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I fought against the system the best I could but they got me. They helped me.

I hated it at first, they kept giving me speeches about how I should 'accept recovery'.

I thought it was utter bullshit.

Eight months, eight fucking months in this prison.

Today was the first day I had seen any of my family and also my release day.

I refused to see them before now, even when they had driven all the way out here and we're dating the next room while my therapist tried to convince me to see them.

I couldn't face them, I'd hurt them too much, they were ashamed of me.

11am was the time I was waiting for, the time of my freedom.

Currently it was 10:57am.

I say in the reception shaking my leg and picking at my nails, trying to keep my anxiety at bay.

I felt someone sit by me, I looked to the figure to see my therapist. I leant my head on her shoulder as she put an arm around me.

She had turned my life around and no words would ever be enough to thank her for what she had done.

"You nervous?" She questioned, rubbing my arm slightly.

I nodded, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

She nudged me, causing me to look up and gaze my eyes on my family for the first time.

I was frozen still until Demi opened her arms and ran over. I stood up and hugged her, she picked me up and twirled us slightly.

"I missed you so much baby girl. You look so good!" She complimented me.

"I love you so much Dem." I told her.

I hugged my family then returned back to Demi, not entirely by choice, she had hold of my hand and refused to let go.

We stood there hugging each other whilst my parents signed my release forms and spoke to my therapist about my further treatment.

"Dem?" I looked up at my big sister.

"Yeah?" She replied.

"Thank you for saving my life."

You're Not My Sister - Demi LovatoWhere stories live. Discover now