Who Says I Need You Back?(Demi Lovato)

Chapter 6: I Don't Care

Izzie's POV

"He's my husband," Demi said, nervousness showing in her voice.

"Hola," Wilmer added, smiling while nervously tapping his foot on the floor.

"WHAT THE SERIOUS FUCK, YOU GOT REMARRIED AFTER YOU LEFT DAD AND ME? HOW DARE YOU!" I screamed angrily at Demi.

Demi approached me, her hands held out like she was approaching a dog for the first time and she wanted it to smell her. "I was scared you were going to react like this," Demi half-whispered, "but, this man is great, he's really helped me with my recovery. And, I'm madly in love with him. Please don't be mad, he can help our relationship get better, I'm sure of it."

I laughed out loud. "I was joking. I don't give a fuck about your men. You could be sleeping with ten guys and girls a day and I could care less. Now please get out of my room."

Demi's expression changed quickly, a mixture of disappointment, relief, and a lot of sadness, and she nodded and took Wilmer out of the room with her. I got up and shut the door, walking into the bathroom that was part of my room. Damn, this house was bigger than Dad's house. I foraged through the drawers, looking for something sharp. I needed to cut. I found razors for shaving and broke one open by slamming it against the counter. I took out the razors blades and dumped the plastic parts into the trashcan, sticking the extra blades into the bottom drawer underneath a box of makeup.

My hands took the blade on the counter and I held it, looking at the metal. My heart raced a little faster than normal as I grabbed the blade and dragged it against my skin, watching in fascination as the blood oozed slowly out of the uneven cut. I slashed my wrist fifteen times, an all new record, but thankfully afterward I was numbed. My mind was off of Dad's death and how I had disappointed him his last day on this fucked up planet. I shoved the razor blade under the box with the others and patted my wrist with toilet paper until the blood dried. My body dragged to the bed and my heavy legs collapsed onto the fluffy mattress. At least the bed was comfy. I fell asleep right away.

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I was in a white room, all by myself, like usual. The bed was white, the walls were white, the carpet was white, the fan was white, and I was dressed in a white dress.

The sound of a gunshot broke the scene of serenity. Blood splattered everywhere, staining everything in it's path. Then, Dad appeared, lying on the ground, his lifeless eyes staring straight into mine.

"Dad, wake up!" I screamed, shaking him. That only made more blood get onto my hands.

I wiped my hands on the floor and my shirt, but no matter what, the blood was still there, a sign of the death I had caused. If only I hadn't screamed, if only Dad hadn't jumped to save me. He would be alive. I should be dead. He deserves to be alive and I deserve to be dead.

The fan attached to the light began spinning, and it turned into a dark vortex which sucked me in. I began falling and falling and falling in a dark hole. I never stopped falling. And I wiped my hands on my shirt, continuously scratching the wet blood, but it never came off. The blood was always on my hands.

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I woke up, screaming bloody murder. My eyes immediately went to my hands, and I sighed in relief as they were clean. Then, I heard footsteps from across the hallway. Shit, I had woken Demi up. She was going to kill me.

The door to my room opened and Demi and Wilmer appeared at the doorway.

"I'm sorry, Demi," I whimpered. "I'll shut up and go to sleep. You won't even know I'm here. I'm sorry, please don't be mad. I'll be good I swear."

She approached me and I threw my arms up, protecting my face as she outstretched her arms. I opened my eyes, as arms wrapped around my body, pulling me into an embrace.

"Izzie, I'm not going to hurt you. Back then, I was really messed up. I came home high or drunk or both all the time, and sometimes when I came home in the afternoon, it was from my dad's house. And he really got to me. He beat me and it was, it was just awful. And I know it doesn't justify anything, but I got treated for all of that, and I swear to god I will never hurt you again. I'm so so so sorry for the way I treated you," Demi cried, her salty tears streaming down her face.

I let her hug me, my heart still beating fast, and my arms still protecting my face. I started to believe her, but my defense mechanism kicked in, and I pulled away, my knees coming to my chest. Back then she would sometimes come home sober and bruise free, and she would do the exact same thing.

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Flashback

"Hey babygirl, it's mommy!" Mommy said, cheerfully.

I flinched as she put her arms up towards me, my butt still bruised from the whipping I had received yesterday.

"Mommy won't hurt you, I promise. I'm so sorry about yesterday. Mommy got really sick yesterday before she came home and that sickness made mommy evil and mean, but mommy isn't sick today," she said, hugging me. "Please forgive me baby."

I nodded my small head, my loose brown curls slightly bouncing. "It's okay mommy, I forgive you. You promise you won't be sick again?"

Mommy nodded, our pinkies linking in a pinky promise. Dad came in through the garage and embraced us both.

"Hey girlies, watcha up to?" Nick said suspiciously.

"Daddies aren't allowed!" I whispered happily.

Any day that Dad was home was good, because it meant Demi wouldn't beat me. But a day that Dad was home and Demi wasn't angry was the best kinds of days. We were almost like a normal family. It never lasted longer than a day, of course.

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I pulled the covers over my head and buried my face into the pillow.

"Go away please," I whispered, tears streaming out of my eyes. I didn't believe her for one bit when she said she wouldn't hurt me. All of the memories of my abusive mother were all that came to me when I saw Demi's face.

Demi leaned in and hugged my body through the covers, tightening her embrace when she felt me flinch.

"I'm always here if you need anything, feel free to come to me," she responded softly.

I pulled the covers off of my head as I heard her leave the room. Wilmer stood there, watching me with eyes that were full of pity. I hate pity, I don't need pity.

He sat down at the edge of my bed, ruffling my hair, which I didn't really appreciate at all.

"Hey, did you have a nightmare?" he asked softly. I admit I liked Wilmer more than I liked Demi, but that wasn't saying much.

I nodded, sitting up and avoiding eye contact. There was a warmth that radiated off of Wilmer, almost like Dad. My eyes filled with tears as I thought of my Dad, and I dug my nails into my palm to stop the feelings.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Wilmer asked, holding my hand firmly in his as he tried to look me in the eyes.

I shook my head, "No, I don't even know you."

For some odd reason I was really opening up to this Wilmer guy, and it made me nervous, the only people I had ever opened up to had either died or beat me.

He nodded understandingly, "Okay, I understand, but I like you kid. You seem cool. If you ever need help and don't wanna talk to Demi, I'm always here."

I gave him a small smile and he left the room, closing the door behind him.

I guess I had made one friend so far.