You and Demi weren't the same anymore, you used to have the perfect relationship. Sex, love, cuddles, giggles. All of that changed after you picked up a new job, a photographer for a bikini line. It made Demi so incredibly jealous that you were around half naked girls half the size of her and you couldn't understand why she couldn't trust you. You two argued constantly, in fact you were fighting once again,"Oh my god Demi! Do you not hear me? I love you. You. You. You. So just stop. If you don't trust me that much leave fuck!" You both stopped in your tracks when the words left your mouth. You heard her choke out a sob from the bathroom. You took a deep breath and pulled your knees to your chest, now a vulnerable ball in the center of your bed, sobbing. "Fine. I'll to Sirah's. We'll talk tomorrow." With that she grabbed her phone and left. You broke down, clutching onto her pillow as you cried yourself to sleep.
The sunlight woke Demi up as it peaked through Sirah's window. She groaned and stretched reaching for you, when the bed fell cold she remembered last night. Leading to another panic attack. She needed you. She longed for your presence, your hair, your smell. She pulled herself out of bed and padded down the stairs. She walked straight outside to her car and drove to your house. Knocking softly she swallowed the lump in her throat. As the door opened she immediately noticed your long sleeve shirt and red eyes. You never wore long sleeves to sleep, "Show me your wrists." You went to close the door before she shoved her foot in, re opening the door she grabbed your wrist. You were too drained to pull away, as the sleeve pulled against the fresh cuts you winced. Demi's heart sank to her toes, she caused this. Because she couldn't trust you. You let out a sob and gathered all your strength, "Just let it go. Go. Do you. I'll be me. We aren't good anymore." You plopped on the couch and drank the now luke warm water on the table. "Baby I can't. You got a fantastic job and I ruined it. I made it big deal in the wrong way." She ranted as she paced behind the couch, "I got jealous and it blurred my vision from seeing how in love with me you are, well, were." Her voice cracked as she sat beside you. "Demi no. Save it for your therapist, you have an appointment Thursday at 2." She swallowed hard and it got your attention. She was crying. She never cries in front of you anymore. It took everything in you to not wrap your arms around her and tell her it was okay. She broke you. You relapsed because of her. Demi. Demi did this. "Now, leave before I call the cops. I need to clean my house and wash the sheets in hopes of getting your smell out of them." You took a breath and stood up gathering the trash on the table. "Because it hurts, to smell you on my sheets, it hurts seeing your face on my walls." Demi looked around to see the walls stripped bare. All the photos were gone. "It hurts to think of what we were Demi. Were. I can't even go in my kitchen without seeing us making cookies. You broke my heart because you couldn't be happy for me. My career finally took off and it was about you." You walked into the kitchen dumping the trash in the bin before walking back in front of her. "Which by the way. I got fired for not showing up today. Thanks for that." Demi stood up before looking your glassy eyes, she smiled slightly before walking over the painting her mom got you, "Let it be." She let the tears slip before walking out the front door. She was gone. Your everything had walked out the door. You were okay now. Maybe.
