But I'm Different (A Demi Lovato Fanfiction)

Chapter: Breaking Point

"Wake up, baby girl. Time for school."

Demi's voice drifted in with the sudden brightness of sunlight crashing through my eyelids.

I groaned, pulling the blanket over my head like it could save me. The worst part of any week wasn't Monday-it was this moment. When your body's still warm and safe and your brain hasn't yet remembered everything it's dreading.

I peeled myself out of bed eventually, dragging my feet to the bathroom. Clothes and underwear already laid out like I had some kind of energy yesterday. I didn't. But I'm trying. One step at a time. I placed my towel on the rack, undressed, and let the steam of the shower soak into my skin.

Ten minutes of peace. Ten minutes of pretending I didn't exist.

By the time I got downstairs, the smell of omelettes made my stomach growl. Demi's way of bribing me into pretending to be a functional human being.

I wolfed them down like I hadn't eaten in days-maybe I hadn't, properly-and grabbed my bag. Books. Stationery. Useless crap that felt heavier every day.

"Bye, love you," I mumbled before stepping out into the cold morning.

The bus rolled up like always. Jude, the driver, gave me a warm smile. "Morning, Sabrina."

I nodded. "Morning."

The usual group was already in the back. Aimee, Lisa, Lizzy-half laughing about TikToks, half complaining about maths. I squeezed into my spot.

"Hey, guys." I got a few tired smiles, but they turned back to their conversations quickly.

Then Mia slid into the seat next to me.

"Hi, Lovato."

I looked up and smiled softly. "Hi, Hepworth."

We didn't say much. We didn't have to. I liked that about her.

Classes dragged. I barely heard anything the teachers said. My mind kept rewinding, stuck in its own loop. But Mia was in my English class, and that helped. Her presence felt like background music-calming, low, constant.

Finally, lunch.

I was starving.

I grabbed my tray and stood in line, doing that thing where you pretend you don't hear your name whispered behind you. I picked out a pasta bake, a chocolate chip bun, and apple juice-comfort food-and turned to head to my usual table.

But then it happened.

I don't even know how. One second I was walking. The next, I was flying.

And then-crash.

My tray went airborne. Pasta and juice flew through the air like some twisted food fight. But it didn't land on the floor.

No. It landed on Chloe Gibbons.

Her squeal was enough to make the entire cafeteria fall silent. Her pink blouse was drenched in sauce, and her perfectly curled blonde hair had a chunk of tomato stuck in it.

I was on the floor, stunned. People gasped. Some laughed. I looked up, heart pounding.

Chloe slowly stood, eyes wide with horror, then rage.

"WHAT. THE. HELL?!" she screeched.

I scrambled up. "I-I'm so sorry-I tripped, I didn't mean-"

Her eyes locked onto mine. "YOU?!"

I froze.

"I didn't mean to," I whispered.

"Oh, please. Don't play dumb. You did this on purpose!"

"No, I tripped, I swear-"

"God, is this because you're Demi Lovato's little pet project? You think that makes you better than everyone?"

My stomach dropped. "No. I don't think that."

"Oh, right, you just walk around with your weird freaky condition like it's something special. You're not." Her voice turned sharp, cruel. "You feel other people's pain, right? What is that, some mental illness crap?"

My throat closed.

"Maybe that explains why you're such a loser," she said. "Mirror-touch whatever. You're just a freak with broken wires."

I couldn't speak. Couldn't even breathe.

She leaned in. "Better stay away from me. Or next time, maybe I'll trip you."

Then she shoved her shoulder into mine and stormed out, still covered in sauce.

I stood there, trembling. People were whispering. Some were laughing. I felt exposed. Naked. Humiliated.

I barely made it to my table. My hands were shaking so bad I could hardly hold the chair.

"I'm in absolute shit, aren't I?" I mumbled, eyes blurry.

Lizzy hesitated. "I wish I could say no."

I blinked. "What did I even trip on?"

I looked over and saw a black handbag sitting too far out in the aisle. Qwen Richards' bag. Another cheerleader.

Right.

Of course.

It wasn't an accident.

Lunch passed in a blur. I didn't eat. My stomach hurt too much anyway. Every hallway felt like it had eyes on me. Every whisper was about me. I felt like I was shrinking. Smaller with every step.

By the time school ended, I was numb. I got on the bus. People stared. I didn't look at them. I just went to my seat and stared out the window, counting the seconds till I could disappear.

Once home, I barely said a word. I ran to my room and threw myself onto the bed. My limbs felt heavy. My chest tight.

Demi called up to check on me.

"Yeah," I answered. I didn't mean it.

I stared at the ceiling. My head throbbed.

Chloe had said I was a freak. That something was wrong with me. Part of me knew it wasn't true-but another part believed it. That old part of me. The one that used to cry alone in my old room, wondering why I had to feel everything everyone else did. Why I couldn't just be normal.

I didn't even realize I was crying until I felt it on my pillow.

I wiped my eyes and picked up my phone.

I stared at the screen for a long time before opening the message app.

And then I did something that felt like peeling my skin open.

I texted Rebecca, my occupational therapist.

Hi. It's Sabrina. Can we talk soon? Things aren't going so good.

It felt like the hardest sentence I've ever typed. I stared at it for a while, then hit send.

A minute later, she replied.

Of course, Sabrina. I'm here. Want to call tomorrow after school?

I exhaled. It didn't fix anything. But I didn't feel so alone.

And maybe... maybe she could help me figure out how to exist in this body that feels too raw. Too open. Too much.