The Ballerina & The Devil

Sixty Three. Things Have To Get Worse...

A/N: Before you dive into the chapter here is a beautifully written poem by @mackenziie03. Thank you, love. It's absolutely brilliant.

I looked in the mirror
And what did I see?
A scared little girl
Staring back at me.

I stare at my body
And what did I see?
My stomachs too big and I'm not pretty.

I do all these things
So I can feel good,
But it's getting so tiring
To throw up my food.

I looked in the mirror
And what did I see?
A scared little girl staring back at me.

I couldn't take the image
So I broke what I saw.

You're not pretty or skinny,
You're nothing at all!

I've fallen into the deep end
Too far to return.

I looked in the mirror
And what did I see?
A scared little girl staring back at me.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Demi, you can't hide forever," Aidan said in a reasonable tone.

"You mean I can't hide from my scorching humiliation, my failure as a daughter, friend, sister, and as an overall person? I know that, but I can try."

Currently, I was curled up in a pathetic ball in the furthest corner of the school library. I had managed to go undetected there for the past five periods, wallowing in my own self-pity. That was, until Aidan managed to find me. Don't ask me how. I took off pretty quick after the verbal slap down from Kenzie.

"Demi, come on," he sighed. "I know it seems bad now, but-"

"It seems bad? Let's go over some recent events," I leaned against the wall to pin him with a look. "My dad is so mad at me he's probably gonna end up shipping me off to Timbucktu, my mom thinks she's a failure as a mother because of me, my brother has completely written me off, one of my best friends told me to kill myself while the other one couldn't even say one word to me which, funnily enough hurts more than being told to put a bullet in my head."

"She didn't say to put a bullet in your head-"

"She may as well have," I sighed and shut my eyes. "Which honestly sounds really good at this moment in time."

"Demi, that isn't funny," he said sternly.

"Who's being funny?" I opened my eyes to see him wearing a worried frown. "I'm just kidding, relax."

"Death isn't funny," he said flatly.

"Right," I rubbed his arm. "Sorry for being...crass."

He smiled a little and nodded. "Sorry for being sensitive."

"You mean sorry for having emotions?" I pushed him lightly. "Don't be. You aren't a rock, Aidan. Even though you seem to think you are."

"I do not think that," he said dismissively.

"I think you do. I think you have problems expressing how you really feel."

He chuckled. "Are you giving me advice on how to be honest with my emotions?"

I paused and then laughed. "Oh, God I hate you so much."

"No, you don't," he smirked. "You're crazy in love with me."

"That feeling's quickly disappearing," I rolled my eyes. "So, tell me how you're doing. We talk too much about me and my problems. Let's talk about yours. That'll make me feel better."