(Sierra's POV)
I watch silently as they slowly begin to lower the casket into the burial plot. Maddie cries as everyone stands as rigid as statues, heads bowed and hands clasped. The adults seem to be struggling to hold back their tears. Although the day is a morbid one, a day to mourn over the loss of a young woman's life taken much too soon, the sky is clear, the sun bright.
"She was too young," Maddie sobs. "She didn't deserve to die."
"Who deserves to die?" I retort.
"Murderers, child molesters, rapists, the kid who stole my Oreos during snack time in kindergarten, but not her. How are you not crying?"
"I guess I wasn't as attached to her as you were."
Or maybe I'm just good at masking my emotions.
I watch as a friend of the spiritual, strong life lost places a single rose upon the top of the casket.
"What's her name again?" I ask, referring to the friend.
"Jennifer," Madison replies. "But she prefers to go by JJ."
I nod.
"Why did she have to be the one to die?" Maddie continues to weep. "Why didn't she hold on? Why didn't she keep fighting?"
"It's not healthy to ponder over questions that you know can't be answered."
"Shut up, Dr. Phil. I'll ponder over whatever questions I choose to, thank you very much," she sniffles. "She was too young," she repeats. "Far too young. She didn't even get the chance to get married or start a family."
"It's tragic."
"Quit bottling your emotions up. I know that you're just as sad as I am."
"Why are you crying?" Dallas enters the room, eyeing Maddie as if she has completely lost her mind.
"It's just so sad!"
I roll my eyes at her dramatics and gesture towards the television tucked away in the corner of Demi's hospital room.
"We're watching Criminal Minds," I explain. "It's the episode where-"
"Don't say it," Maddie pleads.
"Emily-"
"Don't say it."
"Dies."
"Oh, you said it! How dare you, Sierra?"
"I'm not sorry," I shrug.
Dallas glances back and forth between the two of us.
"Okay," she slowly breathes out. "Do you wanna know what it sounds like from the hallway?"
"You could hear us from the hallway?"
"I could hear you from the hallway, yes," she replies to Madison's inquiry.
"I'm guessing that it sounded like Demi had died," I infer.
Dallas nods as I turn in my chair to face Demi who lays in her hospital bed, still not awake. Her hand that was cold upon arrival is now slightly warm because I haven't let go of it since we arrived. The angry, red cuts visible on her arms because of the short sleeved, hospital provided gown contrast heavily with her pale, ghostly complexion.
"When do you think she'll wake up?" Maddie softly questions, as if reading my mind.
"The doctor said that it should be sometime soon."
"That's a pretty vague answer," I scrunch up my nose.
"Yeah, it is," Dallas chuckles. "I kind of wanted to punch him when he gave me that response."
"Where are Dianna and Eddie?"
"Getting coffee, I think."
Dianna has practically been drowning in her own tears since we all arrived, not that I blame her. I mean, she just found out that her daughter, her strong warrior of a daughter, has returned to her potentially fatal self-destructive ways. Eddie, however, tries to mask his sadness. Although I've seen his eyes tear up, I have yet to see him shed a tear. I find it worrisome and kind of scary when a grown man cries. The man is supposed to be the strong one, the one to support and hold up everyone else who is crumbling and breaking down. When a grown man cries, I feel as if all the faith has been sucked right out of me, as if the situation is hopeless and the worst-case scenario is a reality.
I absentmindedly trace some of Demi's scars, avoiding her fresh wounds and wondering the cause of each self-inflicted gash, wondering what she was thinking at the time.
"Do you think Wilmer's coming back?" Maddie wonders, clutching onto Demi's other hand.
Wilmer dropped me off at the front of the hospital, muttering something about being back soon before driving off. My hope for him returning has dwindled.
"I don't know, babygirl," Dallas says, claiming the chair near the doorway. "But, although he's not my favorite person at the moment-"
"That's putting it lightly," I snort.
"He needs to be here," Dallas continues, ignoring my comment. "For Demi's sake, he needs to be here."
"She still hasn't woken up?" Dianna's tired-sounding voice fills the room.
"Not yet," Maddie sighs.
"I can't believe that we didn't notice," Dianna whispers, approaching Demi.
"We noticed," Dallas contradicts. "Well, at least, I kind of did. I noticed that something about her had changed but..."
She trails off and simply shakes her head.
"Me too," Maddie mumbles. "I just... I never thought it was this bad."
"How long have you known, Sierra?" Eddie speaks up.
I swallow nervously, just now noticing how dry my throat is. Do I lie? They'll hate me if I tell them that I've known for months, won't they?
"I, um," I stutter, not knowing what to say.
Maddie reaches over Demi's blanket-clad legs, extending a hand out to me. I take her hand with a small, grateful smile. She gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, as if letting me know that she won't hate me, regardless of what I say.
I allow my eyelids to flutter close, not able to look my family in the eyes.
"Months," I whisper, then clear my throat. "I've known for months," I speak a bit louder.
The silence that follows is tense and awkward. It's suffocating. I can feel tears sting the back of my eyes.
"Please, don't hate me," I pathetically beg, allowing myself to look at their distraught faces.
Dallas gasps.
"Sierra," I direct my attention to Dianna, preparing for the worst. "We could never hate you. We love you, babygirl. I mean, yeah, I wish that you would've told us sooner, but..." she pauses, seeming to be in deep thought, before she continues. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?"
My mind goes completely blank. What am I supposed to say? I can't let them know that I do practically the same potentially lethal things to myself that Demi does to herself.
"I, um, I made a promise to Demi," I mentally curse myself for stuttering.
It's not that I'm exactly lying to her, but I'm not telling her the whole truth either.
Dianna hums, almost sounding as if she doesn't believe my statement. She opens her mouth to speak, but Maddie unknowingly cuts her off.
"Look who's waking up."
We all turn our attention to Demi whose eyes are just beginning to flutter open. She blinks a few times, seeming to be in a daze, as if she doesn't realize where she is. She eyes the IV bag hanging beside her bed. Her eyes quickly travel down the tube to her wrist where a nurse inserted the IV, after having much trouble trying to find Demi's dehydrated vein, might I add. She tries to raise the hand that I have a hold of, but I squeeze her hand, stopping her actions.
"Don't try to take it out. It's not gonna make you gain. I promise," I reassure, not knowing whether or not my words ring truth but knowing that her body needs whatever is in that IV drip.
She lowers her hand to its previous position.
"What happened?" she croaks.
"You passed out," Maddie explains.
"Mads," Demi's eyes widen slightly as she removes her hand from my grasp and crosses her arms against her stomach to hide her mangled skin.
"No," Maddie shakes her head, taking Demi's hands and pulling her arms away from her. "You don't have to hide them from me, Dems."
"You shouldn't have to see me like this."
"Shut up, okay?" Maddie chuckles.
Demi nods with a barely there smile. She doesn't attempt to move her arms back once Maddie releases her hands.
"Demi," Dianna gains Demi's attention. "Why?" she softly questions.
Demi lowers her gaze.
"I honestly don't know."
"It was because of Wilmer, wasn't it?" Dallas inquires in a slightly know-it-all sounding tone.
"No," Demi shakes her head, raising her gaze to meet our older sister's. "I mean, that's what I kept telling myself. I convinced myself that him cheating on me is what set me off, that it was, like, the domino that started the chain reaction. In reality, though, I was slipping up before he cheated on me. I was carelessly putting myself in triggering situations and allowing the negative thoughts to bring me down without even trying to stop them. Hell, I was even drinking again, albeit neither as much nor as often as before, but still. When he cheated on me, I handled it very, very negatively. I told myself that it was my fault and listed all the reasons why. Looking back, I used his mistake as a kind of crutch for my demons to further destroy me. Instead of dealing with it in a healthy manner, I allowed it to ruin my recovery. At the end of the day, it's my fault that I relapsed and nobody else's. It's my responsibility, and I'm ready to own up to that fact."
"Own up to it how?" Dallas questions.
"I-"
"Knock, knock," Demi's doctor makes his presence known, voicing his two knocks upon the door.
He enters the room with a beaming grin that's obviously fake.
"So, Ms. Lovato," he flips through the papers on his clipboard. "Well, first off, let me start by saying congratulations-"
"Congratulations for what?" Demi wonders with furrowed eyebrows.
I'm asking myself the same thing. Why would you congratulate someone who has relapsed from both an eating disorder and self-harm? Is he trying to make light of the situation by making sick, twisted jokes? No wonder Dallas wanted to punch this guy.
"On your pregnancy, of course," the man replies simply, as if we should've already been aware of his answer.
I nearly choke on my own saliva.
"What are you talking about? That's not fucking funny, you asshole," I glare at the doctor.
"Sierra," Eddie scolds, not even sounding surprised that I swore, not that I blame him.
I mean, he just found out that his daughter has not only relapsed but is apparently pregnant, too. At least, that's what this ignorant fuck of a doctor is telling us.
"Demi, you really don't tell us anything anymore, do you?" Maddie weakly jokes, her tone and face mirroring her shock.
"I can't tell you about something that I know nothing about," Demi nearly snaps. "Doctor, no offense to you or anything," she's probably about to offend him, "but are you positive that you're looking at the right file?"
He blinks at her, plastering a strained smile onto his face.
"I think I know how to do my job, Ms. Lovato."
"Listen, buddy," I begin to rise from my chair, but Demi grips my arm, forcing me to sit back down with a huff.
The doctor looks at me with alarmed and possibly frightened eyes.
"Can I please just see my file?" Demi flashes him a fake smile of her own.
He nods, eyeing me warily as he hands Demi the clipboard. I lowly growl in what I hope is a menacing tone. Demi elbows me slightly while the doctor eases away from me. I almost burst out laughing at the fact that he, a grown man, looks truly scared of me, a twelve-year-old girl.
"Yeah, this isn't me. This isn't my file. But you can go tell this chick that Demi Lovato says congrats," Demi extends the clipboard out for him to take.
"Oh, thank God," I mutter in unison with Dallas as everyone else seems to breathe sighs of relief.
"Hey!" Demi frowns.
"Don't even go there. You're thinking the exact same thing, and we all know it," I chuckle in relief.
Don't get me wrong, I think Demi would be an awesome mom, and it'd be cool to be called an aunt by a little rugrat, but she's nowhere close to being in a stable enough mindset to raise a child.
"Oh, my apologies," the doctor flips through his clipboard again. "It's been a long day."
"Yeah, it has for us, too, dumbass," I mutter under my breath, receiving another elbow jab from Demi.
"So, Ms. Lovato, you were admitted for a fainting spell, am I correct?"
Demi nods.
"Do you know why I fainted?" she worriedly bites her lower lip.
"You fainted because you had an electrolyte imbalance that led to dehydration, which is also what caused your headaches and dizziness prior to fainting."
I can feel Demi's gaze shift to me for a split second. Well, now she probably knows that I'm the one who sounded the alarms. Great.
"Aren't electrolytes those things that Gatorade replaces?" Maddie inquires, causing the doctor to chuckle.
"Supposedly, yes."
"And what causes an imbalance of electrolytes?" Demi continues.
"Wait," Dianna pipes up. "What exactly are electrolytes?"
"Electrolytes are basically essential minerals in your body that are necessary for nerve and muscle function. They come in the forms of calcium, chlorine, magnesium, phosphate, potassium, and sodium, which means that they can be obtained from fluids, supplements, and certain foods. Bananas, for example, are an excellent source of potassium and would therefore be a source of electrolytes. It's perfectly normal to lose electrolytes, when sweating, for example, but the key is to replace the electrolytes that you have lost so that you don't have an imbalance."
"Is sweating the only way to lose electrolytes?"
"Not at all. Electrolytes can also be lost when a person suffers from a deficiency or an overabundance of minerals in the body. For example, hyperkalemia and hypercalcemia are when a person has excess amounts of potassium and calcium, respectively, in their body. Severe illness, diarrhea, and vomiting can also cause such a loss of electrolytes that it leads to dehydration, which can be fatal."
"Vomiting?" Demi echoes.
He nods.
"So... purging? Me purging would cause it?"
Another affirmative nod.
"I'm assuming you purge excessively?"
"Define excessively."
"Do you purge more than three times a day?"
"Easily," Demi nods.
"More than six?"
"Often," she nods again.
"Then, that's what most likely caused the electrolyte imbalance as well as your dehydration. You've also been starving yourself, correct?"
Demi hesitates slightly.
"Yeah," her voice cracks, and I can tell that she's holding back tears.
I wonder what's going through her head right now. I know that I'm terrified for her, and although I hate to admit it, especially because it seems selfish, I'm terrified for myself. We both could die from this, from what we're doing to ourselves. Truth be told, although I sometimes say and act otherwise, I don't want to die so young, not at only twelve years of age, not before I've even hit my teenage years, and I don't think that Demi wants to either.
"That would nearly eliminate your chances of replenishing the electrolytes through food. Which reminds me-"
He exits the room, only to return a second later pulling a two-shelved rolling cart with a blue, dome-like closed tray on the top shelf.
"This is for you," he says as hands Demi a small styrofoam cup.
He then reaches beside me, pulling the retractable arm of the tray table that is attached to the bed so that it's in front of Demi.
He removes the closed tray from the cart and places it on the table. He lifts the dome-shaped lid of the tray, revealing inhumane portions of food.
"You have to eat all of that," he directs. "And drink the entire cup of orange juice."
"Excuse me?"
"It's the beginning of your recovery here-"
"Whoa, hold up. Who said anything about recovery?"
The doctor frowns.
"Well, I just assumed that this would be your wake-up call to seek help. We have an excellent ward that specializes in all things mental health, especially eating disorders and even self-mutilation."
"Well, you assumed so damn wrong-"
"Demi, hush," Dianna scolds.
"But, mom-"
"Why don't we take this out into the hallway?" Dianna asks the doctor.
With a wary glance at Demi, he nods, following Dianna out into the hallway, and she closes the door behind them.
I glance over Demi's meal of white rice, mixed vegetables, and...
"Is that chicken, beef, or cat food?" I squint at the chopped up mystery meat smothered in a brown gravy-like substance.
"Might be dog food," Maddie chimes in.
"True," I rip open the plastic wrapper that contains a plastic spork, a plastic knife, and a napkin.
I poke and prod at the mystery substance with the knife.
"Let's just go with mystery meat," I scrunch up my nose in disgust.
"Whatever it is, I'm sure as hell not eating it," Demi mutters.
"At least drink the juice," I try to reason with her.
Her gaze locks with mine. With a sigh, she nods and picks up the styrofoam cup, taking small sips.
Dianna soon returns with no doctor accompanying her.
"Mom, please, just hear me out," Demi begs, returning her cup to the tray.
"I'm listening," she folds her arms over her chest.
"It's not that I don't want to recover. I-I do want treatment. I do want help. I just don't want to do it here. I don't want to try to recover at a place that makes me feel as if I'm crazy, and I certainly don't want to try to recover at a place so vulnerable to the public eye. I want to be happy again, and I want to be healthy again. I want to feel beautiful in my own skin again and actually be able to look at myself in the mirror without wanting to either shatter the mirror or break down in sobs. I want to feel as if I'm worth something again and not constantly feel numb and depressed anymore. I just want to live again, mom. I'm ready to own up to my responsibilities."
Demi's sobbing by the time she finishes talking, and Dianna is also in tears as well as Dallas and Maddie. Eddie and I seem to be the only two who aren't crying, but I'm pretty sure we're both fighting to hold back tears. Well, at least, I am.
"My baby," Dianna wraps her arms around Demi, allowing them to sob into each other's shoulder. "We're going to do all of that, okay? We're going to get you better again."
"I'm sorry," Demi chokes out. "I'm so, so sorry."
"Why are you sorry, darling?" Dianna backs away from her daughter, wiping away the tears that have created black mascara rivers down Demi's cheeks.
"I'm sorry that I'm so weak. I'm sorry that I'm constantly needing to be picked back up. I'm sorry that-"
Dianna shushes her.
"You're not weak, babygirl. You're the strongest person I know. Everybody needs to be picked back up every once in a while," she flashes a watery smile. "You just need a little help getting back on your feet is all. But you're not gonna let this relapse define you, okay? You're gonna kick butt and come out on the other side stronger than ever."
"But what if I can't?" Demi whispers.
"I know that you will. I have faith in you, Dems. You're a warrior."
"Can you two please stop messing with my allergies?" I wipe away the moisture underneath my eyelids, then begin to blink rapidly and fan my eyes with my hands when I realize that the tears aren't stopping.
"I second that," Eddie sniffles.
"Aw, babygirl, come here," Demi wraps her arm around me in a side hug, squeezing me slightly but not so much that it's uncomfortable.
The silence that follows is oddly comfortable, leaving everybody with their own thoughts.
"I'm so fucking proud of you, Dems," I whisper in her ear.
"Sierra, can your mom and I speak with you for a moment in the hallway?" Eddie requests.
"Uh, sure?" I reply, sounding like a question more than an answer.
I release Demi and rise to my feet, feeling confused. The three of us head out into the hallway, Eddie closing the door behind us. He and Dianna stand on one side of the doorway while I stand on the other.
"What do you wanna talk to me about?" I rock back and forth on the heels of my feet.
"Sierra, we're not going to beat around the bush here-"
"And I don't want you to," I interrupt Dianna.
"Okay," she sighs as Eddie pulls a slightly crumpled piece of paper out of his pants pocket.
"This is what we wanted to speak with you and Demi about earlier," he explains as he passes the sheet to me.
I smooth the piece of paper of all of its creases, recognizing the black and white photograph as me. The picture was obviously taken by a paparazzi, seeing as I wasn't looking in the direction of the camera. I can't even recall the day the photo was taken. I'm just about to ask what's so odd about the picture when I see it. Because the picture is in black and white, what would usually be a bold red, orange, or yellow circle is now dark grey. What's the circle pointing out? Directing all eye contact to? The cuts and scars on one of my wrists.
"I-I can explain-"
Dianna holds a hand up to silence me.
"Please lift up your sleeves, Sierra."
I can feel my shoulders slump, as if a heavy weight has just been released off of them. I'm tired of fighting. Seeing Demi laying in a hospital bed because of her eating disorder really opened my eyes and woke me up to the dangers of what I'm doing to myself. I don't want to live like this anymore. I want to live to see my thirteenth birthday, the start of my teenage years. I want to be able to experience my sweet sixteen and feel ecstatic about receiving my driver's license. I want to see myself graduate from high school and then college, even though I don't have the faintest idea as to what occupation I want to have. I want to have a first kiss and a first boyfriend, or maybe even girlfriend. I want to see myself get married and start a family of my own. I want to be able to see Demi progress in her career as well as battle and conquer her demons for the second time in treatment. I want to be able to see Demi and Dallas get married and start families of their own, as well as Maddie when she's older. I want to see Maddie graduate from high school, and maybe college if that's the route she wants to take. I want to see what crazy color Demi dyes her hair next and how we'll all react to the initial shock of it, even though we should really be used to it by now. I just... I want to keep living, breathing, seeing, being.
I roll my sleeves up. Dianna inhales sharply. What surprises me is that both she and Eddie seem to be on the verge of tears.
"Don't cry over me," I command. "Don't feel sadness or pity or sympathy."
"You're our daughter, Sierra. Of course we're going to feel those things," Dianna cries.
"You shouldn't," I shake my head. "Wanna know why?"
"Why, baby?"
I look at Demi through the small window in the door to her room. She's laughing along with Maddie. I can't hear their laughter, but their wide smiles, especially Demi's since her smile has become so foreign, are enough for a smile of my own to grace my lips. As if sensing my eyes on her, Demi looks up, her gaze locking with mine. She smiles and waves. Maddie, with a confused expression that makes me giggle, turns toward the door, then smiles and waves, too. I return both the smile and the wave. Demi's eyes widen slightly, and her mouth drops, same with Maddie. It is then that I notice that they have seen my wrist. Honestly, I don't care. Maddie looks heartbroken, which causes my own chest to ache. Demi, however, has returned her signature smile to her face. She flashes me two thumbs up and mouths 'I'm proud of you'. I mouth back 'I'm proud of you, too'. Dallas enters my line of vision, probably wondering what her sisters are looking at, as I turn back to Dianna and Eddie.
"Because I'm ready to take the first step. I'm ready to ask for help. With that being said, I think you all deserve to know the truth, so..." I gesture toward the door, and they seem to get the hint.
They enter the room first, and I trail behind, my sleeves still rolled up to my elbows. Dallas gasps. Maddie's eyes begin to fill with tears.
"I'm not one to beat around the bush, so here goes nothing, I guess," I clear my throat. "I suffer from the same crap as Demi. The end."
"Really, Sierra?" Demi arches an eyebrow. "I honestly thought that you were going to have a moment there."
"A moment?" I snort. "Okay, let me try again. Hello, my name is Sierra De La Garza, and I suffer from self-harm as well as an eating disorder."
Although my tone is sarcastic, it honestly feels good being able to say this out loud, to not have to hide it anymore.
"We're not in an AA meeting," Demi rolls her eyes.
"Obviously not. I'm not an alcoholic, Demi," I state in a smart tone.
"Girls," Dianna gains everyone's attention. "When I called earlier and told you two that your dad and I needed to talk to you, I certainly wasn't expecting it to go down like this," she chuckles lightly along with Demi and me. "Sierra, we wanted to talk with you, in particular, because we saw the photos that the paparazzi had gotten of your cuts. We wanted you to be honest with us and trust us enough to come clean. You have done more than that, babygirl, and I'm so proud of you for reaching out to us and asking us for help."
"I'm proud of you, too, Sierra," Demi interjects, followed by Maddie and Dallas.
"Thanks, guys, and I'm proud of all of you, too," I smile.
"Now," Dianna continues. "Our original plan was to have you live with Demi at her apartment, but-"
"Wait. Demi has an apartment?" I question.
"Yes," Demi giggles.
"Since when?"
"Since a while ago. Did you seriously not know?"
"No," I say, feeling dumb now. "How was I supposed to know? We hardly gave each other the time of day until recently. Why have you been living back at home then?"
"I've been wondering the same thing," Maddie pipes up.
"Because I didn't and still don't trust myself. I fear that, if I were to live by myself in my current state of mind, I'd end up dead, whether intentionally or not."
"Makes sense," I murmur, a shiver shooting up my spine as I recall my reaction just a few hours ago at the mere thought of Demi committing suicide.
"Anyway," Dianna continues. "Because you both are battling through similar wars and because you both have asked for help, that's obviously not going to happen. The question now is: what kind of help do you two need?"
"I've been thinking about it," Demi and I say in unison.
We look at each other before erupting into fits of laughter.
"That was so weird!" I laugh.
"Totally," she agrees, struggling to sober up her laughter. "I, um," she toys with her thumbs, her tone now serious. "I've been thinking about maybe-"
"Head in the clouds
Got no weight on my shoulders
I should be wiser and realize that I've got one less problem without ya
I got one less problem without ya
I got one less problem without ya"
"Whose ringtone is that?" Maddie inquires.
"Uh... that would be mine," Demi sheepishly answers. "For Wilmer."
I can't help but laugh. And I mean laugh so much that a stitch forms in my side and my eyes begin to water.
"Shut up, Sierra."
"I-I can't," I continue to laugh. "I'd be on the floor right now if the hospital floors weren't so gross."
"Hello?" Demi answers her phone. "Yes, I'm awake," she giggles. "I've been awake for, I don't know, an hour at the most. Hang on. I'm putting you on speaker."
She takes the phone away from her ear, taps the screen, and holds the device in her open palm.
"Where are you?"
"The parking lot," Wilmer's voice comes through the phone.
"Of the hospital?"
"Yeah."
"And you're not inside because...?"
"Lack of parking. I've been waiting for a spot for ten minutes."
Demi shakes her head with an amused smile.
"Dude, just park farther away from the doors," I suggest with an eye roll.
"There's the voice that I did not miss."
"The feeling is mutual, asshole."
"Sierra," Dianna gawps at me.
"What? Oh, well, now that we're sharing secrets and stuff, you all should know that I curse like a sailor," I smile sweetly.
"Worse than a sailor," Demi snorts.
"Hypocrite," I shoot back.
"I'm parking in the emergency lane."
"Isn't that where ambulances unload patients and stuff?" I cock my head to the side.
"So, I'm not worth a walk to the doors, but I'm worth you getting your car towed and issued a fine?"
"Sounds logical," I sarcastically comment.
"What floor are you on, Dems?" Wilmer asks, ignoring our criticism.
"Er..." she starts, and I hold up a hand with all five fingers for her answer. "Fifth floor."
We hear a ding from his end of the line, from the elevator most likely.
"Room number?"
"I have no idea," Demi admits before turning to Maddie. "Go stand in the hallway or something so he can find the room."
"No," she scoffs. "Sierra should do it. She's already standing."
"Fine," I agree, heading toward the door.
I look back and forth down both ends of the hallway before I see him turning the corner with a brown, satchel-like bag slung over his shoulder. I wonder what's in the bag.
"Found him," I call into Demi's hospital room.
I mischievously smirk as he approaches me before morphing my expression into one of fright and worry.
"Help! Security! Stranger danger! Stran-"
Wilmer clamps his hand over my mouth before lifting me up into the air.
"She was trying to get me arrested," he states, plopping me down in the chair beside Demi's hospital bed.
"I was not!"
He arches an incredulous eyebrow.
"I would've bailed you out!"
He rolls his eyes.
"You missed everything, dude," I change the subject.
"Really?"
"Yeah," I reply the same time as Demi replies with the opposite.
We glare at each other.
"You missed Demi's pregnancy scare," I smirk.
"Sierra," Demi groans. "It's not what you think," she hurriedly reassures Wilmer. "The doctor accidentally mixed my file up with another patient's."
"Or maybe you're actually pregnant," I joke.
"That's not funny, Sierra."
"I'm laughing."
She narrows her eyes at me, and I stick my tongue out at her. With a roll of her eyes, she removes her gaze from me. I snag her phone from the bed.
"Demi also lost her phone, so you should call it," I instruct Wilmer.
"I haven't lost my phone..." Demi trails off, searching the bed for the device. "Shit, where's my phone?"
I quickly yet gently drop her phone and kick it just enough under the bed so that nobody can see it but also so that it's easily retrievable.
"I'll call it," Wilmer offers.
Ariana Grande's voice belts out the chorus once again.
Demi turns to me.
"You took it, didn't you?" she mumbles flatly.
"I'll find it," Maddie volunteers. "But only because that song is starting to irritate me."
She rises to her feet and begins to search around the bed. She walks around to the side that I'm on, shooting me a suspicious look. I keep my expression impassive. She crouches down, peering under the bed.
"Found it," she tosses the device to Demi. "Sierra had it."
"Why do you just assume it was me?"
They both give me identically unamused looks.
"Well, okay then," I mutter, holding my hands up.
"Personalized ringtone?" Wilmer wonders.
"Yup," Demi smirks. "Speaking of which," she tosses the phone to me. "Sierra, change my ringtone."
With a shrug, I start scrolling through her songs.
"For just him or in general or...?"
"Doesn't matter. I just want something different."
I nod.
"But nothing inappropriate," she adds.
"You just took away all of my fun," I whine.
"Deal with it."
"You have a very vast musical taste, Dems."
I open a Daughtry song in the ringtone creator app and toy around with it for a couple of minutes before clicking play.
"She's talking to angels
Counting the stars
Making a wish on a passing car
She's dancing with strangers
She's falling apart
Waiting for Superman to pick her up in his arms
In his arms
She's waiting for Superman to lift her up
And take her anywhere
Show her love
Flying through the air
Save her now before it's too late tonight
She's waiting for Superman"
"Hey, you even picked my favorite part of the song," Demi coos. "But no, I don't want that to be my ringtone for anybody."
"Okay..."
I continue to scroll through her songs.
"I make you feel so fine
Make you feel so fine
I hope you hit me on my celly when I sneak in your mind"
"I said no inappropriate songs."
"How is this song inappropriate?"
"You're a princess to the public but a freak when it's time
Said your bed be feeling lonely so you're sleeping in mine"
She flashes me a pointed look.
"Well..." I click my tongue. "That's suggestive, not inappropriate."
"Same thing."
"No," I shake my head. "Inappropriate is, like, Something In Your Mouth by Nickelback."
"Just that title sounds inappropriate," Dallas interjects.
"I don't get it," Maddie frowns.
"Good," Demi praises. "Keep it that way until you're thirty."
"You're the biggest hypocrite ever."
"I am not!"
"Anyone who agrees, say aye," she calls out.
"Aye," I raise my hand just for the hell of it.
"I will strangle both of you."
"Violent, much?" Maddie scoffs.
"1-800-choke-dat-hoe," I smirk.
"Isn't that a Madea line?" Dallas questions.
"Yes, but Sierra kind of changed the concept," Demi replies, then gasps.
"What's wrong?" I look up from her phone screen.
"What happened after I left?"
She glances back and forth between me and Wilmer.
"Well, about that..." I rub the back of my neck sheepishly as I look at Dianna and Eddie. "If either of you see a redheaded clown who wears clothes resembling those of a three dollar hooker, keep her at least a hundred miles away from me and Wilmer and Demi."
They both eye me with curious, confused expressions.
"Don't bring me into this," Demi warns. "She never even saw me."
"I kind of, might've, maybe told her that you'd beat her up."
"You did what?" she shrieks.
"You're putting it lightly, Sierra," Wilmer comments.
"Nobody asked you," I retort.
"What exactly did you say?" Demi sternly inquires.
"Well, I might've told her that I was his adopted daughter, and there might be a possibility of me hinting that he was married?" I make it sound like a question, and she groans, burying her face in her hands.
"What else?"
"You know what? I don't exactly recall," I lie.
She looks at me with a blank, disbelieving expression.
"That's odd, Sierra, because I remember exactly what you said."
"Wilmer, I swear to God-"
"I think it went something like, and I quote, 'I suggest you run along before my mom shows up and beats your sorry 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.'"
Maddie laughs loudly, followed by Dallas.
"Up top," Maddie reaches over Demi with her hand raised.
Shaking my head in amusement, I high-five her.
"Sierra, why on Earth would you say something like that?" Dianna narrows her eyes at me.
"Because she hurt Demi," I answer with no hesitation. "Okay, well, Wilmer hurt Demi, but it's basically the same thing."
"Once a cheater, always a cheater," Dallas sneers.
"I don't necessarily believe that," I shake my head, causing just about everyone to look at me with slightly shocked expressions. "I mean, yeah, most people who cheat are more than likely to cheat again, but most people doesn't mean all people. Whether you two, Wilmer and Demi, want to admit it or not, you have something special, and it's evident that you love each other. You've been through hell and back together over the span of four years. Are you honestly just gonna throw all of that away over one mistake?"
"You're only twelve, Sierra," Demi states the obvious. "You don't understand."
"Oh, really?" I raise my eyebrows. "What do I not understand?"
She exhales a flustered breath.
"Answer me this, Demi: Have you ever made mistakes in your relationship?"
"Of course."
"And he forgave you after each and every one of your mistakes, correct?"
She nods.
"So, why can't you do the same?"
"Because none of my mistakes involved cheating."
"But they're still mistakes, right? Things that you regret doing? Things that you knew could potentially break your relationship? Things that you knew would hurt him?" I pause, allowing her to absorb what I'm telling her. "So, what's the difference?"
"My mistakes didn't cause him to stop trusting me."
"You sure about that? Are you sure that your mistakes didn't cause even a tiny smidgen of doubt to creep into his mind?"
She glances at him before casting her gaze downwards.
"Now, because I am not the best with words and because music can, in my opinion, explain emotions better than my senseless rambling can..." I scroll through Demi's playlist again, searching for one particular song. "I feel like we're in an episode of Glee with all the song playing."
I locate the song and tap play.
"So you made a lot of mistakes"
I see a small smile grace Demi's lips as she recognizes the lyrics.
"Walked down the road a little sideways
Cracked a brick when you hit the wall" she whispers the lyrics to herself.
"Yeah you've had a pocket full of regrets pull you down faster than a sunset"
I give her a nod, encouraging her to sing louder, but she just shakes her head
"Hey it happens to us all"
I shoot her an expression, as if saying 'Sing louder, or I'll kill you'.
She glares at me but sings the next line louder anyway.
"When the cold hard rain just won't quit and you can't see your way out of it."
To my surprise, Wilmer joins in for the chorus, and also to my surprise, he can sing well. Can we all just agree that this is a sign that these two should make up already?
"You find your faith that's been lost and shaken
You take back what's been taken
Get on your knees and dig down deep
You can do what you think is impossible
Keep on believing
Don't give in
It'll come and make you whole again
It always will
It always does
Love is unstoppable
Love
It can weather any storm"
I pause the song with a grin.
"Why'd you stop it?" Demi cocks her head to the side. "And what's got you all smiley?"
"That last line. What was it?"
"Love, it can weather any..." she trails off, catching on to what I'm implying. "Quit grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Sierra."
My grin only widens as I hum in amusement.
"Just go back to changing my ringtone."
Chuckling under my breath, I do as she says.
"While Sierra's doing that," I flicker my gaze from Demi's phone to see Wilmer rummaging through his bag. "Here," he hands Demi a black portable DVD player.
"What's this for?"
"These," he plops the bag down onto the bed.
She peers inside the bag hesitantly.
"Shut up!" she squeals.
"Nobody's talking," I butt in.
"Ringtone, Sierra."
"I wanna know what's in the bag," I whine.
She tilts the bag towards me. I reach inside and, with a puzzled expression, retrieve one of many blank discs.
"Why are you carrying around a bag full of blank discs?" I question, returning the disc to the bag.
"They're not blank," Demi explains. "There are videos burned onto each one."
"If they're sex tapes, I'm going to tell your perverted Dilmer shippers on Twitter that their wish has been granted," Maddie announces.
Demi slaps the back of our little sister's head.
"Dal, do you remember when you were, like, obsessed with recording home videos and stuff?"
"Yeah. Oh my gosh, is that them?"
Demi nods. With a squeal that resembles Demi's, Dallas rises from her chair and approaches the bedside.
"I knew that you would eventually come around, Dallas."
"Don't flatter yourself, Valderrama," Dallas examines a couple of the discs. "You didn't label any of them?" an amused smirk forms on her lips.
"Didn't realize that I until I gathered them all up," he sheepishly admits.
"More of a reason to believe that at least one of those discs is a sex tape," Maddie pipes up. "I mean, with your supposed nudes on Twitter and, ow!" she yelps as Demi tugs on her earlobe with her thumb and index finger.
I laugh at Maddie's expense.
"Thanks for the help, Sierra!" she snaps as Demi still has yet to release her grip.
"It's your fault," I defend with a chuckle. "I mean, your theory is plausible and most likely accurate, but, ow!" Demi yanks on my ear, too, causing me to utter a string of curse words.
"Are you two done?"
We simultaneously nod, hissing when Demi tightens her grip before releasing us.
"Good thing I didn't wear earrings," I frown, cupping my now probably red ear.
Dallas pops a disc into the DVD player.
"Wait, Dal, how many times did you record us doing totally stupid shit?"
Dallas' finger hovers over the play button.
"More times than I'd like to admit."
"Mom, dad, the door's that way," Demi points.
Dianna smirks and shakes her head, shuffling closer to the bed along with Eddie. Demi groans, throwing her head back against the pillow. Dallas and I sit on the bed on either side of Demi. Maddie turns her chair so that she's facing the DVD player, and Wilmer moves so that he's standing beside her.
"Just press play and hope for the best," Demi mutters.
"Dallas, stop recording me," Demi, with jet-black hair, commanded.
"No," Dallas giggled.
"You haven't put that thing down since Christmas," Demi rolled her eyes, referring to the video camera.
"You'll be thanking me one day."
"For what?"
"For recording all of these special moments."
"How is me chilling in our living room a special moment?" Demi laughed.
"You'll look back on all of these moments one day and thank me," Dallas continued.
"Shut up, Buddha," Demi smirked, tossing a throw pillow at the camera.
"What if I dropped the camera, Demetria?"
The doorbell chimed.
"Bye-bye camera," Demi cheekily grinned before rising to her feet and walking offscreen.
I can't help but notice how skinny she was, and I mean the unhealthy, sick kind of skinny. Like the pictures that I refer to when I want thinspiration.
"Please, tell me that you didn't invite someone over while mom and dad aren't home," Dallas panned the camera to follow Demi.
Demi spun around to face the camera, feigning an apologetic expression.
"I would but then I'd be lying."
"Demetria Devonne-"
"Quit calling me that."
"Mom and dad are going to kill me because I'm supposed to be supervising you and Maddie."
"The fact that they think I need to be supervised," Demi rolled her eyes again, resuming her walk toward the door. "Like, I'm seventeen for fuck's sake."
"Language."
"Whatever."
She opened the door, but we're unable to see who was being greeted. She hugged the person before leading the person inside.
"We're so dead," Dallas groaned upon seeing that the person was Wilmer. "Dad is going to fucking murder us."
"Language," Demi mocked. "Plus, what dad doesn't know won't hurt him."
Demi looks up from the DVD player to Eddie.
"Hey, dad," she says innocently. "What's happening?"
I chuckle as Eddie just shakes his head. Demi stops the video.
"Please, let the next one be of Dallas saying something stupid," she mutters, earning a light slap on the shoulder from Dallas.
"You already have the camera out?" Demi, with the same black hair from the previous video, arched an eyebrow.410Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7LThLWWwVT
410Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFA97Gnz2HA
"Yup," Dallas stated.
"It's not even noon," Demi laughed.
"So?" Dallas giggled. "We're making memories here, Demi. Things for our older selves to look back on."
Demi silently laughed.
"In that case," she approached the camera. "Dear older self, this is your younger self eating yogurt for breakfast," she held up an index finger, signaling for Dallas to wait.
She turned around and walked offscreen for a couple of moments before returning with a spoon and a small, purple container of yogurt. Covering her mouth as she swallowed the less than half a spoonful of yogurt, her gaze lowered, eyes shifting all over the floor to avoid looking at the camera and Dallas.
"The end," she returned her eyes to the camera with a confident smirk, a facade.
"Smartass."
"Language, Dallas," Dianna made her presence known from offscreen.
"Let me see that," Dallas ignored her mother.
"My yogurt?" Demi wondered with a puzzled expression.
There was silence followed by Demi passing the container to Dallas behind the camera.
"You're eating a fifty-calorie cup of peach yogurt for breakfast?"
Dallas returned the cup to Demi.
"Yeah," she shrugged.
"Let me rephrase. You're eating a fifty-calorie cup of peach yogurt for breakfast when mom is making pancakes? What planet are you from?"
"Jupiter, duh," Demi giggled and rolled her eyes.
Dallas sarcastically laughed.
"Mom, Demi's on another extreme diet."
"Excuse me for trying to eat healthier," Demi scoffed.
"Oh yeah, because starving yourself is totally healthy," Dallas seemed to be in a sarcastic mood.
"If I was starving myself, I wouldn't be eating right now, smart one."
"I don't want you two talking like that," Dianna interjected. "Change the subject now."
"Try telling that to Demi. She's the one doing it."
"Where's Madison?" Demi followed her mother's order. "Pancakes are her favorite."
"Nothing has changed in the breakfast department," Maddie announces, causing me to chuckle.
"She must still be asleep," Dianna's voice replied.
"It's after eleven. She never sleeps in this late."
"A lot has changed in the sleeping department."
As if on cue, a tired, younger Maddie with messy hair came stumbling in, clutching tightly onto a blue teddy bear.
"What was wrong with my hair?" Maddie shrills. "Did I not know how to use a brush? And what is with that bear?"
"That was Mr. Muffin," Demi tells her.
"Mr. who?"
"Mr. Muffin," Demi repeats, slowly enunciating the four syllables.
Maddie blinks at her.
"Where in the world did I get that name from?"
"You said that he reminded you of a blueberry muffin."
"Oh, geez," Maddie's cheeks tint pink as she buries her face in her palms. "Mom, exactly how many times did you drop me on my head as a baby?"
"Morning, sleeping beauty," Demi greeted her younger sister.
Maddie yawned, offering a lazy wave as she claimed a seat at the dining room table.
"You feeling okay, babygirl?" Dianna's tone was worried. "You still look tired."
"Couldn't sleep," Maddie mumbled.
Demi pauses the video.
"I remember this video now."
"How come I don't?" Dallas inquires.
"So why couldn't I sleep?" Maddie questions.
Demi tries to suppress her laugh with a cough.
"Dallas, you probably don't remember it because you choose not to. Maddie, you couldn't sleep because," she pauses, seemingly thinking of an answer. "the walls were thin."
Dallas and Maddie look at each other with mirrored expressions of confusion. In my head, however, what Demi said has clicked, and I erupt with a fit of laughter.
"I think Sierra gets it," Demi says.
I nod, struggling to catch my breath as I lean my head on her shoulder.
"I get it," I confirm once my breathing has stabilized.
"I don't," Dallas and Maddie frown in unison.
"Do you?" I crane my neck to look at Dianna and Eddie.
They both shake their heads with furrowed eyebrows.
"I don't even remember this video," Dianna informs.
"Wilmer?" I turn towards him.
He nods, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards.
"Why do you three understand it and the rest of us don't?" Maddie asks.
"The bigger question is: Why do you understand it?" Demi turns to me.
"You said that the walls were thin."
"But you're twelve," she laughs. "You should not know what that means."
"I'm special. What's your excuse?"
"Just press play and watch, your cheekiness."
I chuckle as I resume the video.
"Why couldn't you sleep?" Dianna approached her youngest daughter.
"Dallas kept me up."
"I didn't keep you up."
Maddie looked up at the camera and nodded.
"You were being loud."
"Oh my gosh," Dallas raises a hand to her mouth.
"You remember it now?"
She nods.
"Do we have to watch the rest?"
"Duh," Demi laughs.
I shush them.
"Loud?" Demi arched an eyebrow at Dallas.
"Her and her friend," Maddie nodded.
"Her friend?"
"Some guy," Maddie yawned again.
"Babygirl, why don't you go back upstairs and try to get some sleep? I'll put your pancakes in the fridge for later," Dianna suggested.
With a groggy nod, Maddie toddled back upstairs. Dianna shot a glare at Dallas.
"Mom, I have no idea what she was talking about," Dallas tried to convince her.
"You better not," Dianna pointed a finger at her before walking offscreen.
"No idea? Seriously?" Demi snorted.
"Oh, shut up, Demi."
"Maybe you should take your own advice the next time you want to fuck your boyfriend when our little sister is in the next room over."
"It's not funny, Demi."
"Yes, it totally is," she chuckled. "Or to better imitate you: Yes! Yes! Yes!" she suggestively exclaimed with a smirk, her tone elevating with each word.
"I am going to kill you!"
The camera clattered onto the ground.
"What happened after that?" I remove the disc.
"I threw Demi into the pool," Dallas answers.
"And the water was freezing cold, might I add."
"How many of these are we watching?" Maddie wonders as I choose the next disc.
"Well, my IV bag still isn't empty, and we have to wait for my doctor to make another appearance, so-"
"We'll be here for another five hours just waiting for that pathetic excuse for a doctor," I deadpan.
"Dallas, you corrupted my innocent mind," Maddie jokes. "How dare you?"
"Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but your innocence didn't stand a chance against Dallas and me," Demi giggles.
"True that."
"Dallas, you do know that you're not allowed to have cameras here, right?" Demi smirked.
Although she had the same black hair as the previous videos, she looked different. A healthy kind of different.
"Where was this recorded at?" I inquire.
"Timberline Knolls," Demi responds. "The treatment center that I went to. Dallas snuck a camera in."
"Of course she did," I laugh.
"Does it look like I care? I'd love to see someone try to tell me to turn it off. Now, Demi, spin for the camera."
"Why?" Demi giggled as she spun.
"Because you have curves now, little sister."
Demi rolled her eyes at the pet name before nervously biting her lower lip.
"Is that a good thing?"
"It's a hell of a good thing. If I was a guy, I'd totally fuck you."
"Because that's so not weird or anything," Demi sarcastically added.
"It's Wilmer's job, anyway," Dallas shrugged.
"Oh my gosh," Demi's cheeks flushed. "How many times do I have to tell you that there is nothing going on between us?"
"Well, what happened?" I ask with a slight smirk.
"You should go down to the children's play area and stay there," Demi suggests.
I bite my tongue, resisting the urge to laugh.
"Maybe not yet, but I give it a year tops."
There was a pause before Demi broke it.
"So," she was nervous again, her insecurities evident by her facial expression and soft, hesitant tone. "You don't think I look fat?" she nearly whispered, her head bowed.
"Of course not! Is that what you think? Do they not inject you people with some common sense around here?" Dallas tried to lighten the mood, causing a soft chuckle to escape Demi's lips.
Dallas gave Demi a one-armed hug before claiming a seat in the visiting area. Dianna and Eddie both gave Demi massive hugs, both of their eyes brimming with tears, both whispering something in their daughter's ear. Maddie was the last one, wrapping her arms around her older sister's waist and clinging to her for dear life.
"I missed you, too, babygirl," Demi laughed. "Have you been staying strong for me?" Demi scooped her little sister up onto her hip and claimed a chair.
Maddie nodded.
"I've been staying strong for you, too," Demi bopped Maddie's nose with the tip of her index finger, causing the younger girl to giggle. "Speaking of which," Demi looked up at her family. "My therapist gave me some really good news earlier today."
"Are you getting more privileges or something?"
"This is better than any privileges," Demi grinned. "I'm-"
"Demi?"
Dallas turned the camera to Wilmer, who had just arrived. Demi placed Maddie in the chair beside her before rising to her feet. She flung her arms around Wilmer's neck, and his arms snaked around her waist, lifting her up just enough to where her feet hovered above the floor.
"I didn't think you'd make it," she greeted.
He just chuckled, not saying a word as one hand moved up to reassuringly caress her lower back.
"I take back what I said," Dallas announced. "I now give it six months tops."
"What are you-"
"Nothing," Demi interrupted Wilmer while flipping Dallas off.
Demi returned to her previous chair with Wilmer sitting beside her and Maddie sitting in her lap.
"So, as I was saying-"
"Demi," an official-looking woman with her blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail entered the room. "Did you tell them?" she grinned.
"I'm trying to, Lily."
"Whoops," the blonde woman giggled.
Demi playfully rolled her eyes.
"Just hurry up and say it, Demi," Dallas urged.
"I'm being discharged in less than a week, on Friday."
"Seriously?"
Demi nodded. Dallas squealed, hurrying from her seat to hug her sister.
"I am so proud of you."
"As we all are," Eddie added.
"So, you're coming home?" Maddie cutely inquired.
"Very soon, babygirl," Demi nodded while smiling.
"Yay!" Maddie exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Demi's neck.
Demi giggled at her little sister's enthusiasm.
"Are you nervous at all?" Dallas hesitantly questioned.
"Of course. I'm nervous, and I'm scared. I worry that I'm going to relapse as soon as I leave here, but I also know that relapse is just a part of recovery. I've learned how to fight the urges, and I now have the tools that I need to stay strong, and I plan to use them."
"You've made remarkable progress since you first got here, Demi," Lily praised. "Are you going to tell them what you told me about what you plan to do after you're released?"
"I want to share my story. I want to be open and honest with everyone, especially with my fans. I want to help and inspire those who have gone through and are currently going through similar ordeals as myself. I want to be the voice that changes the way that people think about eating disorders, self-harm, and everything else. I want to be the change that I wish to see in the world. And, uh," she rummaged inside the pocket of her sweat pants, removing a folded up sheet of lined paper. "I know that this isn't much, but I think it might be a good place to start," she passed the sheet to Dallas.
"Are these song lyrics?"
Demi nodded, twiddling with her thumbs.
"These are really good, Dems," Dallas handed the paper to her mom. "I think you might just have a hit right there."
"I don't know about all of that," Demi chuckled, as if Dallas' statement was absurd. "But it might help some of my fans."
"It would help even more people if you released it as a single," Eddie points out.
"You think it has the potential to be a single?" Demi raised her eyebrows, her tone astonished.
"Without a doubt," he handed the song lyrics to Wilmer.
"What's the song called, Demi?" Dianna wondered.
"Skyscraper," Demi softly smiled.
"Can you sing some of it, Dem-Dem?" Maddie rested her head against her sister's shoulder.
"Um, maybe a little bit, I guess," Demi mumbled before clearing her throat and softly singing the chorus of the song.
"I threw it all away," Demi mumbles. "All of those months and years spent recovering are just gone."
"Hey," I bump her shoulder with mine. "No, they're not. Those tools that you were talking about? You just need to be reminded about them."
A knock at the door gains our attention.
"It's about time someone showed up," I greet her doctor.
His gaze flickers to me for a split second before returning to Demi.
"Have you reconsidered your thoughts on your recovery?"
"Here?" she arches an eyebrow. "No. Elsewhere? Definitely. Now, could you please go get a nurse or someone to remove this IV so that I can leave?" she holds up her wrist, as if proving to him that the IV is still there.
He frowns, his gaze quickly skimming over her cuts.
"Now," she assertively snaps.
He silently scurries out of the room. She releases an irritated breath.
"We specialize in self-harm," she mocks. "Bull fucking shit. If you did, you wouldn't be staring at my cuts like that, you ignorant prick."
I laugh.
"What are you laughing at?"
"I get scolded because I call him an asshole to his face, yet you go ahead and curse him out behind his back."
She says nothing as my laughter ceases.
"Elsewhere?" Maddie furrows her eyebrows, changing the subject.
"Yeah, I, um," she looks up at Eddie and Dianna. "I want, no, I need to go back to Timberline Knolls."
"That's your decision, Demi," Dianna tells her in a surprisingly calm tone.
"I need help," Demi nods. "And I trust that place. They helped me immensely the first time, so I don't see a reason as to why they wouldn't be able to get me back on track with my recovery."
Dallas hugs Demi from the side, squeezing her gently.
"But first, if it's okay with you guys and my manager," she reaches behind Dallas, searching through her purse and pulling out a piece of notebook paper. "I want to release this song for my fans before I check into treatment."
"Can I read it?" I hesitantly ask.
She nods, handing me the sheet. I skim the lyrics quickly.
You must be a miracle worker
Swearing up and down you can fix what's been broken
Please don't get my hopes up
Baby tell me how could you be so cruel
It's like you're pouring salt on my cuts
Baby I just ran out of band-aids
I don't even know where to start
'Cause you can bandage the damage
You never really can fix a heart
"Hauntingly beautiful," I say in a posh accent.
She gently shoves me as I pass the lyrics around for everyone else to read.
"I think we can get this released before you're admitted," Eddie informs.
"Can I have two dollars?" I randomly ask.
Dianna flashes me a quizzical expression before handing me two dollar bills from her pocket.
"Gracias."
I slide off of the bed with the two dollars in one hand and Demi's phone in the other.
"Demi, I'm taking your phone," I let her know as I'm walking out the door.
I make my way down the hallway, my eyes feasted on Demi's phone as I open up the internet and type Timberline Knolls into the search box. As it loads, I find that I have reached my destination. Scanning the various snack items, I find what I came here for. I slide one of the two dollars into the slot as the machine whirls and swallows the money. Returning my attention to Demi's phone, I click the first link before typing in the letter and number on the vending machine for the item that I want. I repeat my actions on the vending machine as I scroll through the website, learning about the facility.
"You got Cheetos, and you didn't bring me any?" Maddie jokingly scoffs as I enter the room. "Mom, I need a dollar," she rises from her chair and walks around the bed to her mom.
As she leaves, I toss one of the snack bags at Demi.
"Why did you get me a bag?"
I just shrug, reclaiming my seat beside Demi on the bed. Reminding myself that I need to recover, that I need to start eating, I rip the small bag open.
"Why Cheetos?" Demi wonders, also opening her bag.
"Pre eating disorder favorite."
She nods as I hesitantly remove one of the crunchy chips. Taking a deep yet nearly silent breath, I pop the piece of food into my mouth. The taste is familiar, as it was one of my favorite snacks as a small child, yet also foreign, as I haven't had one in years. I glance at Demi. With a slightly disgusted expression, she tosses a Cheeto into the air before catching it with her mouth.
"How did you just do that?"
"Do what?" she turns to me.
"That thing," I drag my index finger upwards through the air before bringing it back down.
"Oh, you mean the whole catching the chip with my mouth thing? It's easy," she giggles. "Try it."
"I have a feeling that this is going to end badly," I tilt my head upwards, removing another chip before tossing it into the air.
It misses my mouth completely, bounces off of my cornea, and lands on the bed.
"Cheese dust in my eye!" I shrill. "Cheese dust in my eye!"
"Too bad we don't have any soda," Demi jokes.
I shoot her a horrified look before cupping the side of my face where my injured, watering eye is.
"Tried to catch a chip with you mouth?" Maddie guesses as she reenters the room.
"Uh huh," I nod.
"Been there, done that, learned my lesson," she returns to her chair.
After a few moments, my eye finally stops watering.
"Never again," I mutter. "You make that look easy, Demi."
"I also make this look easy," she places her bag on the bed before planting her palms face down in front of her.
You know how most people can only bend their elbows outward? Yeah, well, Demi can also bend her elbows inward.
"That's not normal," I shudder. "Arms are not supposed to be able to bend that way."
"Perks of being double jointed," she smirks, tossing another Cheeto into her mouth.
"So, you're like a human pretzel?" I also eat another chip.
"Yeah, I guess so."
"So, you're like really, really flexible?"
"Ye- if you turn that into something perverted, I will slap you."
"Too late," I stifle a laugh.
"I hope you choke on a Cheeto."
"I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy," I dramatically place a hand over my heart.
A nurse knocks on the door.
"I'm here to remove your IV and disinfect those cuts of yours," she warmly smiles, as if reassuring us that she's not judgmental or anything.
"Finally," Demi chuckles as Maddie, Dallas, and Wilmer move to allow the nurse to pull her cart beside Demi's bed.
"You're going to feel a slight tug," she advises as she swiftly removes the IV from Demi's wrist.
"The next part's gonna sting like a bitch, isn't it?"
"Honestly? Some of those cuts on your left arm appear to be pretty deep, so yeah," she offers a weak, sympathetic smile.
She drenches a square cotton pad in some liquid.
"I'll start on your right arm."
"You seem to be rather... calm considering the situation," Demi observes.
"Well, how should I be reacting?"
"I don't know. Most people would be judging me for cutting myself. You seem used to it."
"I see similar cases to this every day. Not only that but I also have a history of self-mutilation during my teenage and college years."
"Really? If you don't mind me asking, what helped you stop?"
The nurse looks up at Demi for a split second before returning her attention to her work.
"My husband, well, then boyfriend, really supported me during my recovery, still does to this day. In fact, he was the one who begged me to seek help in the first place back when I was in my twenties."
"How long have you two been married?"
"Forty-three years."
I lowly whistle but do not speak a word.
"You don't even look a day over forty."
"Thank you, sweetheart," the nurse chuckles. "But I am, in fact, many days over forty," she pauses. "When people hear that I've been married for forty-three years, you wanna know what their reactions are?"
"Yeah?"
"They either think we're insane, want to know some supposed secret, or get this crazy idea that our marriage is and has been a walk in the park," she shakes her head. "No relationship is easy. If it is, then it's not a good, healthy relationship. A good relationship is one that is worth fighting for. The other person in that relationship? Well, that's your best friend, the one who you feel as if you can share your deepest, darkest secrets with, the one who you're always thinking about and hate to spend even just one day away from, the one who makes you want to rip your hair out but also gives you butterflies at the same time. My relationship with my husband has been anything but easy, especially when we first started seeing each other."
"What happened?"
"Well, I was going through my own personal struggles at the time with my self-harming and eating disorder. He had commitment issues and wasn't too fond of settling down. I wanted a real relationship. I wanted to be loved, and I wanted someone to give me the love that I couldn't give myself. He wanted to be in a relationship with me, he truly did, but he quickly became fed up with my constant lying and inability to emotionally open up to him, so he looked elsewhere."
"He cheated on you?"
The nurse nods.
"I blamed myself for months and months and months. I wallowed in my own self-pity and spiraled even more out of control. It got to the point where I was on the verge of life and death. It took being hospitalized and being force fed through a tube in my stomach for me to finally open my eyes and see that I was throwing my life away."
"Now, who does all of that remind you of, Demetria?" I chime.
She flips me off.
"You can relate?" the nurse looks up at Demi.
"You could say that."
The nurse's gaze flickers to Wilmer before returning to Demi.
"Hold onto him, dear, and don't let go. Strap yourself in for the long haul. If you feel like you have what I described a good relationship to be, if the one you love is like I described, you'd be a fool to let him go."
"But what if he did something really stupid and you can't trust him again because of it?"
"Do you think I could trust my husband right away again? Of course not. But I knew that our love was worth fighting for. I knew that we had something special. I knew that he was truly sorry and remorseful. Let me ask you something: he only made one mistake, correct?"
Demi nods.
"Look at your arms. Each and every one of these lines, both the new and the old, are mistakes in your mind, yes?"
Demi nods again.
"He stayed with you through it all, for as long as you allowed him to. He made one mistake. Only one. Do you remember the pain that you felt brought on by his mistake?"
"Of course."
"It was terrible, wasn't it? So terrible that you would much rather have died than live another day suffering through that unbearable pain? A pain so terrible that it took away your desire to breathe, to live, to enjoy life? Now, multiply that pain by one hundred. Why? Because the pain that he felt seeing you make your mistake," she gestures to Demi's arms, "is greater than the pain that you felt seeing him make his. Because he saw you make your mistake, and he still stuck by you, he still loved you regardless, and he still forgave you even though you played with the fragile trust that you two shared. The pain that you have now is the pain that he felt when you made your first mistake. It's a pain that feels as if somebody is stabbing you in your heart, twisting the blade deeper, and eventually gouging your heart right out of your chest. For every single line that you carved into your skin, for every single time that you skipped a meal, for every single time that you forced yourself to throw up, embed that knife deeper into your chest and give it another twist."
My jaw drops at the fierceness in this woman's words, the fire behind her eyes. I quietly rise to my feet and shuffle towards everyone else waiting in the corner of the room.
"She's good," I whisper to Wilmer, referring to the nurse.
"She's damn good."
"Go over there," I urge.
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Go or I'll find a hot doctor to sweep Demi off of her feet."
"That's not funny."
"Good thing I'm not joking. It shouldn't be too difficult to find one. I mean, just observe the secretaries and take note at who they adjust their shirts to show more cleavage for and-"
"Okay, okay, I'm going."
"Now," the nurse starts talking again, having just finished wrapping Demi's right arm. "You'll probably feel some stinging, possibly a burning sensation," she warns as she soaks another piece of cotton to treat Demi's left arm.
"Oh, joy," Demi dryly cheers.
"Do you have a high pain tolerance?"
"I like to think so, but I have a feeling that you're about to prove me wrong."
"I usually do," the nurse chuckles. "Lay with your head at the foot of the bed so that I can have better access to your arm."
Demi follows the instructions as Wilmer approaches her bedside.
"What are you doing?"
"Sierra made me come over here."
"Oh, so you didn't come over here because you wanted to?" she jokingly arches an eyebrow. "Thanks."
He chuckles, laying beside her on the bed.
"Ready, Demi?" the nurse inquires.
"No, but I don't really have much of a choice."
The nurse begins to disinfect the more shallow cuts lower on Demi's arm.
"I'm sorry," Demi whispers to Wilmer.
"For what?"
"Everything. I didn't realize how much I was hurting you. I was only thinking about how much pain you caused me, and that overshadowed everything else. I didn't even stop to consider that maybe you weren't the cause of my relapse. I just needed someone or something to blame other than myself, and you were an easy target."
"We hurt each other. We have acknowledged it. Now what?"
"I feel like I'm in one of those sappy romance movies," I whisper aloud.
"Nah, this is totally a soap opera," Dallas argues.
"We could have our own reality television show or 'based on a true story' movie or something," Maddie chimes in.
"We'd be rich," I say without thinking. "Oh, wait, we already are rich. We'd be richer."
"Now," Demi begins to speak. "We move on. Whatever we have, whether you want to call it true love or God's plan or fate or whatever, I'm willing to fight for it if you are."
"Why not give up? Throw in the towel and forget about everything we ever had?"
I open my mouth to curse him out for even suggesting such a stupid idea, but Dallas clamps both of her hands against my lips.
"Let them have their moment," she whispers into my ear.
"Honestly? Because it's been pure hell without you."
Dallas releases me, thankfully.
"Time for another Glee moment," I mumble to myself, scrolling through Demi's playlist, finding the song that came to mind.
"Why do I hear music? Sierra, what are you doing?" Demi accuses.
"Why do you just assume that it's me?"
"I know you... and I know this song," she recognizes the music.
"Well, I would hope so, considering that it's in your playlist. I'm skipping to the chorus, just, you know, in case you wanna have a sing-along or something."
Demi and Wilmer both quietly sing the lyrics to each other, which causes a smile to form onto my face. And no, I'm not being a mushy, sappy romantic. Shut up.
"I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up
And when you're needing your space
To do some navigating
I'll be here patiently waiting to see what you find
'Cause even the stars they burn
Some even fall to the Earth
We've got a lot to learn
God knows we're worth it
No I won't give up"
Suddenly, Demi hisses.
"Shit, that fucking hurts," she glances at her left arm.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," the nurse murmurs. "Roll your sleeve up."
I watch as the woman submerges more of the cotton, preparing to clean Demi's deepest cut on her arms, a deep gash that travels the length of her arm from her shoulder to right below her Stay tattoo. The wound is slightly jagged, as if Demi stopped in places before continuing.
"Ow," Demi's arm tenses as her body instinctively jolts away from the nurse, away from the source of the pain.
Wilmer wraps his arms around her and strokes her hair in a reassuring and comforting manner.
"Shh, nena, it's almost over."
She whimpers, burying her face in Wilmer's shirt as her left arm trembles within the nurse's grip.
"Why does that hurt?" Maddie quietly wonders to me.
"What do you mean?"
"Why does that hurt but making the cut itself doesn't?"
"Because you're numb when you make the cut. It's like you're drowning, and then suddenly you can breathe again. It's just complicated, Maddie," I sigh, knowing that she won't ever be able to understand and feeling thankful that she won't.
The nurse dabs Demi's cuts with some kind of gel before wrapping her arm like she did with the other one.
"Alright," she smiles at Demi. "You're free to leave whenever."
"Great. Thank you."
When the nurse leaves, Demi heaves a sigh, sitting up and swinging her legs so that they dangle off of the side of the bed. She flexes her arms, her face contorting into an expression of slight discomfort.
"So, did you have fun?" I cheekily question, trying to lighten the mood.
"Oh, yeah, totally. It's so much fun feeling as if someone is pouring acid on your open wounds," she sarcastically replies, rising to her feet.
I wince at the mere thought.
"Here," Dallas hands Demi the clothes that she was wearing when she arrived.
"Thanks."
Demi locks herself in the ensuite bathroom. I approach Wilmer and place a hand on his shoulder.
"If you hurt her again, I will gladly castrate you," I smile sweetly before sauntering towards the bathroom. "Demi, hurry up," I knock on the door.
"Sierra," she opens the door. "Shut up."
She grabs her purse from the floor.
"My phone?" she holds her hand out, palm up.
"Oh yeah," I return her phone to her. "I changed your ringtone," I grin.
"To what?" she eyes me suspiciously.
I only grin wider. She turns to Wilmer.
"Call my phone, please."
He nods.
"Please let me take you out of the darkness and into the light
'Cause I have faith in you that you're gonna make it through another night
Stop thinking about the easy way out
There's no need to go and blow the candle out
Because you're not done
You're far too young
And the best is yet to come
So just give it one more try to a lullaby and turn this up on the radio
If you can hear me now
I'm reaching out to let you know that you're not alone
And if you can't tell
I'm scared as hell
'Cause I can't get you on the telephone
So just close your eyes
Oh honey here comes a lullaby
Your very own lullaby"
"And you were thinking that I'd choose something raunchy," I snort. "Now, Dallas, call her, so she can hear her general ringtone."
"Is this the raunchy one?" Demi arches an eyebrow.
"Don't lose who you are in the blur of the stars
Seeing is deceiving
Dreaming is believing
It's okay not to be okay
Sometimes it's hard to follow your heart
But tears don't mean you're losing
Everybody's bruising
There's nothing wrong with who you are"
"Ha!" I stick my tongue out Demi.
"Okay," she playfully rolls her eyes. "So, I underestimated your level of maturity. Sue me."
"Can we leave now?" Maddie groans. "I'm not a fan of hospitals."
"I agree," Demi scrunches up her nose.
Wilmer grabs the bag with the videos and DVD player while I toss the two half-empty Cheetos bags into the nearby trash can.
As we all silently walk through the corridors, each deep in our own thoughts, I can't help but feel as if my life is about to change dramatically, as if I'm starting a new chapter, turning over a new leaf.
Will it change for the better? The worse? I guess I'll find out.
ns 15.158.61.42da2
