Blessing In Disguise

Sequel | Five

~Demi's POV~

"So, I fainted?" I furrow my eyebrows at my doctor, struggling to recall what happened prior to me waking up in a hospital bed.

"That's my conclusion," he nods. "Your boyfriend," he absentmindedly gestures to the door, where my family is waiting outside, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes, not bothering to correct him. "Informed me that you have been reducing your daily caloric intake."

I'm seriously going to kill Wilmer.

"Not really," I try to defend. "I mean, I've just been really busy, and I have major projects coming up-,"

"Shouldn't your health come first?"

"I guess so," I sigh.

"With you fainting like you did, I'm assuming that you're consuming 800 calories max daily," I don't correct him on how it's actually more like half of that. "I'm going to let your family in now, but, please, don't let your work interfere with your health."

As he leaves the room to talk to my family, I think about what happened last night. I know for a fact that I didn't faint. Sure, I've been restricting in an attempt to slim down a little before my photoshoot, but it's not like I've been completely starving myself.

That's when I remember Samantha.

She was at my apartment.

She knocked me out.

Did she bring me here?

"Don't worry about me, she said," Sierra enters the room. "I'm fine, she said," she glares at me. "Really, Demi?"

Do I tell anybody about what really happened at my apartment?

Is Samantha truly that much of a threat to me?

"I'm not dead," I snort.

"No but you're lucky that Wilmer here called you when he did."

"You're the one that brought me here?" I ask him, and he nods.

What happened to Samantha?

"I heard the thud, and then you weren't responding, so I got worried," he explains, barely even looking at me.

"Did I happen to knock anything over when I fell?" I hesitantly inquire, referring to the lamp that Samantha shattered.

"No," he flashes me a confused expression, and I infer that she must have managed to clean the mess up before Wilmer arrived. "Why?"

My phone screams, cutting off my response. Sierra retrieves it from my purse that sits on the window sill.

"Hello?" she answers, and I glare at her. "This is Ms. Lovato's assistant. Oh, you're calling about her upcoming photoshoot? Well, I'm sorry to inform you that Ms.Lovato has fell ill with quite a nasty lung infection and will no longer be able to work that day. Yes, I'll be sure to tell her. Thank you. Goodbye," she tosses my phone back into my purse. "They send their wishes for you to get well soon," she grins innocently.

"I hate you."

"I know," she sits on the wide window sill. "At least I wasn't lying."

"I don't have a lung infection."

"No but you are sick and unable to work."

"I'm perfectly fine!"

"You're in a hospital bed because you fainted. I don't know about you, but the last thing that we all need is 'Demi Lovato goes to rehab for the third time' as a headlining story," she pauses. "I told you so."