Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Demi jolted awake, releasing a loud scream as she saw the figure hovering above her, but then settling down once the light was turned on and she saw that it was just Max. It was always just Max, and she should've grown used to the alarmed look on his face everytime he had to wake her up from one of her nightmares, but she couldn't.
"You were screaming again," he said as Demi nodded because she knew that she was screaming and she had woken up, the same way she had woken him up the night before that and the night before that one too. She was always waking him up and she was starting to feel terrible about it, but she was too afraid to send him away.
"Demi, maybe you should go see Arnold," Max lightly suggested, because he knew it wasn't his place. His job was to keep her safe. She didn't want to hear his opinion outside of that.
"I'm fine," she breathed out, rubbing at her tired eyes. She knew Max was tired of her. She was kind of tired of herself, if she was being completely honest. But she was trying to deal with this on her own.
"You're not. You have these night terrors and when I wake you up you look at me like I'm him...like I'm going to hurt you. You don't sleep. You don't eat. You can't even move around this apartment without me being right by your side. You're not fine, Demi. You're paranoid, and I understand why but it is my job to keep you safe. He may be out of jail but he's not coming anywhere near you ever again. Isn't that what I promised you after New York?" Max reassured her, causing Demi to weakly nod.
"I just don't like seeing you like this," Max uttered out in defeat, causing Demi to nod again. "I'm right down the hall if you need me."
Then he left the room, returning to his own, and Demi sat in bed for a little while before she pushed the suffocating white duvet off of her body and made her way to the bathroom. Since she was living alone - besides Max - there was no need to hide the little bottle of blue pills that she had to get refilled after Trey threw them. She untwisted the white cap, dumping three of them into her palm before closing it again and swallowing them dry. The directions say one every four to six hours, but that did nothing for her. One wasn't enough. Three was just right. She ran the water and cupped her hands underneath it, swallowing a little bit of it before she turned it off and ran her hands over her face. She was safe. No one was coming to get her. She could sleep in peace. No one was going to hurt her. No one was going to hurt her. She was okay.
"I am okay," she chanted as she stared at her disheveled appearance in the mirror. Her weight had drastically changed, and that was reflected in her face. Deep bags were underneath her eyes, making it look as though she hadn't slept in weeks. Anyone who saw her would be afraid, would be worried, would be sympathetic. But no one would see her. She had broken up with Trey. She hadn't talked to Kylie after their blow out in New York. After ignoring everyone else's attempts at contact, they had just stopped trying. Except for Kris. Every night, she texted her "I love you." One of these days, she was actually going to respond.
