Don't Leave Me

Chapter 22 -Arizona

Sierra's POV:

I threw my heavy suitcase and backpack on my bed. Afterwards, I practically threw my body on my bed and put my earbuds in. Decided to listen to some good ole' classic 90's heavy metal.

This hotel is so nice. Demi and I literally have our own rooms and our own bathroom. I mean, not that it does much good. Demi keeps my bathroom locked almost all day. I have to go and tell her whenever I have to go to the bathroom. Such a hassle and a pain, at that.

I looked up to see that Demi was waving her hand in front of my face. I took one of my earbuds out and made eye contact with her.

"Hey, how are you liking your new room for the next three days?" Demi asked.

"It's pretty cool." I told her.

"Good." She smiled at me and left.

I put my earbud back in and started playing air guitar as I listened to Nickelback sing If Today was Your Last Day. Damn, I love them so much. Something about rock music is just so relaxing and peaceful, except when you, you know, set a rock song as your alarm on your phone. That is definitely not very relaxing to wake up to.

I walked out of my room, putting my earbuds on my dresser, and sat on the couch beside Demi.

"So, is there anything you want to do tonight?" Demi asked me.

"Not really." I replied.

"I have an idea." Demi put on a thinking face and proceeded with "how about we go down to the pool?"

"Not interested." I told her.

"It will be fun." She said enthusiastically.

"I just don't enjoy swimming."

"Okay." She said.

I went back into my room.

I can't tell her the real reason why I don't want to go swimming. The real reason why I don't want to wear a bathing suit. I can't tell anyone. No one ever seems to understand. I mean. Demi knows, but she doesn't know, if you know what I mean. She knows about my self-harm, but she doesn't know about how embarrassed I am about them or about how I have them all up and down my arms and on my shoulders. There is literally no way to hide them, other than wearing long-sleeve shirts. Now that I think about it, that is probably not going to pass very well here in Arizona, but oh well. I'll play it off as long as possible.

Demi knocked on my door.

"Hello." I said.

"Can I come in?" Demi asked.

"Yeah."

She opened the door.

"Do you want tot talk?" She asked.

"Not really." I told her.

"Let me rephrase that. Do you need to talk?"

"Nope." I grabbed my earbuds off of my dresser and put them in.

She walked over to me and gently pulled one of them out.

"We need to talk."

"About what?"

"Well, we were talking about swimming and then you just walked out. You're an eleven-year old girl. Most kids your age love swimming."

"Not me." I told her.

"Let me look at  your arms."

"Excuse me."

"Pull up your sleeves."

"Why?!?!"

"Please."

"No."

"Emily. I am not going to judge you. Just let me see how far the scars go up. I know there is a reason why you don't want to go swimming, far beyond than you just not liking to swim."

"Okay, maybe there is. You already know about my fucking scars."

"I know, but why are you so embarrassed to tell me why you don't want to go swimming."

"I don't know. It's just hard to talk about."

"I know, so show me, just so I can be more understanding. Alright?" She said, sympathetically.

"Please." She pleaded.

"Fine." I slowly pulled up my sleeves.

She gently rubbed her fingers on my scars, until she came across the newest one. A fresh, gapping cut. "Oh, Emily." She said.

"Thank you. We will see if we can find you a swimsuit that covers these tomorrow, alright?"

"They make those?" I asked.

"Mhm, there are lots of modest swimwear available." She told me.

"Alright!"

She hugged me.

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