Demi Lovato Imagines

Coming Home pt.2

"We've got the best people on the scene," the officer says firmly as he gets to his feet and starts towards the door. "You've got nothing to worry about."

You can see your mom open her mouth to reply with something cutting, probably along the lines of her daughter being kidnapped by this man for years so, yes, there is something to worry about. But your dad steps in just in time, thanking the officer before showing him out the living room. 

"We'll be alright," your mom whispers from behind her hands, more to herself than to you. But you nod all the same, lips drawn into such a thin line that they threaten to cancel each other out. She shuffles through into the kitchen, leaving you in the middle of the carpet, looking out the window. The flashing blue lights are back in tenfold, armed men dotted around the perimeter of the house for any sign of the people who want revenge for their foiled plan. 

"You were never supposed to get free," the officer had said. "We were never supposed to find their location. They're going to be looking for a way to get back their advantage."

You. He meant you. And you almost wanted to throw your head back and laugh at it all. Because they already have it. They already have their advantage. She's sitting right here, listening to the people who have done everything in their power to save her while she just lets him continue to ravage their lives as well. Your therapist said it was completely normal for you to feel guilty. You figure she only thought it was normal because you didn't tell her the whole truth. 

You didn't even tell her a part truth to be perfectly honest. 

"Where's your mother gone?" your dad quizzes once he walks back through. 

"Kitchen," you reply shortly, eyes down. You sense him walking closer though, placing one hand on your shoulder. 

"Hey," he whispers, and you look up. "S'gonna be okay. You know that right?"

You answer with a swallow, eyes wavering. 

"I won't let anything happen to you, okay? I promise."

You smile this time, and he turns and heads to the kitchen as well just before the tears fall. You can't believe you've let it get to this point. You can't imagine how you can make this any worse for your parents than it already is. They say they would do anything for you and Mae. Somehow, you suppose that won't hold so fast once everything comes out. You'll be long gone by then though. 

It's well after midnight when you hear the rattle from the bottom of your wardrobe. Darting out of bed, you open the doors and snatch the phone into your hands with a start, ignoring the cold temperature outside your nice warm duvet. 

"Hello?" you answer quietly, scurrying back to bed and pulling the cover up to your face so that your voice doesn't travel. Even through the quilted cotton, though, you can hear the way your voice shakes. 

"It's twenty-five-thousand dollars," he says in a flat voice. You can hear other people in the background. 

"Sorry?"

"Twenty-five-thousand. By Friday."

You feel your heart drop. But then you kick yourself. Why did you think he would be asking for anything less? Even twenty-five-thousand would be pocket change for him. You don't doubt the multitude of other cash cows he must have in this city alone. You're just one of them. 

"How am I supposed to get that?" you hiss, feeling the security from behind the phone and not face to face. But the frustration is more at your own stupidity than anything else. 

"I don't care how you get it, I just need it by Friday."

"That's impossible," you say, gripping the phone tighter in your fist. "Someone will notice. What would I need that much money for?"