Even Heroes Have Scars

[94] Without the Love

~ Late April 2018 ~

Demi's P.O.V.

I couldn't stay sober even if I wanted to. I realized that in the middle of the night at Ansley's.

She could hardly look me in the eye, even after our exchange in the car. She made up the couch's bed for me while I dressed myself in the bathroom with clothes from my designated drawer of Ansley's dresser. Jacob emerged from his bedroom and gave a questioning look, unsure of why this situation was occurring this way. I waved him off, of course, respecting Ansley's boundaries of not wanting me to tell her brother. It was completely valid. Part of me wished I hadn't even told my own younger sibling.

He went off to bed, and I found myself feeling like a guest in a place I once called home, standing to the side awkwardly with a pillow I stole from Ansley's bed while she finished garnishing the bed with a blanket from the linen closet.

"Got everything?" she asked me.

I nodded and hesitantly sat on the pull-out. "Yeah, I'm good. Thank you."

She cleared her throat in response. "Well, goodnight."

With that, she exited the room. Not even an I love you. But considering what I was putting her through, I could imagine why maybe she wouldn't feel sincere about saying that anymore. I could never stop loving her, but maybe it was possible for her to stop loving me. After all, I was disposable now. I was damaged goods. The perfect girl she fell in love with wasn't so perfect anymore, a new flaw arising every day. I deserved this.

And after two hours of staring into the abyss while my girlfriend and her brother slept in their respective bedrooms, I dug through my purse to locate the small Ziploc baggie of cocaine. In the bag with it was also some Xanax, my favorite upper-and-downer cocktail to satisfy me for the night. The withdrawal would kill me if I didn't do this.

~ Early May, 2018 ~

Ansley's P.O.V.

I knew Demi wasn't sober. She wasn't even trying to get sober. It had been a week and a half since the intervention with her parents, and she'd spent every single night sleeping on my couch until three days ago, when she went back to L.A. Her mom kept checking in with me, asking how everything was going, if Demi was displaying any withdrawal symptoms yet. Even Dallas warned me of the asshole that Demi could become if she stopped feeding her addiction.

But Demi was completely nonchalant, acting as though she wasn't having cold sweats or night terrors or itching rashes or severe anxiety. No, she was normal. She was the Demi she was in that short span of time between my first and second encounter with her being drunk. And we were okay. Addiction wasn't even spoken of, and neither was her family. In fact, most of our conversations were short and involving my life or her career. I was struggling with songwriting at the moment, as I had very few passionate emotions. So few future-related things were unknown, like how long we'd still be together, who she'd be in the future, and whether or not it was something I could handle. The uncertainty stunned me and forced me to avoid thinking about her at all. Everything was bottling up, rising higher and higher as days went on.

Jacob's P.O.V.

Something was definitely wrong. I could feel the tension in the air whenever I was with my sister and Demi. They were becoming distanced from each other. Maybe I'd be less suspicious if Demi just wasn't around at all rather than Ansley having her sleep on the fucking couch. I needed answers. I needed to know what could possibly drive a wedge between the happiest couple in the world. And anytime I asked Ansley, she brushed it off like I was a gnat swarming around her.

One day at school, it was time for lunch, so I piled some of my books into my locker. Cole leaned against the row of lockers beside mine and waited for me, checking his phone for any texts.