That word is love (Demi Lovato fanfic)

That word is love : Chapter 3

Trigger warning: physical abuse, not really major though

Notes: Simon is kind of light for now, but he'll play a bigger role as it progresses. Also I've shortened the bootcamp round like crazy.

"Okay, Demi." Dad took a deep breath as he pulled up outside the X Factor set. "You know how it's going to go?"

I nodded mutely, and he raised an eyebrow. I quickly opened my mouth. "Um, I'm going to sing to the best of my ability and make it to the next round. If they ask any questions, I answer properly."

"I will be watching you the whole time," he reminded me, getting out of the car. As I walked past him, he grasped my waist, his fingers digging into my hip hard enough to leave bruises. "And I swear to God, you little bitch, if you raise your arms above your head and show any skin..."

I stared into his eyes, fear coursing through me. "I won't, I won't. I swear."

"If you do," he repeated, "and they notice that you haven't had your appendix out recently, I will have no trouble giving you a nice scar to show off."

It wasn't an empty threat. I swallowed before replying. "I won't, I promise."

"Your promises mean nothing," he spat at me, letting go. "Worthless little girls who lie all the time can't promise shit." He shoved me forward so hard I tripped, and he laughed derisively. "They can't walk either."

"Sorry." Why was I so clumsy?

He snorted before falling into step with me as we walked into the building together, his hand laying inconspicuously yet threateningly on my lower back. "Don't pull anything funny either. None of your depressed shit."

I turned to him in protest, forgetting myself for a second. "But I was going to sing-"

"What?" Dad growled, dragging me to a corner. "Another sappy love song about your mother? She left you! Get over it."

"She didn't leave me!" I bit back, cursing myself as the words poured out without my permission. What was I doing? Shut up, Demi! I was going to be in so much trouble. "I-I mean... she didn't- she didn't leave. Not intentionally."

"Are you talking back to me?" Oh, his eyes. They were furious and he looked like he wanted me dead. In one swift motion, he pulled my jacket off my shoulder and tugged my shirt sleeves up, his fingers curling into my upper arms and pinching hard, quick and sharp. I gasped as the pain shot through my arms, but he kept on twisting the sensitive skin over and over. "What did I say? No. Fucking. Depressive. Shit."

I nodded, blinking back tears. Don't cry, don'tcry, don't cry. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I won't! I'll sing something happy. Please stop..."

He let go suddenly, yanking my sleeves down, his mood suddenly calmer. "I don't care how amazing you think you are- just because you can sing a little does not mean you can argue with me."

"Yes, sir."

"And no crying or any of that in front of the cameras. Smile and dazzle them, you hear me?"

"Yes, Dad."

I took deep, calming breaths as we walked together, trying to regain control of myself. I didn't know why I'd done that; it made no sense. I usually never dared to talk back to him, to question anything he told me to do. What on earth had come over me?

It must be the competition. It was getting to my head! Exactly what I was afraid would happen. I had to remember my place and who I was- there was a one in a million (no, less than one in a million) chance that I would win and be free of my father, and any mistakes I made in the meantime would come back to haunt me if I didn't. The difference between first and last, and first and second was the same in my view: only the winner received the prize money.