Take a Blow for Love (Editing)

Chapter 8

Demi's POV

"He did WHAT?" Marissa yelled. She stood up from her chair.

A few people shh'd my friend, reminding her we were in a waiting room at the hospital. "Sorry." She whispered to the people around us, embarrassed. A few people threw her rude looks and a few "hmphs". Marissa pulled a face at their rudeness.

"What did you do?" She said softly, bending down from her chair, so she's looking at me from below.

"I broke up with him."

"Aw, I so sorry it didn't work out honey." She leaned on the side of her chair, pulling me into a hug. We sat there hugging for a while. Marissa uncoiled her arms from around my body, but still faced me.

"Did you…?" She said quietly, like someone would hear our conversation or she's scared of my answer. I think both.

I looked back down while shaking my head, thinking how she would react if I did break my two-year clean. "I was about to, but Maddie came into my dressing room and when she saw me stressed out, she kept bothering me to tell her what's wrong."

Marissa kept her gaze on me knowing there's more to the story.

"I yelled at her." I added as I sat there shutting my eyes, making a few more tears fall onto my cheeks and onto my black distressed jeans.

"Aw, Dems. Please don't blame it on yourself. It was just bad timing. You are an amazing sister." She tried to convince me as she drew little circles on my back, trying to soothe me. It worked a little as my breathing slowed down a bit. I'm so grateful to her with me right now.

"Sierra Montez' family?" A doctor announced, coming out of the door from the intensive care unit. We both stood up.

"That's us. Well, we're friends of hers." Marissa said smiling.

"Okay. May I please have her parents' number?" He asked.

"Of course. Just let us search through her bag."

"Ok. Just let me know when you find it." He started heading back through the door he came out from.

"My God, I'm hungry. I'll go grab something for us from the cafeteria, while you search her bag." Marissa said.

I shook my head. "I'm not hungry."

She threw me a look telling me otherwise and I sighed. "Fine. Get me whatever."

She nodded and made her way to get the food. I started unzipping Sierra's bag, while feeling kind of guilty going through her things, but I have to let her parents know what's going on. They must be worried like hell.

I found a few changes of clothes, toiletries, underwear and bras. I raised an eyebrow, but ignored it as I continued going through her things, turning her bag into more of a mess.

I found an Android and turned it on without the trouble of entering a password. I tapped on the "Contacts" icon and found only one name. Michael. I tapped his phone number and after a few rings, a female voice answered.

"Hello! Social services!"

I scrunched up my face in confusion. Social services? What the fuck? I was thinking I got the wrong number, but if it's on Sierra's contact list, she probably uses this number a lot right? Um, is Michael there?

"One moment please?" I heard the line getting connected again.

"Hello. You have reached Micheal Coulter, worker of social services. I am currently out of the office, so if you can leave a message with your name and phone number, I will get back to you as soon as possible."

Is Sierra in foster care? Maybe that's why I couldn't find "Home" or "Mom" or "Dad" in her contact list, and why it seemed she was living out of her backpack. I shook the thought out of my head. I've left a message with my name and phone number, and tapped the "End Call" button.

Marissa returned with our food and I told her I've called the social worker on Sierra's phone. She nodded and we both ate our sandwiches while we waited for Michael to call back.

I know it's a little boring. I don't know. I'm having a little trouble getting the creative juices flowing through my head, so I think this is the best I could do. For now, though. I'll try to update in a few days since I'm on my reading week (no school).

Fun fact: I've actually experienced foster care, myself, but it was very different from Sierra's situation. I went in foster care when I was 15 years old, and I still live with my foster family at age 19. They're great, but don't worry, my fostermom isn't ANYTHING like Rosa. She very supportive with my recovery.   With the help of her family, I am now four years free from cutting and more self confident than I've ever felt in my life. They're such great people and I can't thank them enough for what they've done for me.

Oh and…

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