounded like you were kind of quoting his lyrics."
"Nope," he says. "I was just speaking my thoughts. How does that song go?"
"Hey old friend-"
"Sing the lyrics. Don't just speak them."
"Damn, tough crowd," I tease. "Why do you want me to sing?"
"Might make this walk go by faster," he shrugs.
"I'll sing," I slowly agree, "but don't start complaining if and when your ears bleed."
"Just sing."
"Hey, old friend, thanks for callin'. It's good to know somebody cares. Yeah, she's gone, but I don't feel like talkin'. It might be just too much to bear, to hear somebody say it stops hurting, or to hear somebody say she ain't worth it 'cause you don't know her like I do. You'll never understand. You don't know what we've been through. That girl's my best friend, and there's no way you're gonna help me. She's the only one who can. No, you don't know how much I've got to lose. You don't know her like I do..."
"My ears aren't bleeding," Wilmer comments once I finish the song.
"Shut up."
We approach the front door of the cabin. Immediately, a wave of trepidation hits me. My hands are visibly shaking as I reach for the door.
"Calm down, Sierra," Wilmer gently orders as I grip the doorknob.
"I can't. I'm scared," I admit.
"Why?"
"What if we find her..." I inhale a shuddering breath at the images and scenarios that my mind conjures up.
"She'll be okay," he reassures.
"Promise?" I find myself pathetically begging.
Promises are always broken.
"Promise."
Nodding at his less-than-comforting but sincere-sounding promise, I turn the knob and push the door open.
"Demi?" I call out, glancing around both the living room and kitchen before heading towards the office space.
Holding my breath, I open the door, only to exhale heavily upon finding the room unoccupied; however, the room isn't the only thing empty.
"Where are the letters?" I mutter to myself.
"Sierra," I hear Wilmer call.
I hurry upstairs, half-expecting him to have found Demi dead in the bathroom, though I try to push the thought away. However, to my surprise, there's a large room at the top of the stairs, a bedroom. That's where I find him.
And Demi.
She leans against the large wooden headboard of the bed, staring blankly ahead.
"I couldn't do it," her voice is hoarse, sounding as if she has been crying for quite some time. "I wanted to. I wanted to so badly. But I couldn't. And I don't know why."
Relieved tears glide down my cheeks. The coil of fear within the pit of my stomach unwinds itself as my anxiety dissipates. I feel as if a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. Without warning, I fling myself at Demi, belly flopping onto the bed and tightly wrapping my arms around her.
"Don't ever fucking scare me like that again. I was so worried. I thought... I thought that I had lost you. I don't ever want to lose you. You're my sister, Demi, and I don't want you to commit suicide. Ever. I love you too much to let you do that to yourself. Please, I'm begging you, don't ever kill yourself. I need you. Here. With me. I can't fight this without you, Demi. I just can't."
"I thought that nobody would care."
"Well, you obviously thought wrong. So, so, so very wrong."
"Sierra?"
"Hm?"
"I can't breathe."
"I really don't care," I chuckle through my tears that are beginning to cease, reluctantly easing my grip. "Oh, and just for the record, Wilmer didn't kiss that three dollar hooker. It was the other way around," I add, finally releasing her and allowing her to breathe.
"Three dollar hooker?" she laughs in surprise.
Wilmer groans.
"Hey!" I point at him, rising to my feet. "You better feel lucky that I didn't say one cent."
"Hermosa," he gains Demi's attention, "I know that you're probably not going to believe me, but I didn't kiss her. She-"
"I know."
"What?"
"I know. I thought about it after I left. Even if we aren't together anymore, it's not like you to rub something like a breakup in someone's face. You're not that immature. I, however, obviously am. I'm immature and irrational and stupid and-"
Wilmer cuts off her negative rambling with a kiss.
"Damn," I whisper.
"We can hear you," they say in unison, amusement evident in both of their tones.
"Oh," I fiddle with my thumbs. "Well, in that case, dayum."
Demi giggles, her face tinting a slight shade of pink as she bites her lower lip. Seeing her genuinely happy for once, even if it is just for a moment, brings a smile to my face.
"As much as I would love to sit in the car while you two make up... or, uh... make out-"
Demi's blush only intensifies at my teasing.
"-we have shit to do."
"I thought mom would've forgotten," she groans.
"Nope. She called me after you left. Still wants to talk to us, and she sounded really serious."
"Did you flunk a test or something?"
"Not that I know of." I frown. "And I mean, my grades aren't stellar, but it's not like they're straight F's either."
"Hmm. That's odd. Mom isn't one to not explain herself unless you've really fucked up."
"I'm the queen of fucking up."
"If you're the queen, then I'm the... What's higher ranking than a queen?"
I shake my head with an amused smile.
"Come on, little miss home-schooled," I joke as I head for the door. "Let's go see what mommy dearest wants."
Why do I have such a bad feeling about this?
ns 15.158.61.12da2
