Demi Lovato Imagines

Friend pt.3

You were finally getting out. Thank fuck. This place had been nothing but a hellhole where you were forced to do everything under the eye of a nurse. Eat, shower, use the bathroom...everything. And you hadn't even gotten used to it either. Granted - it was probably because you had secured an early release date. Just under two months - super! 

And it would have probably been even less if the stupid staff had managed to get someone in to assess you earlier rather than having you waiting around, successfully completing everything you were told to do. Because it turns out - when you remove the main reason behind your anxiety with food, suddenly you find it a lot easier to recover. Or that's been your experience anyway. Some girls in here are really struggling and you would try to keep your distance whenever they would try to share their thoughts with you. You didn't think you could bare listening to something that sounds so familiar. You thought it might just reinforce your creeping worries and shackle you to this place for longer. The best thing for you to do is get home, apply for college, and get your life back on track. Put everything with her behind you. Do anything you can to distract yourself from the reasons that got you in here. 

Talking about home, you had developed a slight pit at the base of your stomach every time you thought about it. Sure, nothing would overpower your desperation to get back to normality, but you were worried about being back in your parents' company. They hadn't visited you since you were admitted under their orders - that were apparently valid enough to cause extreme concern from your doctor, blah blah blah. To you, you had had almost two months to think about the sketchiness of that whole situation. Like...they suddenly developed an extreme fear for your health after one phone call from Demi? Enough for them to immediately send for professional help? 

Sounds fake but okay.

Sometimes, late at night, you question whether they would have taken it so seriously had one of your other friends called. One who wasn't famous. Was it Demi's reputation that ignited them to take such drastic action?

So anyway - no - you hadn't seen them. They told your doctor that they felt it would be better for your recovery to just think about yourself and not have them coming in on visiting hours just for you to ask what else Demi told them on the phone. 

What do they not get? You're done with that woman. You're not friends anymore! You don't want to hear what she said as she tattled down the landline all those weeks ago. 

"Y/n! Your dad is here," the receptionist chirped breaking you from your thoughts. Giving her a slight wave as you leave for (hopefully) the first and last time, you head for the sliding glass doors.

And besides, you imagine Demi's plastered your story all over her social media anyway, telling the world how she helped yet another person from themselves. You figure she will probably leave out the detail that this 'person' used to be her best friend. And also the fact that this 'person' told her to her face that she was the reason for drinking...and losing weight. 

You immediately recognise the dark green family car parked up ahead and make your way over. Your dad slides out of the driver's seat and walks a couple of paces to meet you, pulling you in for an awkward hug. 

"Hey kiddo," he smiles before taking your bag from you and dropping it in the back seat.

"Hey," you respond flatly. Is this all you're getting after being removed from your home for two months?

Accepting the fact that this was going to be an uncomfortable silence-filled car ride, probably because your dad doesn't want to know the details of what he put his own daughter through, you return to your chaotic thoughts.