Demi Lovato Imagines

Screwed

TW - (mentions of) rape

You can still kind of taste it in your mouth. Or maybe you're just imagining it. I mean, you brushed your teeth for a solid ten minutes afterwards so how any vomit could still be stuck between your teeth is a mystery. Which is gross to think about, I get it. But it beats thinking about the only other thing you could possibly be thinking about. The thing that's been eating you alive since last week. The thing that's been growing in your stomach.

You don't know how far along you are. Sure, you could go out and buy one of those fancy 'Clear-Blue-tests-that-tells-you-how-many-weeks', but try getting that in the house. Try getting that past mom! It would never work, and to be honest, you don't want to know. You don't want to find out the truth about how screwed you really are. Because it has to be a couple of months at least. Probably from that time Scott told you he was going to leave you if you didn't sleep with him. I mean, he didn't say it exactly like that but that was what he meant. And so you couldn't say no! You couldn't just let him go off and sleep with another girl because you were too scared to put out! So you did it. On his couch. And now you're here. On your bed. Knocked up.

Great.

"Y/n, I hope you're not going to be lying in that bed of yours all day now, are you?"

You close your eyes and roll onto your side, avoiding the sight of your mom standing, hands on hips, at your bedroom door.

"I'll take that as a 'no' then, shall I? 'Cause you've got lots of stuff you could be doing today! You could help me with the ironing. You could help your father in the garage, you know he loves it when you spend time with him. You could make a list of the things you're gonna need for going back to college--"

"Yes! Alright, mom, I hear you!" you groan, swallowing back another wave of nausea. You don't think you've ever been hit so bad by the morning sickness as you have today and so you could really do without this grief from your mother.

"Hey, wind your neck in, Y/n. Watch your attitude. I could be giving you a much harder time right now if I weren't feeling so generous here. You know, your father and I have been getting quite concerned with you lately always out late at night, coming home drunk, lying about hungover all day. And it's not just you we're concerned for, it's your sisters! You know how careful we need to be around here and you just don't seem to care!"

"I know that, mom, but I--"

"Well, then I think we need to learn a little respect, don't you? Maybe start by coming home at a reasonable hour? I'm sure Scott will understand if you tell him you're wanting to get back early so you don't wake the entire household up at four in the morning."

"Oh my God! Okay, mom, I get it!" you yell. But she doesn't. She doesn't get it at all. Scott's the one asking why you go home at all, constantly whining at you to stay over at his for the night and 'have some fun'. And you know what that means. So you always say no and peel yourself off of him at half three so you can walk home and be back before sunrise, tiptoeing upstairs and collapsing into bed so your family is none the wiser. Which you obviously thought you were doing a better job at than you are.

The drinking bit is just a side note. You do it so that you don't feel so nervous whenever Scott climbs on top of you and starts taking off your clothes. He says it helps you loosen up a bit and will make it more fun for you. You never find it fun. But he likes it when you let him - so you usually do. 'You're such an idiot' is something you've been telling yourself a lot over the last seven days.

"You know what, Y/n, forget it," your mom sighs, holding her hands up, "You want to go out all the time, fine. Go for it. But I'm telling you now, Scott won't hang around long. Boys don't like clingy girls. Just bear that in mind."