Blessing In Disguise

Sequel | Two

"Dallas, you're not supposed to have cameras here," I can hear Lily scold from down the hall, and I clap my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing.

"Sierra has been here for almost five months. Are you honestly going to try to prevent me from recording her leaving?"

"Oh, Dallas, chill," I tease, turning the corner and approaching them. "Quit trying to be such a badass."

"Dad," Dallas points the camera at me. "Be prepared to start chasing away all of the boys. Spin, baby-girl."

"Deja vu much, Dal?" I spin for the camera and giggle as Eddie huffs at Dallas' comment.

"You were beautiful before," Dianna toys with the end of my braided hair. "And you're even more beautiful now," I swear that her eyes glaze over as she smiles at me.

"I know," I grin. "I'm healthy now."

"Loving yourself isn't vanity," Lily recites. "It's sanity. Right, Demi?"

Demi mutely nods, forcing a small smile on her face as she stands, awkwardly observing.

We're not on the best of terms, and everyone knows it. Neither of us have told anybody why we're back to hardly speaking with each other, and they stopped asking three months ago.

Three months.

That's how long it has been since my sister and I have had a proper conversation with each other, one not so tense and awkward.

It's also the difference between my stay at Timberline Knolls and Demi's. She was released within two months. I knew that she could fight this easier the second time; all she needed was to be retaught the tools that she first learned here, and maybe talking to a therapist again helped, too.

As for me, I'm being released today after five long and difficult months. I'm stronger and happier now, though.

I still wish that I could go back and redo the conversation that I had with Demi during her last day at TK.

I knew that Demi had just finished her last in-treatment therapy session, so I went to her room, knowing that I needed to try one last time. Her door was open, and her roommate was in therapy. She was folding her clothes and packing them away in her suitcase.

"I knew that you could do it."

"Do what?" She didn't look at me, a habit that had formed since our very first day here, after she refused to tell me about my mom.

"Get better. Faster than before, I mean."

"It seemed easier the second time, despite my mindset at first."

The awkward, slightly tense silence only confirmed what I believed: our relationship was tearing apart at the seams. How long would it be before we went back to square one, to only speaking to each other in cold, hateful tones?

"Do you want to tell me about my mom now that you're being discharged, or are you just going to leave me here wondering?"

She sighed.

"Sierra, I've told you before, I can't tell you about your mom-,"

"Because it's not your story to tell," I scoff, tired of receiving the same line over and over again. "I deserve to know not only how you know her but also what you know about her. She's my mom, Demi! Yeah, she might not be a good one, but-,"

"That's the point, Sierra! Did it ever cross your mind that maybe I'm doing this to protect you?"

"Protect me from what?"

"Nothing," She muttered. "Forget it."

"No, Demi, I won't forget it. Yes, my mom might not be great, but she has cleaned herself up. Doesn't she deserve a second chance? She's different now-,"

"How do you know? You hardly even know her, Sierra."

"So, you think that you know my mother better than I do?"

"I know things that you don't," she slowly responded, as if carefully choosing her words. "I know things about her that you don't. I knew her at a time when you didn't."

"What is that even supposed to mean?"

"Answer me this: If she wanted you in her life, why didn't she seize the opportunity when she had a chance?"

"I hate you," I hissed, pissed that she was insinuating that my mom didn't want me then, and she doesn't want me now. "You haven't changed at all since I first met you. You're still the same selfish bitch that I met so many months ago."

"Sierra-,"

"No. I've grown to trust you. I've grown to consider you as my sister. But you're ruining everything. You're sending us right back to square one."

There was a pause, and I wondered if she had anything more to tell.

"Maybe it's for the best," She surprised me by saying so casually.

"What?"

"If your mom wanted you to know, she'd tell you, and you're obviously not going to stop asking me, so what if we did just go back to hardly speaking to each other? It has got to be better than what we're doing now, right?"

How could she think that? Why would she think that? Did she want that to be the kind of relationship that we have?

"I can't do that."

"Why not?" Her face became devoid of emotion, just how I remembered it. "You've done it before. We both have. It shouldn't be too difficult."

I struggled to swallow the lump in my throat. How could she seem to turn off her emotions so easily while I was trying so hard not to cry?

"Okay," I whispered, fearing that my voice would crack if I tried to speak any louder.

I didn't even watch her leave with our family. I didn't say goodbye. I didn't tell her that I'd see her soon. Instead, I laid in my room and cried as if I was mourning the loss of a close friend. In a way, I guess that I was. I was mourning the loss of the sister that I had grown to love, while a secretive, cold-hearted facade replaced her.

I don't even know if I have the determination to repair our relationship. Maybe she was right: maybe this is for the best.