Saved By Demi Lovato (Saved Series- Book 1)

Chapter 10

Today is Saturday. I am allowed to eat breakfast in the cafeteria, but I'm still watched with a very close eye. It's no surprise; the people here think I'm unpredictable. After breakfast, I talk with my therapist. It doesn't feel as awkward anymore, but it feels more like I'm talking with someone who understands what I'm going through. It's a refreshing change.

 After lunch is visiting hours. Once parents start filing in, I watch for my own. I don't know what I will say to them, but since it's my first visiting hour and I had some problems, my therapist will be joining us.

I sit with the other patients, still waiting. I absentmindedly watch the other intakes meet up with family, friends, and loved ones. My parents aren't usually late, to anything, so I start to worry that they may not show up.

 "I'm sorry," my therapist says, interrupting me from my daydreams. "Your parents called to say they can't come today. They'll make it next week, though."

 Even though I wasn't sure if I even wanted to see my parents today, tears start to form in my eyes and I blink to keep them hidden.

 "That's alright," I reply. "I'll just go back to my room." I stand up off the chair and speed-walk back to the room for some privacy to cry in.

Lunch is a little more interesting than a shake this time, and although I feel fat for thinking it, the salad is amazing. I guess I'd forgotten how great food could be. Of course, it's not so great when it makes me fat, but maybe I could get used to eating smaller amounts again. Still, I don't think I'll ever completely get over my food problems.

I sing some more in the afternoon, and Rebecca (another girl my age) comes to join me. She's part of a few choirs and we actually have a lot of fun together. It turns out that she's also a Lovatic and we pass most of the afternoon away before it is time for another group therapy session.

 Throughout the week, I start to get used to eating small portions at meals, sing as much as I can, and make some more new friends. It passes so quickly, in fact, that I have to be reminded by my therapist that my parents are coming.

 "I don't know if I can do this," I tell her. "What if they just remind me of everything that makes me feel worse?"

 "Don't worry. I've talked to them a bit about what they should and should not say. I'm sure you miss them by now."

"I guess." I sit down in the same chair as I did last week and wait.

As parents start to come in, my heart begins to pound. I feel extremely anxious. As of the past year or so, I don't have very many pleasant memories with my parents. My foot bounces up and down on the floor.

 "Sam?"

I look up and see my parents, standing in front of me. They look almost happy, as if they missed me. I stand up and my therapist joins us in a meeting room.

 "Sam is doing a lot better this week," my therapist says.

 "That's good," my mom mumbles.

"And she's improved a lot. She also has something to tell you."

I take in a deep breath. "Mom, Dad, I don't think I want to skate anymore." It's hard to tell them, but I know that I have to.

 "Oh, Sam. I was almost hoping you'd say that."

 I look at my mom is surprise. "Really?"

"We realized that we pushed you way too much to do something that you didn't seem to enjoy, especially this last year. And we know that we played a part in your eating problems by forcing you into skating so much," she continues. "We are really sorry, Sam."

 "It's okay," I reply. "I forgive you, but I don't just want to stop skating... I really want to sing."

"Well, we could sign you up for some lessons once you're back home," Dad says his first words since my parents came.

 "Thank you."

The rest of the hour passes fast, and the conversation seems much more lighthearted than talking with my parents ever had before. I know that my mom still wishes that I would keep skating since I've worked so hard on it my entire life, but I lost the spark and I don't want to go back. I just hate the feeling of letting people down.

 "Mommy! Watch me!"

I was 3 years old and it was my first time skating without the help of my parents. I only managed a few skate strokes before falling on my back, but I was smiling. "

Great job, Sammy!" she called back.

 I wake up with a smile on my face. I love my old memories of things that I've done with my parents and the moments that brought me to skating, but I just can't do it anymore.