Alexis Grace Lovato is your typical fourteen year old girl, besides having a famous singer as her Mom. Demi stopped working when Alexis, or Alex, was born so that she could single-handedly take care of her. What happens when Demi goes back to work a...
Alex's POV I spent one extra day in the hospital and to say Mom was worried the whole time would be an understatement.
"I brought you some clothes to change into." Mom said as she entered my hospital room.
"I-I don't want to wear shorts." I stuttered out as I looked at the clothes. Fuck, I stuttered. I can't let Mom see the cuts on my thighs.
"Is there something I don't know about?" Mom immediately asked.
"No. I just don't want to wear shorts." I told Mom.
"Well, you're going to have to because I didn't bring anything else."
"Do you have any makeup on you?" I asked Mom. She looked suspicious.
"No, I don't. Now I know something is up. What is it?" Mom asked worriedly.
"I-It's nothing.." I quietly stuttered. I grabbed the clothes and went into the bathroom that's connected to my hospital room.
"While you're changing, I'm going to sign the discharge papers." Mom smiled at me. I pulled out the clothes and changed. She was bound to find out soon anyways.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I changed into a Paramore t-shirt, black jean shorts, and white converse. I took a deep breath before I went out of the bathroom. I walked out and saw Mom was all ready to go.
"Alex.." Mom whispered, noticing the cuts on my thighs. "Why, baby girl?" She asked as she pulled me into her embrace. I just shrugged. "We'll talk about this when we get home."
We walked out of the hospital and were immediately bombarded by paparazzi.
"Alex, did you overdose again?!"
"Demi, you're looking gorgeous! Look here!"
"Alex, lose some weight!"
The last one hit me hard. Mom pulled me close to her and flipped off the paparazzi before we got in the car.
"They're going to make something bad out of that.." I spoke quietly to Mom, talking about how she flipped them off.
"I don't care." Mom replied bluntly. "No one can talk shit about my daughter." She gripped the steering wheel and her knuckles turned white. I'm surprised the steering wheel didn't break.
"Mom, calm down. I'm fine." I told Mom.
"Are you really fine? If you were fine you wouldn't have taken that Xanax! You wouldn't have gone to that party and gotten shit face drunk! You wouldn't of overdosed and we wouldn't be in this fucking mess!" Mom shouted and looked at me. I could see she looked guilty about her outburst.
