Left Out (Demi Lovato)

Chapter 44: Not On You

Hayley's POV

Although it's a little embarrassing to ask for help like this, I walk up to Demi's room and tell her that she was right. She tries her best to reassure me and lets me cry onto her shoulder and lay in her bed with her until my hysterics calm down a little.

After about half and hour of crying over the pain and shock of getting caught, I decide to tell Demi why I'm so sad in the first place.

"The thing is," I say, "I don't even know if my dad is dead or not! I just, I don't know what to do with myself and I just... I DON'T KNOW!"

"Hey, calm down a little," Demi replies. "If it means that much to you I can ask them about your father when I go to the police station on Monday."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you going to the police station on Monday?"

"Well," Demi answers, "Technically, I'm not your legal guardian. We also need to find you a last name; either the one you were born into or you could use mine."

"You really want to adopt me?" I ask.

"Of course I do. You're awesome and super sweet."

"But won't I, like, ruin your career?"

"No you won't, silly."

"Okay," I say, "Then, I guess I can take your last name."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I mumble.

"Are you nervous for school?" Demi questions.

"I guess so. I mean, I've never really had any friends other than Lydia, and what if I run into someone I know? I grew up in California."

"I understand," Demi says, "but I'm sure that you'll do just fine."

After another while in Demi's room, we go downstairs and Demi makes us lunch.

I eat it, then ask to be excused to go to the bathroom. I can't stop the gag reflexes.

"Half an hour," Demi says, grabbing my hand to stop me from walking away.

"Please," I beg, but Demi doesn't give in.

While Demi is putting the plates in the dishwasher, I run as fast as I can to the nearest bathroom.

"No!" I hear Demi call as she runs after me.

Her arms wrap around my waist and she pulls me onto the ground as I start to bawl.

"Why?" I cry as Demi carries me back to the kitchen.

"Trust me," she says, "you'll thank me later."

I doubt it.

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