But I'm Different (A Demi Lovato Fanfiction)

Chapter: In the Spotlight

Sabrina's P.O.V

It was 9 a.m. and I was not emotionally-or physically-ready for today. The Ellen Show. Live. In front of a massive studio audience. On TV. National TV. With cameras. Real people. Possibly even more paparazzi.

Nope. Not ready.

I groaned and rolled over, trying to melt into the bed. Maybe if I pretended to be invisible, Demi would leave me alone.

No such luck.

The curtains ripped open and sunlight attacked my face like it had a personal vendetta.

"No sunlight! It burns..." I mumbled dramatically, throwing the blanket over my head.

Demi laughed. "C'mon, Sab. We've got a big day. You'll do amazing."

I peeked out. "I don't wanna go. I'm not prepared, Demi. Seriously."

She sat beside me and gently stroked my hair. "I know, baby girl. But we've got this, together. You're brave, even if you don't feel like it yet."

Her words made my chest ache-in a good way. A couple of days ago, I'd finally told her about the thing I'd been carrying alone for years. Mirror-touch synesthesia. She hadn't known. No one really had. I'd been so scared she wouldn't understand, or worse-she'd think I was making it up.

But she didn't.

She listened. She held me when I cried. And she made me feel like less of a freak and more like a human being.

And now here she was, cheering me on like I was about to walk a red carpet.

After some more dramatic groaning and her tugging the covers off me like a villain, I finally sat up. She smirked and walked downstairs, victorious.

I followed-grumpy, sleepy, but kind of okay.

In the kitchen, I stopped dead in my tracks. My favorite: omelette. Still warm, sitting on a plate like it was glowing. I gasped.

"You know me so well," I said, trying not to get emotional over eggs.

"You're easy to please," she smirked.

I inhaled the whole thing like I hadn't eaten in ten years. Afterward, I bolted upstairs to get dressed.

The outfit Demi picked out was actually kinda perfect-black skull vest, skinny jeans, warm grey jacket, Converse, and my favorite little bowler hat. Me, but polished. Still no makeup though. I didn't care how fancy the show was-I wasn't caking my face for anyone.

"Sab! Let's go!" Demi called up.

"Okay okay!" I shouted, jamming in my stud earrings and grabbing my bag. I ran down the stairs like a chaotic tornado.

Demi raised an eyebrow. "There she is. Rock star mode activated."

I smiled. Kinda proud. Kinda still wanting to puke.

The car ride was chaos in the best way-me and Demi screaming along to the radio, windows cracked open, wind tangling our hair. I didn't realize I was grinning until we pulled up to the studio and nerves kicked in.

My stomach twisted, but it wasn't the bad kind. Not like the other day. It was more like butterflies that didn't know where to land. I took a deep breath as we stepped out.

Ellen's team met us right away and guided us through backstage. Everyone was super kind-smiling, handing me water, calling me sweetheart. I felt like a guest, not just a shadow trailing behind Demi.

And then it was time.

We stepped onto the bright, glowy stage. The audience clapped like thunder. I didn't look at them. I couldn't. I looked at Demi instead.

She squeezed my hand and led us over to the big white couch. Ellen greeted us with a warm smile and a big hug-yes, the real Ellen. And she actually hugged me like I was someone.

"So Demi," Ellen said once we were seated, "the fans have questions-and I do too! Who's this beautiful young lady with you?"

Demi looked at me, beaming. "This is Sabrina. I recently adopted her. She's... she's amazing. Strong. Smart. Hilarious. And she has a heart bigger than this whole studio."

The crowd clapped again, louder. I felt my cheeks flush.

Ellen smiled at me kindly. "Sabrina, how are you feeling today?"

I laughed nervously. "Um... terrified?"

Everyone laughed with me, not at me. I relaxed just a bit.

"She's being brave just being here," Demi added, glancing at me. "And she's got something really important to share."

I hesitated, fingers tangled in each other. Then I spoke.

"I have a condition called mirror-touch synesthesia," I said quietly. "It means... when I see someone being hurt or touched, I feel it. Like, physically. If someone gets slapped, it feels like I'm getting slapped. My brain can't really tell the difference between what's mine and what's not."

The crowd went quiet, listening.

"I didn't know what it was for years," I continued. "I just thought I was weird. Like something was wrong with me. But it's real. It's rare, and it makes life really intense sometimes... but I'm learning how to live with it."

Ellen nodded. "That sounds incredibly overwhelming. But also-superhuman, almost."

I smiled shyly. "Yeah. I guess it kinda is."

"She told me about it just the other day," Demi added, her voice softer now. "And I realized how much she's been carrying on her own. I'm just honored she let me in."

I blinked fast, trying not to tear up. Ellen leaned over and put a hand on mine.

"Well, Sabrina," she said warmly, "I think I speak for everyone when I say-we're really glad you're here."

The audience erupted again, and this time I looked up. I really looked. Smiles everywhere. Not one hateful face. Not one reason to run.

Just love.

After the interview, Ellen surprised me with a care package-books about synesthesia, sensory tools, and even a little weighted blanket that looked like a galaxy. I almost cried. Okay, I did cry.

On the way home, I was quiet. Not because I was upset. Just... overwhelmed in the best kind of way.

"You okay?" Demi asked gently as we pulled into the driveway.

I nodded. "I actually feel... good. Like, really good."

She smiled. "You were incredible up there."

"Thanks for standing beside me."

"Always."

Later that night, after brushing my teeth and getting into my comfiest PJs, I curled up on the couch next to her. She was half asleep, her arm already around me.

"You proud of me?" I whispered.

"More than you'll ever know," she whispered back.

And for the first time in forever, I believed her.

Because maybe I wasn't just surviving anymore.
Maybe I was starting to live.