Don't Leave Me

Chapter 12 - My Story

Emily's POV:

Sometimes it feels like nobody cares or notices me. When I went to public school, I would say hi to people in the hallways and they would just shrug me off. The girls that used to bully my at school still find ways to contact me. They message me all the time calling me a slat, fat, whore, bitch and so much more. Of course there's so much more. Ever since I can remember, people have treated me like crap. My parents, people at school, everyone. I wish someone was here for me. I wish someone cared. I know I tell myself this and deep down, I know that Demi cares. It just sucks when she does searches on me like I'm some kind of fucking criminal or when she forces me to eat. Like, I'm not fucking hungry. Is that so hard to believe. People really irritate me. I hate my life. I hate everything.

I closed the notebook and put it under my bed.

Ugh, like that's supposed to work. It doesn't fucking cure and addiction. It's certainly not the first time someone's recommended I write when I feel like self-harming either. The school therapist recommended after she walked into the bathroom one day... the same time I was in there. I say yes. I agree to do it to make people happy... but I'm not happy.

"You okay?" Demi said, jolting me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Do you need to write?" She asked.

"Already did." I told her.

"Did it work?"

"Could you just leave me alone?" I asked rudely.

"Emily, I just care about you. That's all." She said as she sat down on her bed.

"I know. I'm sorry."

I got up and headed to the bathroom.

"Emily. Where are you going?"

"Bathroom. I have to pee."

"Are you sure?"

"No, I just thought I'd tell you I have to go to the bathroom when I really don't. Yes, I'm sure." I told her.

"Emily. Sit back down please. I know you're lying to me."

"Fuck you." I said as I held my middle finger up at her.

"Emily, I know you're having a bad day. I know you're mad at the World right now. I get that. I was too when I was your age, but please cool it with the attitude, alright. I'm just trying to help you. Now, why don't you get some sleep. Tomorrow we're going to hang out in Nashville, before the concert. Sound good?"

"No, but what did you mean, you hated the World when you were my age. How could you hate the World. You're fucking amazing."

"Not everyone thought so though. Have you not heard my story?"

"No, my parents were fucked up. I wasn't allowed to watch TV or go anywhere except school and even school was crap."

"Alright, well get relaxed. This could take a while, but I'll tell you, alright?"

"Okie dokie."

She smiled at me.

"Alright, it started at a very young age, I had always hated my body. I thought I was fat. When I was eleven, I used to get bullied. People would call me fat and other names. At the time, I felt like I had no control. I called my mom in the bathroom and told her I couldn't take it anymore. She came and picked me up and I never went back to public school. I still hated my body though and the haters really got to me. They would comment rude stuff on my videos, so I thought the best way to deal with everything was to start self-harming and starving myself. Any questions so far?"

"Nope. It just seems like you've been through a lot. I wish I knew."

She half-smiled at me.

"Anyways. I started doing cocaine. I would smuggle it onto airplanes. It was beginning to be a real problem, but I didn't know that. I didn't want to admit that. When I was on the Camp Rock 2 tour, my dancer decided it would be a good idea to tell adults about my use of drugs. I was taking Adderall at the time. Do you know what Adderall is?"

I shook my head.

"It's a drug that is often used as a form of medication for people with ADHD. It's supposed to help them focus. Anyways, I  then punched the dancer after I found out that she was telling people. I thought that that could ruin my career. Everything. Music was always the thing that made me happy. My parents told me that the only reason that they would not call the cops is if I went to treatment, so I went to a rehab facility called "Timberline Knolls". I'm certainly not sending you there though. At least not at a such young age though. During my time at Timberline Knolls, I was diagnosed with bipolar, anxiety and depression. They put me on medication, which I still take to this day. Any questions?"

"No, but wow that was a lot. I'm sorry."

"It's all good. That's all in my past now. Why don't you get ready for bed, so you're well rested for tomorrow."

"Alright, but I have to go to the bathroom to get ready."

"Alright, but leave the door open, at least a crack, alright?"

I nodded my head.

I grabbed some clothes, went into the bathroom, washed my face, and put on my pajamas.

"Night." I said to Demi as I got under the covers.

"Night, baby girl."

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