Left Out (Demi Lovato)

Chapter 41: Old Ways

Hayley's POV

Around an hour later, we arrive back at Demi's house. Demi carries me inside and I feel the soft mattress beneath me as she lays me in the bed in the guest room.

"Goodnight, Hayley," Demi says. "Remember that if you need me, I'm in my room and always ready to talk."

I still don't understand why Demi says that every night, but I guess there may come a time when I will need to talk to her in the middle of the night. I just hope tonight isn't that night.

After about an hour of drifting in and out of sleep, I sit up in bed and start to cry again for no reason other than for the sake of crying. I slide out of the bed and walk into the adjoined bathroom. I find the razors where I know they are and break one to reveal a blade. I take the blade and look down at my thighs. Some of the cuts are still red, but a lot of them have started to scar. Demi knows that I've cut my thighs, so why don't I cut my stomach instead?

I sit down on the bathroom floor and make multiple slashes across my fat stomach. I'm just so ugly! I feel like screaming and crying for help, but I'm too numb and don't even care anymore. I keep cutting.

Demi's POV

I wake up in the middle of the night to crying from Hayley's room. I walk down the hall and slowly step into the room. The crying is originating from the bathroom. I knock on the bathroom door, since it's locked.

"Hayley?" I beg. "Can you please let me in?"

"No, leave me alone!" she sobs from the other side of the door.

"Please, Hayley," I plead. "I can help you."

"You can't! No one ever will."

"Hayley," I warn. "I have the key, which I will get if you don't open the door."

"Fine."

The latch on the door clicks and the hinges squeak as the door slowly opens. Hayley is wearing shorts and a t-shirt that is much too big on her and her face is tear-stained. I reach out to hug Hayley, and she haltingly accepts. As she pulls away I see a few lines of blood that have soaked through the shirt.

"Hayley, what happened to your shirt?"

She looks down. "Nothing!" she quickly defends.

"That is not nothing," I reply sternly. "Lift up your shirt right now!"

Slowly and carefully, Hayley lifts up her shirt. She was cutting and is still bleeding.

"Come here, Hayley." I put my arm around her. "What's wrong?"

"I just miss Mom so much!" She bawls into my shoulder. "If my mom didn't live, than why should I?"

"Hayley, your mom wouldn't want you to die."

"I DON'T CARE!" Hayley screams. She runs from my grip and onto the bed, burying herself under the blanket. Her bleeding on the blanket is the least of my worries right now.

"Please let me help you, Hayley," I plead, sitting on the side of the bed and placing my hand on her back.

"Why do you care? I'm just another fan, another girl, and it's not like anyone other than my mom ever even cared about me."

"Baby, of course I care about you. Your life is no less than mine and you deserve, need even, some help."

Hayley's body shakes beneath my hand as she cries.

"Come on, sweetheart," I say. "You can come to my room with me."

I pick her up, still inside the blanket, and carry her to my room, laying her in my bed.