(Sierra's POV)
"Class, this is Sierra De La Garza," my science teacher introduces me.
I manage a small wave and an even smaller smile.
"Are you emo like your fatass of a sister? Or do you just throw up whatever you eat?" a girl mockingly questions.
I have a feeling that she's talking about neither Maddie nor Dallas.
"That's enough, Miranda," the teacher scolds without much conviction; she's probably wondering the same thing.
How does everyone here seem to know more about Demi than I do?
Miranda rolls her eyes and watches me as I claim my seat at the back of the room.
The class goes by slowly, as does each one after that. Word gets around rather quickly that I'm not only the new student but that I'm related to both Maddie and Demi. Apparently, that's huge news.
Everyone else is at lunch except for me. I decided to use the time to research what I've been silently wondering for the past three months. I log onto a computer and double-click on the Mozilla Firefox icon.
As it loads, my doubt creeps to the surface. Why am I even doing this in the first place? Isn't it, like, a violation of privacy or something? Everybody has been saying that now is not the time for me to know, but I want to know. They can't keep hiding things from me. I deserve to know!
The browser finally loads, and I inhale a deep breath, trying to banish all the negative, doubting thoughts. I type 'Demi Lovato' into the search box and press the enter key. I try to tell myself that nothing will come up except for maybe a Facebook page or something, but deep down, I think I know that's not all I'll find.
The first link that pops up is a Wikipedia page. I know for a fact that if you're not famous, you don't have a Wikipedia page. I click on the link and am greeted by a picture of Demi with a caption below it reading 'Lovato at the Fox Upfronts in New York City, May 2013'. That was only a few months ago.
It feels as if I've been slapped in the face. I honestly can't breathe. I'm beyond shocked. I read the entire article over and over word-for-word. My stomach twists, and I have the sudden urge to puke. How could they have lied to my face for almost three months? A feeling of betrayal washes over me.
So for the past three months, I've been living with a celebrity who has been through the same shit that is slowly killing me? Nobody thought to mention that to me? It all makes more sense now!
"Do you have any siblings?" she asked me.
I shook my head no in response.
"Do you?" I questioned.
She nodded with a grin on her face.
"I have two older half-sisters, and we're all really close. Dallas is twenty-five, and Demi is twenty-one. Do you know Demi Lovato?" she randomly asked.
I shook my head no once again. A smirk formed on her lips.
"This should be fun then!" she said in a slight squeal.
I wouldn't have described meeting Demi as fun...
"Is she a fan or something?" Demi questioned her family.
I remember wondering what the hell she meant by a fan, but now it's clear.
Now I know why she sounded so much like the girl on the CDs. It's because she is the girl on the CDs! I know exactly what the 'Stay Strong' tattoo means. I know that she also has one on her shoulder that reads 'now I'm a warrior'. I know that she's the singer behind the lyrics of my favorite song and that the song is titled I Hate You, Don't Leave Me. I know that she cut herself for the first time when she was eleven and went to rehab in 2010 after punching her backup dancer.
I also know from what I saw on her wrist that she has now relapsed and is also possibly returning to her bulimic or anorexic ways.
I grab my phone that Dallas bought for me from my purse. I download all four of Demi's albums and shut down the computer, then heave my backpack onto my back and walk out of the computer room with my anger boiling.
I walk out the front door of the school just as the bell rings to release everyone from lunch. Upon exiting school grounds, I break into a sprint, feeling suddenly grateful that we only live, like, twenty minutes from the school.
No cars are in the driveway when I arrive. I enter the silent house.
"Hello?" I call out, not exactly expecting a reply.
"Sierra?" Demi's voice questions.
I enter the living room and find her on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket.
"Are you seriously cold right now? It's like eighty degrees in here, Demi!" I exclaim, realizing that it is indeed way too warm in here.
"Sorry, I got cold," she mumbles, looking down at the floor.
I'm about to question why she looks guilty and why the hell she's apologizing. That's when the light bulb goes off in my head. If somebody is suffering from an eating disorder and drops down to a low enough weight, they'll constantly be cold because they have no body fat to keep them warm. I've felt like that before, but I can handle the cold; Demi obviously can't.
"You don't like the cold, do you?" I question in what I'm hoping is a nonchalant tone.
She shakes her head no in response, meeting my eyes with a slightly suspicious expression.
"Why did you relapse, Demi?" I blurt out, not even expecting to ask that question.
She obviously wasn't either, for her eyes grow wide.
"What are you talk-"
"I finally built up the nerve to Google you."
She shifts her gaze down to the floor and doesn't respond.
"For three months, I wondered why the hell I felt like everybody was whispering behind my back. For three months, I struggled with whether or not I should just figure out who you are. For three months, I felt as if everything was like some inside joke that was being kept from me. When I saw your cuts earlier this morning, I thought that your self-harming was the reason that I wasn't allowed to know who you are. I thought Dianna and Eddie were ashamed of you or something, but deep down, that theory made no sense because it's obvious that they love you. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that you were and are a famous quadruple threat who has saved billions of lives around the globe and has inspired billions of people with her music," I angrily rant.
She stays silent.
"Damn it, Demi, just say something!" I plead after what feels like a long pause.
I can feel the tears streaming down my cheeks, but I make no effort to wipe them away.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. "When I first met you, I honestly thought that you were nothing but a fan. I acted bitchy to you because of that and because I started losing myself again. I'm losing myself, Sierra. I've been down this road once, and it's terrible, but I can't stop. The one rude comment that somebody says to me always outweighs the dozens of good comments. I cut to release the pain. I take it out on myself. I starve myself and purge the little food that I do eat because I care way too fucking much about what other people think about me," she rambles while sobbing.
I sit down beside her on the couch and engulf her in a hug. We sit there just crying. It pains me because I know she thinks that she's in this alone.
"I didn't know it when I met you, but my favorite song is one of yours," I sheepishly mumble after our hug.
She chuckles and wipes away the tears on her cheeks.
"Really? Which one?"
"I Hate You, Don't Leave Me."
"Do you have a favorite verse or something?"
I nod.
"Well, sing it!" she excitedly exclaims, causing me to laugh.
I nervously swallow.
"I'm addicted to the madness
I'm a daughter of the sadness
I've been here too many times before
Been abandoned and I'm scared now
I can't handle another fall out
I'm fragile, just washed upon the shore294Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1EUSfdH07W
294Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMZMHNxdefG
They forget me
Don't see me
When they love me
They leave me" I sing quietly.
"Why the hell don't you sing more often?" Demi blurts out.
"Because I can't sing," I mutter.
"Are you kidding me? Sierra, that was amazing!"
"You're just saying that."
"Sierra, I was a judge on X Factor last year; if you were horrible at singing, I'd tell you," she deadpans.
A small smile creeps onto my lips. The joking look vanishes from her eyes, and I feel my smile fade.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"I just thought of one of my songs from my debut album. It felt like a cry for help back then. When I got out of rehab, it reminded me of everything that I went through and showed how much I had improved. Now it's more like a cry for help again."
"Which song is it?" I question, grabbing my phone.
"Believe In Me."
"Can I play it?"
"If you want," she says with a shrug.
"I downloaded all of your albums after I discovered the truth," I explain while choosing the song.
"I'm losing myself
Trying to compete
With everyone else
Instead of just being me" Demi's recorded voice sings.
I feel my stomach twist, for I can relate to the lyrics. I swallow the lump in my throat as the song continues.
"Don't know where to turn
I've been stuck in this routine
I need to change my ways
Instead of always being weak"
I can feel my eyes start to tear up. This is all so true. It sounds as if this song was written for me. I realize then that Demi and I are more alike than I could have ever imagined.
"I don't wanna be afraid
I wanna wake up feeling beautiful today
And know that I'm okay
'Cause everyone's perfect in unusual ways
So you see I just wanna believe in me"
The tears leak from my eyes and trail slowly down my cheeks. I know that Demi is watching me, but I don't care. Although this song is painful to listen to, I continue to listen anyway.
"The mirror can lie
Doesn't show you what's inside
And it can tell you you're full of life
It's amazing what you can hide
Just by putting on a smile"
By now, I'm loudly sobbing. I set my phone on the table in fear of dropping it. My hands are shaking.
"I don't wanna be afraid
I wanna wake up feeling beautiful today
And know that I'm okay
'Cause everyone's perfect in unusual ways
So you see I just wanna believe in me
I'm quickly finding out
I'm not about to break down
Not today
I guess I always knew
That I had all the strength to make it through
Not gonna be afraid
I'm going to wake up feeling beautiful today
And know that I'm okay
'Cause everyone's perfect in unusual ways
So you see now I believe in me
Now I believe in me"
Now feeling completely overwhelmed, I run to my room and lock the door behind me. Demi is soon knocking on the door.
"Sierra, are you okay?" she questions.
I grab my blade from my purse.
"Sierra, please answer me," Demi softly begs.
I ignore her and instead enter my bathroom. I can't afford to leak blood onto the white carpet of my bedroom. I don't bother shutting nor locking the bathroom door. I strip out of my clothes and debate on where to cut.
Doesn't matter. Just need a quick release.
Listening to my demons, I stop hesitating and cut myself once on my wrist.
Not enough.
I repeat the process on both wrists, both thighs, and my stomach.
"Sierra, if you don't open this door, I'm getting the key," Demi threatens.
I don't believe her, but I don't care, anyway.
I keep cutting until there is hardly any piece of flesh that isn't red. My blood slowly trickles down my body and starts to pool at my feet. I feel extremely lightheaded. I can barely distinguish the sound of a key turning in a doorknob. The last thing I hear is Demi's gasp as I plunge into a darkness that I hope I never escape from.
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