That word is love (Demi Lovato fanfic)

That Word Is Love: Chapter 30

A/N sorry for the long wait i've been very busy with school.

COMPETITION WEEK 4- FRIDAY

"Are you alright?" Simon asked me as we walked up the front steps to his house- his mansion, I should say. The place was fucking gigantic. More room to hide... The thought skittered into my brain against my will, and I froze. No. No. This was Simon. Bigger house means further to run to escape. No. Stop! I realized with a start that he was still waiting for an answer. "Hmm? Oh, yeah. Yeah, it's just, y'know..." I trailed off, glad when he finished my sentence. "Of course. It's a huge change for you. I understand." Okay, that... wasn't what I was going to say- mine was more along the lines of 'I'm being passed on to another 'father'' but I guess it was useful if he thought that was the reason for my out-of-character behavior. Suddenly, Simon's arm reached across me and I jerked back instantly, my eyes squeezing shut as I barely managed to stop myself from throwing my hands up to protect my face. Please don't hit me please don't hit me don't hit me don't hit me don't hit me- The slap never came. Slowly, I forced my eyes open, adrenaline pumping through me. Simon was a few steps ahead of me, having reached down to pick up my suitcase, which he was now carrying into the mansion. Oh. My fists uncurled. I glanced quickly down the path; the driver was still there. I could run right now. This was my chance! My gaze flitted from the car to Simon, car to Simon. What should I do? Come on, Demi, run! I urged myself. I couldn't- I wouldn't- willingly put myself in another situation like the one I had just escaped from. My muscles tensed, and just as I was about to sprint down the driveway- "Demi?" Simon turned around to give me a reassuring smile. At least, that's what he was attempting, I think. To me it looked ominous and menacing, with a hint of satisfaction and glee curling around the edges of his mouth. "Come on, darling. Let me show you around." I cast one long, desperate look back at the driver sitting idly in the car, and then turned around and stepped into the house. The door slammed shut behind me. I supposed it was for the best anyway, right? Where would I go if I ran? The driver certainly wouldn't have taken me anywhere, and it would only have earned me my first beating earlier when Simon realized why I ran. "Going from one daddy to the next, hmm?" Dad's words flitted through my mind. Well, I was here now. I squared my shoulders. I could do this. I would survive this. But deep, deep down, I knew I couldn't. Simon was my rock, my savior. He was the reason I was still alive. If I'd been so naïve... if it turned out that what Dad was saying was true, then I'd never survive it. The emotional wounds would cut deeper than any physical pain he could inflict on me. No, Demi, I scolded myself. No ifs. This IS happening. Your naivety is what got you into this fucking mess in the first place. Simon doesn't care about you. He cares about what you can give him. "Come on," Simon's head popped around the corner. "What are you doing? We don't have all day, you know!" There was a teasing note to his voice, but now I heard the hint of genuine irritation and aggression that I'd never noticed before. Wordlessly, I followed him as he gave me a tour of the ground floor- the huge marble kitchen, with sparkling surfaces, reflecting my gullibility clearly back at me; the blooming garden where I saw the thorns, not the roses; the living room, where I noted with some satisfaction the carpet, which meant that my sleeping place would be comfortable. The guest rooms, the library, the garage filled with cars, the office, the lounge, the games room, the home theatre. Finally, he led me back into the kitchen, gesturing at me to take a seat. "So what do you say? Do you reckon you can manage to stick around for a bit?" I forced out a smile- better not to make him mad- and nodded. "Yeah." Simon gave me an odd look, but didn't comment. "Okay. So, I was thinking about how we should approach this. I mean, as old as I am, I've never had a kid before." He looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to latch on to the joke, but I simply nodded. "Yeah, I know." My mind was filling in the blanks and translating what he was saying. "And you're a teenager." You're too old. You're a burden on me. "This has kind of been sprung on me, right? So it's going to have to be a learning curve for the both of us." I don't want you. "Okay," I said out loud. What had Dad said? 'He'll probably throw you out first chance he gets.' "I want this to work out," Simon told me seriously. "I really do. I want you to be able to call this place your home." Which was his way of telling me that there was a possibility of it NOT working out. "Yeah, me too," I answered softly, looking down at the counter-top. Shit, were those tears in my eyes? Were my eyes glassy? What the fuck, I needed to get a grip right now. I straightened, flipping my hair over my shoulder and grinning at Simon. "So what did you want to talk about?" "Is that your way of telling me to get to the damn point?" He chuckled, and I realized a few seconds too late that he had been expecting me to laugh along, or snark back. He was so used to our banter, our jokes... I was a terrible actress. Simon sighed inconspicuously. "Okay, well, like I was saying, I've never had to take care of a teenager before. You haven't really had a normal childhood either, so I'm guessing you're not familiar with how this should work." He looked around helplessly. "So, ah, I'm going to start with a few ground rules." "Yeah, okay," I murmured after a pause. "No smoking. No drinking. No drugs," he eyed me sternly on the last one. "If I catch you taking drugs for any reason, ever again, you'll be in more trouble than you can imagine." If you take drugs, I'm going to beat the shit out of you. "Agreed?" "Mmhmm." My fingers played with the hem of my shirt. I still wasn't meeting his eyes; I felt like I was in trouble for some reason. "You can go out, but your curfew is 8:30 p.m. for now. I know that's early, but I'd rather you come back earlier, at least until you're settled. I'll extend it to 11 or midnight if everything works out fine these first few weeks, and if you want to stay later you've got to call me. Again, if you're late and you haven't rung me to tell me why, you're in big trouble." "Okay." I was feeling a bit overwhelmed with all of this. And he hadn't even started on the real rules yet- the 'no crying', 'one meal a day', 'clean the house' type of rules. I guessed he was saving those for later. "And I know technically I can afford housekeepers, and I have got some, but the social worker thinks it would be good to keep you grounded so I want you to be doing a few light chores." There we go. In a few weeks I'd be cleaning the entire house to save him money. "The last thing is, there's lots of paps outside the house at all times, so you need to be around a bodyguard if you go out. And no publishing any sort of 'insider' news or anything that could be controversial without my go-ahead. Clear?" I nodded once mutely. "Any questions?" I shook my head. Then nodded. Then shook my head again. Should I confront him? Simon's eyes were soft. "What is it honey?" I hesitated. Better to just ask, right? "What- I mean, if I... what happens if I break one of the rules?" Simon shrugged dismissively. "Oh, don't worry about that. They're simple enough, right? I don't know, to be honest with you. I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." I haven't figured out if I'm going to beat you with a belt or my fists. Or if I'm going to make you clean the toilets. Or if I'm going to rape you. Or if I'm going to force you to lay around without clothes. I need time to decide. He placed a plate of sandwiches in front of me; I hadn't even realized he'd been making them. "Eat up." "Wait, Simon?" I glanced at the clock. "Shit, we're late! Let's go!" I pushed my chair back, pulling on my jacket. "Come on!" "Whoa, hold on, slow down, go where?" "The show!" "Which show?" "X Factor!" I tugged at his jacket in annoyance- why wasn't he moving? "We're not going today," Simon said calmly. I stopped dead in my tracks, my head feeling heavy on my shoulders. "What?" "I took the day off, and you need to rest. They can survive without us for one week. Don't worry, you can't be eliminated." "We're not going today?" I asked dumbly. Was he serious? "No. It was actually Wendy who didn't want you up on stage so soon." "Oh." I slunk back down into my seat. I knew why he didn't want me performing- for all his talk, it wasn't Wendy's idea. It was his. I knew it was. He didn't want me performing because he didn't think I was good enough for the live shows. He thought I was worthless. Maybe I was. I'm worthless. If Simon was embarrassed for people to see me on national television now that people knew he'd adopted me, then there was something wrong with me. I'm a slut and a freak and a burden. Why hadn't I stayed with Dad? Why had I been such a stupid proud bitch and thought I was better than him, that I knew better? My life was crumbling around me. All my stupid, stupid bravado and confidence- that I was good, that I was a human being who deserved love- all of it had been ripped away from me in a single night. All the familiar effects- swimming vision, pounding head, racing heart- of my time with Dad were returning. I'm insignificant. I don't deserve anything. "Oh, and I forgot," Simon added, "Don't swear if you can help it." No-one could ever love me. I had been trying, for hours and hours, to change my mind-set. To convince myself that what Dad had told me was wrong, and to believe Simon. But the more time I spent with Simon, the more I realized how gullible I had been. My hands were clammy; my nails dug painfully into my palm. "Okay, that's enough." Simon was staring at me. And he looked pissed off. I shrunk back involuntarily. "You've been basically staring through me for the past day; want to tell me what's up, or should I call Wendy?" Will you tell me what's wrong or should I tell Wendy to take you back? "Call Wendy!" I gasped out, taking my chace. "I mean. Please call Wendy." I had thought that being with Simon was better than the shit they'd do to me in foster homes, but now I realized that I would never, ever be able to make it through the emotional pain of my mentor becoming my monster. I would rather have him tell Wendy to take me back, and live with a monster who was a stranger. Simon looked... hurt? Still, he reached for his phone and slipped it out of his pocket. "Alright. Okay. If that's what you want." As he hit a button to dial, he thrust the phone at me. "Do you want me to leave the room to give you some privacy?" Huh? "Privacy for what?" He looked at me like I was an idiot. "To speak to Wendy." Now it was my turn to look at him like he was the idiot. "No, you're speaking to her right?" "Why would I speak to her?" "Why would I speak to her?" I echoed. Simon pressed the button to end the call and stared at me. "I'm feeling like we've got our signals crossed somewhere." When I didn't answer, he leaned forward on his elbows. "Demi, tell me what you thought just now." "No." I shook my head stubbornly. "You tell me first." He gave me an enquiring look, and then shrugged. "I asked if you wanted to talk to me or to Wendy, and you told me to call Wendy. So I did." Oh. Oh. "Now tell me what you thought." I didn't answer. "Demi." He brushed the hair out of the corner of my eyes, and then his hand travelled down to my chin, lifting it to force me to look at him. His grip was gentle and undemanding, but sent me spiraling into a panic as I recalled Dad's rough, forceful grasp. Suddenly, Simon let go. "Oh, Demi, no." "What?" I choked out. Now he was behind me, his arms wrapping around me, constraining me. I couldn't run, couldn't escape. "I'm not sending you anywhere. I promise you, this isn't a temporary situation and you're not a test product that I'm trying out to see if I like." I shuddered into his touch, willing myself not to panic as his arms enclosed me. "You're stuck with me for life, okay darling?" He pulled back, and I relaxed minutely. "Okay," I answered quickly. "Sorry." "Don't apologize." Simon squeezed my arm once before motioning to the stairs. "Why don't you go get some sleep? You look like you need it. It's the first room on the right." "Yeah." I pushed my chair back and got up slowly. Simon paused. "Unless you want to watch TV down here at night?" he asked meaningfully. He was asking if I still got nightmares, if I wanted his company at night. It was tempting, but... No. I didn't want to be anywhere near him at night. "I'm fine," I told him, forcing out a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow morning." As I climbed the stairs, I felt a weight settling firmly in the bottom of my chest. He wasn't going to get rid of me; of course he wasn't. I'd been stupid for even considering it. Why the fuck would he get rid of me? He wanted me to be his slut and his servant. His good little girl that couldn't escape. I'm worthless. I'm a slut and a freak and a burden I'm insignificant. I don't deserve anything. No-one could ever love me. At night, I was plagued my nightmares. Only this time, my father's face contorted in pleasure as he tortured me morphed into Simon's. My pillow muffled my screams.