Demi Lovato Imagines

Meeting pt. 2

When you wake, the room has changed. The hanging lamp in the hotel is now a streak of fluorescent white. The floral incense is now the tang of disinfectant. Your heart punches against your ribcage as you strain your neck, trying to pull yourself free from the tight sheets strapping you to the bed, a rattling gurgle vibrating in your chest.  

"Y/n? Hey, hey, it's alright...just lie back, okay...there we go, there we go..."

Demi holds you at the back of your head, supporting you as her other hand presses your chest back down. It rises and falls rapidly as your breathing quickens and eyes dart around. 

"You're safe here, darling," she continues, dark eyes catching the harsh overhead light giving them a wavering glint, "You just need to rest now."

She removes her hands, looking back over her shoulder and reaching for the chair she had been sitting in for God knows how long. Dragging it closer to the bed, she sits down and gently lifts your clenched hand that lies by your side, holding it between her warm hands and stroking your knuckles with her thumb. 

"Are you thirsty?" she asks. 

You just stare, wide-eyed. Her brow crinkles and her lips thin into a straight line. Uncomfortable in the sustained silence, she leans over to the bedside table and grabs the plastic cup of water sitting there anyway. She holds it to your mouth and you act instinctively, gulping down the water, only now realising how dry your throat feels. From over the lip of plastic, you see Demi's whole body sink in a sigh of relief.

"Better?"

You hide your grimace as you swallow, nodding slightly. 

"Good," she breathes, returning the cup and stroking your hair back with her hand, "God, I was so worried."

Only now do you notice the monitor to the left of the bed and the ache of the cannula taped to the top of your hand. You're in hospital. And at this realisation, you remember the only circumstances that could have brought you here. 

"Wh-wha-..." you croak, unable to overcome the sandy sensation of your tongue. Demi reaches for the water again. 

After finishing the cup,

"What h-happened to my baby?" 

Perhaps when the colour drained from her cheeks and her gaze dropped to the linoleum floor, you already knew. But you needed to hear her say it. 

"Dem-i...What happened to-o my baby?"

Her grip around your hand tightens but, still, no words leave her mouth. Pulling away from her touch with the shred of energy you can muster. 

"Demi," you state, demanding an answer.

"You lost the baby, darling," she blurts out, sadness infecting every one of her features. It feels like the angry man punching against your ribs finally manages to break through, cracking open your torso and escaping, leaving you empty and alone. There's nothing inside there anymore. Not even your baby. 

"...no..." you whisper. You can't keep your chin from wobbling as you feel Demi's eyes pinned onto you. 

"I'm so sorry, sweethear--"

"NO!" you scream, kicking your throbbing legs outwards, fists pounding against the thin mattress. 

"Y/n, please calm down," Demi weeps, standing up from the chair and casting anxious glances to the door of the cubicle every few seconds. But you can't calm down. You lost your baby. He's dead. Bile rises at the back of your throat at the realisation that only once he's gone do you recognise your love for him. He was your everything. He was the one you were willing to give up everything for. He was the one you were going to care for and love and protect the way your parents failed to do. He was the one you saw on the scan, enclosed in your safe womb, sheltered from the cruel world. He was supposed to save you.