Haze | Demi Lovato

8

Demi

The next morning, I opened my eyes dully, feeling the headache from the alcohol I'd drunk last night. I looked at my wrists. Thankfully they were clean. I knew if Wilmer ever found out I had relapsed it would be the end of our marriage. I walked downstairs and found Wilmer sitting on the couch, watching the news and drinking coffee in his pajamas. I grimaced as I remember how I used to sneak up on him, and attack him with kisses whenever I could on mornings like this. Instead, I walked past him and made a cup for myself, sitting at the kitchen counter. I hated that this was happening. I hated what our relationship had become.

"Are you hungry?"

I wanted to throw up right now. "Not really."

"What are you doing today?"

I sighed and sipped my tea. "I have a few things to do around here, then I have therapy at one."

"What do you have to do around here?"

I bit my lip, knowing he wouldn't be happy with my answer. "I have to throw all of my stashes away."

His wrist flicked, and I yelped, flinching back when his coffee cup smashed into the sink, shattering into pieces.

"STASHES? WHAT ELSE WERE YOU FUCKING ON?!"

"Please stop yelling." I begged. "I'm throwing it all away so I can start fresh again. I don't want there to be any temptation in this house."

"You're damn right there won't be." He snarled, and gripped my arm, pulling me off of the chair and to the stairs. "We're starting now."

Another piece of my heart cracked as I realized this was the first time he had touched me since I got back, and it was so rough and angry. "Okay! Okay!"

We reached our bedroom and I flinched under Wilmer's angry gaze as he followed me into the closet. I reached up to the top shelf and pulled down a Jeffery Cambell shoebox, I handed Wilmer the box who opened it, his eyes darkening once he saw the contents which I knew were two bags of cocaine, and a bottle of anti-depressants. I opened my bottom drawer and took out a jar, which I handed to him. It was half-full of weed. He followed me into our bedroom, tossing the box and jar on the bed as he watched me go to my bedside table, pulling out another small baggie of the white powder that had ruined my life. I went into the bathroom and reached under the sink, pulling out a small pack of razor blades, and pressed them into his hands.

"Is that it?"

I bit my lip and shook my head, ashamed tears already forming into my eyes. I walked into the spare bedroom and opened the closet doors. Up on the top shelf, was a bottle of vodka that I handed to him.

"There's more in the piano bench in the music room." I whispered. "And a box of blades in the vase there too. That's it."

He didn't answer, his tongue running over is teeth in a way I knew he was even angrier than when he had first found out I was using. He disappeared downstairs, and I slowly walked into the bedroom, sitting next to the pile of my demons and waiting for my husband to come in and scream at me. Soon, his footsteps reached my ears and he threw the other stuff on the bed. Then, he paced. Back and forth, for a long time, running his hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

"I don't want to hear it. I can't even understand-" He cut off and shook his head. "I don't even know what to think right now. I don't know how I'm supposed to respond to his." I saw tears in his eyes and got up, walking towards him. "Don't you dare touch me." He snarled, and I stopped, flinching at the hate in his voice. "I don't know what you are about to do but nothing you can say will make this better. I am so unbelievably angry Demi. I could strangle you right now."

I took a step back. "I'm sorry."

"I just don't get-" He shook his head again. "I have half a mind to put you back in a sober living facility. I told them it was just cocaine, not all of this-"

"They know." I murmured. "I told them everything."

"What?" He stopped pacing. "Why did no one tell me?!"

I bit my lip. "I told them not to Wilmer."

"Why?" His eyes were dark, and filled his fury. "Why would you keep this from me?!"

"Because I didn't think you cared." I whispered. "You didn't visit, or call. I didn't think you cared what I was going through as long as I was fixed when I got out."

"Of course I cared! I cared to know there was cocaine and weed in my house! I cared to know you had stashes of alcohol and blades! That excuse is bullshit and you know it."

"Please stop yelling." I had such a bad headache. "It's over with. I'm throwing them out so it's over and we can move on."

"I can't just move on from this." He shook his head. "I can't even look at you."

"I get it." I whispered, sitting down on the bed. "I know you hate me."

He grabbed his head, gripping his hair. "I don't know what to do. I just need space, to think this through."

My head snapped up. "What do you mean space? You just had months of space! You can't leave me!"

"I don't know what else will get through your damn head!" He roared. "I CAN'T BE AROUND YOU WITHOUT WANTING TO BE SICK. You did this! You ruined us! Everything we had was destroyed by what you did! How am I supposed to work through it when I'm reminded of that stupid white powder every fucking time I look at you?! How am I supposed to try and love you when every part of me screams that you don't deserve it?!"

At his last words, I felt like I been punched. I stared up at him, my eyes wide and shocked. All of the air was knocked out of me and I struggled to breath.

"You're right." I choked out. "I'm sorry."

"You should be."

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-Rachel