Never Been Fixed (Demi Lovato)

Chapter 37

Chapter 37

BEFORE YOU READ THIS CHAPTER:

This is just to remind you guys that obviously, in the story, Robyn is supposed to be really quite mentally sick, and I've tried my best to portray her that way. For that reason, please remember to take everything she thinks/says with a grain of salt, meaning that what she says to herself is not at all the way any of you should be thinking, or so I'd hope. You ARE worth recovery, there is NO such thing as 'not skinny enough for recovery', your illness IS severe enough to warrant recovery, and finally you DO deserve recovery because you are amazing and I love you, whoever you are. So yeah just remember to please not get any ideas from Robyn's thoughts, because they are quite the opposite of what a healthy normal person should be thinking. If you DO have any of these thoughts or need someone to talk to, contact me here on Wattpad or on my KIK @emitt98210 and I'd love to talk because I know exactly how you feel :)

Robyn's POV

So, I'm assuming that after what you read last chapter, you think I'm gonna be all good now, right? That life is gonna be fine and dandy and oh so wonderful just because I told Demi I wanted to recover? Well guess what? I lied. Woopdeedoo. Big deal. To be honest, I lie a lot, and it's not something I'm proud of, however it's something I need to do. By telling Demi that I'm planning to recover, it'll get her off my case and I'll be able to lose weight and do all my other shit in peace. It's not that I don't love or trust Demi, because I do. It's just that I already know I won't be able to recover. Demi has way too much faith in me, faith I don't deserve at all. I've tried recovery so many times and it just never works; clearly it won't work this time either. I guess I'm just not cut out to be..."normal". I just don't deserve to be happy.

Anyways, that's just a little disclaimer so y'all kids aren't all like "Oh but Robyn I thought you were in recovery?" because I'm really and truly not worth recovery. I'm not skinny enough for recovery. I don't have enough cuts for recovery. I'm not ill enough for recovery, and finally I just don't deserve recovery. I haven't done anything worth anything in my 13 years on Earth, and my life doesn't seem like it'll be getting better anytime soon, so really there's no point trying to live. Sure, I'll pretend I'm happy, for Demi, but deep down just know that it's all an act.

Lost in my thoughts, I heard Demi mumble something.

"Huh?" I asked, shaking myself back to reality.

"Where do you want to go from here?" she repeated gently. "Do you want to keep going to school? Get homeschooled? Go to treatment groups? You know that what I want is for you to see a therapist, go to group therapy, and get a treatment plan, but I want to know what you want to do before I make any decisions."

"Do you think...I could have one last shot? Like maybe try going to school again, without a therapist, and just see if I can get into a normal routine?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Demi questioned. "How will I know if you're struggling, or if you're falling back into old habits? Will you take responsibility and tell me?"

"I will tell you, I promised," I replied eagerly. I really, really wanted Demi to agree to this plan because the less supervision I had over myself, the more freedom I'd have to do what I wanted.

Demi wrinkled her nose, considering the idea. "I...I guess we can try that. But if I see you cutting or starving in any way, it's straight to therapy. Deal?"

Score! "Deal!" I agreed. "Also, I know it didn't really go well the first time, but I'd like to try cheer again. It might be a little out of my comfort zone right now, but with a little getting used to I think I can make it work."

"I was hoping you might say that," Demi smiled. "My mom was--"

"A Dallas Cowboys cheerleader, I know," I said, cutting her off. "I'll make sure to text her first thing with the news."

"I'm proud of you, Robyn," Demi said, opening her arms for a hug. I leaned in and she enveloped me in her bone crushing embrace. I snuggled my head into her shoulder and took in the sweet scent of Demi's hair. I hoped dearly I would never have to leave here. I would miss this. I would miss Demi. Demi, my mom. Mom, a word that had formerly been so bitter and stale in my mouth, was now sweet and light as candy floss on the tip of my tongue.

Demi continued, "You have come so far from being that little scared girl you were when I found you barely a month ago, it's hard to believe you're the same person! I'm proud of you, baby girl. So, so proud of you."

"Thanks," I said, smiling feebly in an effort to disguise the tears that began to well in my eyes, because little did she know but I was, unfortunately, the exact same person I had been for the last year. I was the exact same person, and I was never going to change.

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AN: GUYS GUYS I HAVE A YOUTUBE CHANNEL NOW AND I UPLOADED MY FIRST VIDEO I'M SO EXCITED RFQJREFWJEWRVKRWGEKEVTK

Also if I were to open up an online merch store where you could buy Demi/5H/Bea Miller shirts and hoodies and stuff would anyone actually buy anything?

IF YOU'RE READING THIS COMMENT "I'M SEXY AND I KNOW IT"