secrets ↠ demi lovato / 5h

[44]

you know how they say that the air quality, or atmosphere, in a certain place can affect your mood or behavior? something like that?

that first night, I fell asleep pretty quickly because of how tired and stressed I was, but I didn't sleep well. the air felt stifling, stiff, and just so heavy. at around 1am, I woke up, and just simply could not go back to sleep. no matter how I positioned myself, it was just so annoyingly uncomfortable. if I had music now, it would probably help me to fall back asleep, but I left my headphones in the writing room at the studio.

how was Demi? and Naya? what were they doing now? were they coming to get me? had they called up the girls like I asked Demi to? did they tell the police?

a little voice niggled in the back of my mind, "of course not. they're probably in Naya's apartment, glad to get rid of you. why would they alert people if you didn't mean anything to them? that'd only be bad publicity. you're always in the way of their relationship, so of course they'd be so happy that you're finally gone."

I pulled the covers up above my head, shutting my eyes tight, trying to ignore the voice. the chilly November wind blew by again, and I shivered violently before I reached down and grabbed the hoodie from the floor to put it on. I hadn't cried at all since this whole thing happened, and I wasn't determined to start now. I peeked out of the covers and stared up at the ceiling. a car passed by, and the lights travelled across the ceiling before disappearing. I let out a big sigh and turned on my side, the bed creaking as I did so. I snorted softly. talk about gaining weight. this little piggy couldn't even try to sleep without the bed threatening to break.

I got out of bed and tiptoed to the light switch, flicking it on. the bulb was dim and probably on the verge of blowing out completely, so it didn't hurt my eyes too much. back in LA/NY, whenever I couldn't sleep, I'd rearrange my entire room. but since my room here was messy, and exactly how I left it last year, I figured that I'd do the same.

first I picked all the clothes up off the floor, and folded them up. most of them were Katelyn's hand-me-downs, and they were black, or grey, and most of the clothes I owned were either baggy or oversized. there was a terrifying amount of sweatshirts, hoodies and pajama pants, and I had maybe two pairs of leggings. since there weren't enough hangers in my closet, I just rolled the clothes up and lined them up nicely side by side so they'd be easier to see, and checked to see if my shoes still fit. I had a pair of black Converse, and a pretty worn out pair of Vans, also black. the Vans were going to fall apart, but the Converse fit pretty well, and I had the ankle boots I was wearing today too. most of my clothes fit as well, so I was quite alright in that department.

next, I grabbed everything off the floor and sorted them out into piles. most of the things I found were from when our family was better off, before Dad died and Mike became abusive. random things, paper, pens, pencils, hairties, socks, a cracked phone case for my old phone, more paper, gum wrappers, and a couple of books, a water bott- HEADPHONES!

they weren't Apple brand, and they were a crude shade of bright pink with green, but I was grateful for it. nearly kicking a pile of carefully stacked paper, I grabbed my phone and jammed the cord in, hoping fervently it would work. the first notes of Youth by Daughter filled my ears, and I almost cried in relief. music was my only escape, and it was what I really needed now. I tucked my phone into the waistband of my pants, and resumed sorting things out.

finally, at 4am, I had everything sorted and I could actually see my floor now. the things I needed I put up neatly on my bookcase, and if I didn't need it I tucked it away in my closet. I got back into my bed and opened up iMessage, ready to text Demi. my thumbs hovered above the screen. should I text her, or was the voice in my head true? what if it was my gut feeling telling me not to do it? hesitantly, I clicked the home button and away from her. I stared at my home screen for a while, then scrolled through my apps and back pointlessly. then I heard a door open, so I leapt out of bed, across the room, flicked my light off, and scrambled back into bed, making it look like I was asleep. I barely had enough time to slide my phone into the waistband of my shorts before my door opened and Mom stepped in.