Demi Lovato Imagines

Bound

TW: self harm

"Is there any juice left?"

"What kind of juice?"

Charlie rolled her eyes at the back of her dad's head as she stood at the door of the kitchen. 

"The kind I always have," she replied sarcastically. "Apple and blackcurrant. For dance."

"Oh yeah," her dad stretched out, leaving a long enough pause for Charlie to get suitably annoyed. "Yeah, there's a new bottle in the pantry. Got it yesterday."

Pushing her knuckles into his spine as she crossed behind him, Charlie suppressed her laughter. She wasn't ready to let him know he was forgiven after the night before and determined to maintain her stone-faced passivity for as long as she saw fit. Unscrewing the lid, she poured a couple of inches into her bottle. 

"Excuse me," she said, nudging her dad with her elbow. He held firm, pressing the corners of his  lips downward to stop his own smile. She bent her knees, pushing again. 

"Da-a-ad!"

"Okay, okay! There you go!" He placed the plate he was washing on the drying rack, making room for Charlie to turn on the cold water and fill her bottle up to the rim. "Someone's being Little Miss Bossy today."

Charlie didn't respond, clicking the top back on her bottle and walking to the door. 

"Are you taking me?"

"To what?"

"Dad! To dance! It's Tuesday!"

She waited for him to do the same schtick as before, feigning ignorance before reassuring her that the car keys were already in his pocket. 

"But your sister's home today," he said instead. 

"Yeah?"

"Don't you want to see her?"

Charlie shuffled her feet around on the spot, running her hand along the door frame. 

"I'll see her. She's back for, like, at least a month, right?"

"Something like that. But this is her first night back. Don't you think you should have the decency to hang around instead of rushing out the door?"

"But, dad, we're rehearsing! The show is soon and Miss Theresa is still deciding who is doing the solos. If I miss class I'll be a write off."

Her dad continued to run water through the sieve he'd used earlier that dad when he made his special brownies. Charlie tucked her water bottle under her arm. 

"I still think it's not very polite."

"Okay...?" 

"Charlotte."

"Dad."

He didn't have anything to come back to this. He never did. He just sighed, his big shoulders rising up to his ears before sinking down again like a wave. 

"It's up to you. I'm not going to stop you."

"Great," she nodded. "Leave at half past?"

The sound of the horn beeped from outside and Charlie turned to see the black shape of the car pulling into the driveway. While she hated to admit it, she always felt a shower of dread drench her at the thought of Demi coming home. As if, for the next few weeks, she would have to be continually performing so as to not encourage her prying fingers. Her mom opened the front door first, pulling a huge suitcase behind her, before Demi appeared behind her.