Cry Baby (Demi Lovato)

SIX

"It's okay. Just start from the beginning..."

"When I was younger, I loved you. I was such a big fan, my room was decorated in posters of you. I spent every waking hour of the day watching Sonny with a Chance and Camp Rock and yeah- I worshipped you."

"You did?" I failed to hide the shock in my voice. She did nothing but hate and abuse me since I've been here and she expects me to believe that years ago, she worshipped the performance I put on. "I- How-"

"Just listen, please." Nodding my agreement, she takes a deep breath and faces me again. "My parents weren't good people. We didn't have a good relationship and they did everything they could to make me as miserable as they were. They belittled me, they abused me, they made me the way I am today. After a while, I blocked it out and I learnt to ignore it, through your music. They could say what they wanted but you'd inspired me to fight it, to not listen and believe that one day it got better. I guess they caught on to that because they learned to use you against me." Her voice was thick with tears and I could tell she was struggling to hold it together, the conversation was most likely triggering for her considering she's not only telling someone besides her therapist, but someone who's clearly but unknowingly involved in her downfall.

"As I said earlier, I had posters of you in my room and you always looked so perfect in front of the camera. You had my dream figure, hair, everything and I aspired to be the same. I never did anything negative to get that way, not until my mother brought me down. I'd spend hours, listening to your music and blocking out the noise of them arguing or saying hurtful things about me until they brought it to my room. They'd tear your poster down from the wall and shout and scream about how I'm never gonna live up to you. How you were skinny, talented and pretty and I was this waste of space. They made you, the one good thing that I had growing up, into something that made me start all these habits. I'd drink and purge and inflict all this pain on myself because I could never live up to what you were or what I imagined you as. Little did I know you were suffering the same."

"I- I don't know what to say. I'm so-"

"Don't apologise. It wasn't your fault and I should never have treated you the way I did. I guess I just held so much resentment for them still and I projected it on you, wrongly. When you fell, when you were helpless, I was suddenly 12 again and I just..."

"I had no idea how triggering I would be for you."

"You're not a trigger. Not anymore. When I first was told you were moving in, I had all these flashbacks and nightmares but once I got to be around you in a normal environment that's when I saw the real you around. When you told your story to the girls, it sank in that you were never the perfect image I had painted of you. I might have aspired to be you as a child but you were suffering the same as I was." Tears that are still racing down her cheeks are wiped away as she shot me a sympathetic smile. "And then I had nothing. All this admiration came back and I got scared and it was easy to ignore you and project everything on to you than to open up to you."

"I know you don't want apologies but I truly am. I understand the way you were and honestly, I'm impressed you took around. I couldn't have been around that. It shows how far you've come."

"Thanks." Taking a deep breath, she looks hesitant but questions anyway. "Can I show you something?"

"Sure." Getting up, her slim body disappears up the stairs and no longer than a minute later, she's back down with a thick, tattered journal in her hand. "What's this?"

"Seeing pictures of you on Disney, it's not triggering?"

"No, it's ok." Sliding the thick book over, I glance at her and she nods reassuringly as I move to open it.

"This was my journal I kept after my parents. There's not much writing but... yeah." She finishes lamely and I feel my heart break at the contents on the first page. There's multiple pictures of myself as a child star, figure circled, outfits with arrows coming from, small pictures of child Mia put over different actors face. The exact same thing I had on my own board as a teenager.

"Oh my- I-"

"You don't have to say anything. If this is too much-"

"No! No, I just- I had the same thing. But putting myself there, seeing someone look up to me..." I couldn't stop my eyes roaming every inch of the page, scrutinising my look at a teenager. "I'm so sorry you went through this."

"I'm sorry you did too." She weakly smiles, sliding the book from my hands and intertwining them again. "You deserve so much better." She whispers, shuffling along the floor to share the blanket with me and resting her head carefully on my shoulder. Finally, submitting to my comfort of a friend.

"You deserve better too Camilla." At the sound of her full name, she looks up, tears in her eyes. "And you'll get better." I promise, lifting my hand to swipe away the tears with my thumb.

"One day." Her breath washed over my face, showing just how close in proximity the two of us was but something was holding me there. Her eyes glued to my own and I just couldn't look away.

She gulped softly, taking my shaking hand that was still resting on her cheek and pulling it into her lap. "Wh- What are you doing?" I uttered, finally her eyes breaking contact as they travelled down my face and rested amongst my lips for a second or two.

Instead of providing me with words, she let her actions do the talking.