Even Heroes Have Scars

[34] Nightmare

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Demi's P.O.V.

After my fight with Ansley, I was extremely hurt. All I did was fuck shit up while trying to mend our wounds that dug deep within us, wrapping it's crippled fingers around our souls and pulled us up to the surface of the real world, reality, the place where happy endings were nothing but fairy tales, even if they were placed in the ideal life, the life I did not have. I did not have the ideal life I wanted without Ansley, without her to create such a fairy tale ending that someone could write about and put in a book that would one day grow faded and dusty, but never forgotten. She would never be forgotten.

I'd texted her, even contemplated the suggestion Dallas gave me of calling her, but it seemed impossible. If she didn't answer my text, why would she answer my call? I wasn't important, anyway. I didn't know what I was thinking. She probably unfriended me.

Wilmer had come over Saturday morning and asked if he could go with me to rehearsal. Every day that week, he had gone to rehearsal with me. After rehearsal ended today, which was Saturday, he asked if I wanted to go shopping with him, which I did. At least he didn't complain. He offered it, though.

Perks of dating me.

"It's the last day of August. Let's go downtown tonight," Wilmer suggested.

On the last Saturdays of every month, there were performances, light shows, dances, sales at stores, and fancy dinner restaurants that ran until midnight that Wilmer usually wanted to take me to. I never objected unless I had something else to do, which I never did.

His hand slithered into mine in the car as I wore a dress and he wore a suit, no tie. It was almost dark by the time we got there. They had the roads closed so that people could walk or perform in the streets, not just the sidewalks, so it was a good thing my heels were comfortable, as we had to park in a parking garage near the barricades that blocked off the street.

As we roamed down the sidewalk, my fingertips floated out in the air, fluttering through branches and caressing leaves softly with my newly painted fingernails.

"What are you thinking about?" he slung his arm around me and pulled me closer.

"Nothing," I faked the smile he always fell for.

"You look beautiful, Hermosa," he smiled at me.

"Thanks," I mumbled softly with my head on his shoulder. "You look good."

For some reason, I could not pick apart the reasons why I did not love Wilmer. Was I also scared of men? Lately, I had been tense around both Wilmer and Eddie, not to mention Hayden, the boy who thought I was competition, the prize being Ansley. But why was Ansley the prize? Was it safe to admit that I was bisexual? Was that the true answer I was settling for? A change in sexuality? No, of course not. There was no way Ansley changed my sexuality that quickly. I mean, a girl couldn't change my sexuality. Impossible. It was impossible, right?

"Are you sure you aren't thinking about anything?" Wilmer glanced at me as he dodged people.

"Mhmm," I nodded tiredly. "Why?"

"You've been kind of quiet for someone who just got forgiven by their best friend."

"I'm not thinking about anything but how lucky I am to have you, baby," I smiled and kissed him softly.

Likely story. But he didn't need to know that part.

We went to dinner, and unlike almost people in the restaurant, Wilmer and I drank water, whilst everyone else was drinking some sort of wine or champagne. It was a very fancy place with chandeliers hanging above every table and each table had a tablecloth with designs on them. The walls were covered in black and white paintings and the walls were red. It was the restaurant Wilmer took me on our first date. That memory made me smile slightly, but then wince.