"Demi Lovato is Craig's new girlfriend!"
You look up from the book you are reading, glasses sliding to the end of your nose. Bethany's red face wheezes in front of your eyes.
"Hmm?"
Bethany pants, holding her hand to her side to ease the stitch.
"Craig...his new girlfriend...is Demi - freaking - Lovato..." she manages to say between gasps. You close the book, keeping your thumb stuck inside to keep the page. You don't follow.
"What on earth are you on about?" you ask, even though you're pretty sure you heard her right the first time. But that can't be true, can it?
"It's on his Instagram...he just posted today - like - twenty minutes ago...I--"
She straightens up, putting her hands on top of her head to open her airways.
"...I ran all the way from class...I had to--...God, those stairs are a killer...I had to tell you as soon as I could..."
You're still reclining back on your desk chair, feet up on the end of your bed. From five floors up, your college room has one of the best views of campus. You say the only thing that holds any sort of reason in your head.
"And, uhh, why are you still following his Insta?"
Bethany rolls her eyes, dropping her hands to her side in frustration.
"Y/n?! Is that seriously what you're most concerned about right now?! Didn't you hear what I just said?!"
"I heard you," you shrug, opening the book again, "But I don't believe you. That dick always put fake-ass pictures on his Insta, I don't know why you're even believing it..."
You think about the time he posted that thing about his old childhood friend dying in some freak workplace accident. He used it to leave for the weekend and be 'out-of-contact' for at least seventy-two hours. It's amazing the lengths men will go to get away with cheating on you. You just don't know why he thought posting it on his public profile would be a good idea considering it only took a matter of days before comments started appearing under the caption calling bullshit on the whole thing. There never was a Billy Jones. Certainly not one Craig went to school with. And no one died from drowning in a vat of butter-fat. That's the part at which you kick yourself for being so gullible.
"But look at this, Y/n. Look!" Bethany pleads, holding her phone up to your face. You stare into her eyes for a good few seconds before finally giving in and glancing at the glaring photo.
It's blurry but you can easily make out your ex-boyfriend's tall, stocky figure. And unfortunately, it's also easy to make out the short woman tucked into his side. Her eyes are the same ones you see on the TV screen. Her lips the same as the ones that sang into that mic when she played here at The Forum in LA. There's no denying it's her and there's no denying the photo is real. Even talented artists couldn't photoshop something this seamlessly.
"I don't fucking believe this," you mumble, shaking your head. Bethany slides the phone back into her pocket, removing the evidence from your sight. Her eyes melt into something not too far from pity.
"I'm sorry, babe..."
"This is so unfair!" you cry, burying your head into your hands. Not even your best friend perching beside you and wrapping her arms around you can make you feel any better.
"I know--"
"No! This is a bunch of crap! How does he get to be happy after everything he's done!? How the fuck am I the one still paying for all of his shit when he's off living his life doing whatever the fuck he wants with no consequence?! How?! How is that right?!"
You feel Bethany shake her head against your hoodie. You don't doubt she feels the same way towards your ex-boyfriend as you do. So she doesn't try to change your mind. She just holds you for long minutes as you let the tears roll down your cheeks in memory of what happened last semester. The breakdowns and that doctor's referral. The threat from your parents that they were going to come down and pick you up early, taking you home for summer before you even sat exams. Beth was the one who reassured you that you could do it.
"You know this course inside out," she said, holding your hands inside hers as you questioned, yet again, if college was right for you, "You could do that exam with your eyes closed."
Because college was shit. College was a controlling, manipulative boyfriend who constantly berated every little thing you did until you cracked and found yourself crying on your bathroom floor at four in the morning. College was the entire Student Union trying to take down the video Craig posted of the two of you in bed, failing to act quickly enough before a good couple of hundred people saw it, and saved it, and shared it.
"It's not always gonna be like this."
You scoffed through your own tears when she told you that. But she was right. When you turned up to that exam, wrote your paper, and avoided the stares of the rest of the class, you felt liberated. You felt like you. And when you sat down in your first seminar of this semester, no one batted an eye. No one remembered. And so you tried to forget too. Which was going pretty well. Until now.
"I need to go over there."
There's a pause before Bethany lifts her head from your shoulder and looks at you incredulously.
"Go over there? Y/n, are you crazy?! You're not going anywhere near that bastard again!"
"I have to! I'm not going to let him do what he did to me to anyone else! I have to try..."
"It's not your mess! You don't need to put yourself in that situation again...Please, Y/n, just listen to me..."
"I listened to you when you told me he's got a new girlfriend. What if the same thing happens, huh? What if he does the same thing to her as he did to me? I'm going to feel like crap knowing I could have saved her from that."
"She's Demi Lovato! She's got, like, twenty-four-hour security with her, they're not going to let him do anything she doesn't want him to!"
You can see it in her stature that she regrets telling you about this in the first place. The way her arms desperately flail around to stop you from leaving.
"I don't think it works like that, Beth. I don't think her security it gonna be there in bed with them while he--"
The words catch on your oesophagus. You've made a point not to even mention the topic this term. You stand up from the chair, making sure your keycard is in your pocket.
"I'm going."
"Y/n, please don't--"
"I'm going," you repeat, coming toe to toe with her and pulling your shoulders back. Eventually, she breaks and steps aside, letting you past.
"I'll be back by dinner," you say over your shoulder, grabbing your purse on the way out.
"You better be," Beth warns. You know she will be full on ready to call the cops if you're not. It wasn't until last semester that you realised how good a friend she really is.
Running down the stairwell, you don't cast a second thought to the fact you lost your page in the book you were reading.
***
You use your fist to thump against the door.
"Craig!"
You thump again.
You hear him twist the lock inside the door before swinging it open. As soon as you lay your eyes on his smug face you feel the cold sweat of nausea blanket the back of your neck.
"Yes?" he asks with a smirk as if butter wouldn't melt.
"I need to talk to you," you say with as much confidence you can muster. It's not that you're scared of him anymore, no. It's just a pit of dread that opens up whenever you see him or think about him. You know what he's capable of.
"Talk away," he says, folding his arms, "But make it quick. I've got company."
You want this to be over as quickly as he does. So you clear your throat.
"You need to get your act together, Craig. Do you hear me? You dare put that girl through the same shit you put me through, I swear I'm going straight to the cops. I'm not kidding. This is my only warning," you spit, ready to turn on your heel and walk away. You can feel a tightness around your chest that started right below your ribcage. Now it's constricting your throat.
"I guess you saw my post, then," he laughs, eyes crinkling in amusement. You snap your head toward him.
"I'm not still following you if that's what you think, asshole."
"Mhm...sure," he snorts. Your blood boils. He knows exactly how to push your buttons. And before you can think it through, you've stepped right up to the door again, face centimetres away from his. You can feel his breath on your skin, making you squirm.
"Listen here, you prick," you say in a low voice. It takes everything in you not to grab a fistful of his shirt and rattle him back and forth, "I don't care about you, I don't care about last year, I don't give it a second thought," you lie through your teeth, "But if you think you can go about doing the exact same thing to every oblivious girl you manage to get into bed then you've got another thing coming."
You don't know why you even bother, though. You know, even as the words leave your mouth, that he will just laugh in your face and show you how he can do whatever the fuck he wants. So you're not sure if it's a blessing or a curse that he doesn't get the chance to before someone walks through from the back of the house, laying her tattooed hands on Craig's shoulders.
"What's going on, babe?" she asks as Craig pivots slightly, revealing her face. It's a strange feeling like someone has just sucked all the air out of your lungs with a vacuum cleaner. You sway on your feet.
"It's nothing, Dems," he says, trying to shuffle her back through the house. But she must sense his nervousness because she holds her ground, now looking at you directly and pushing against Craig's hands.
"Who's this?"
"Nobody," Craig persists. He stuffs his hands in his pockets when he notices you watching his every move. A flicker of relief ripples through your veins when you look at Demi's clear face. Her eye isn't bruised like yours was and her bottom lip isn't cut. In the moment, it's enough for you to feel satisfied enough to leave.
"Remember what I said," you hiss, stretching your neck so that he knows you're speaking directly to him. For a split second, something behind his eyes shifts. But you don't wait around to make sure it sticks before you turn on your heels and storm down the drive. You feel breathless and lightheaded as if Craig is radioactive and you're suffering from exposure.
From behind, Demi's familiar voice floats from the house.
"What was all that about?" she asks.
You hear Craig mumbling something and the creak of a door swinging shut. But the connecting blow doesn't come. The house is still open.
"I told you it's nothing!" Craig exclaims out of a rabble of squabbling. It's obvious Demi isn't taking that as the final answer, "She's just some girl I used to know!"
"Used to know how?" Demi interrogates. You slow your pace down, selfishly wanting to catch everything being said. Craig being stamped down into his place gives you more pleasure than you would care to admit.
"Why does it even matter to you!?" he snaps and your heart jolts. You remember that voice.
"I just--"
"Would you just leave it?! God, you're so damn paranoid!"
"Craig?" Demi's voice whines but you can't force yourself to turn around and comfort her. You're already on the way out and not willing to get sucked back in. Bethany was right - again - this was a bad idea. You need a stiff drink and maybe a good cry over a pint of Ben and Jerry's.
"Get back in the house."
"But, Craig, I don--"
"IN! Don't make me say it again!" he yells. Your legs keep moving, so far away now that the only reason you can hear this is because of how loud Craig is shouting. Suddenly, you hear a scuffle and the sound of something hitting against a hard flat surface.
Don't touch me, bitch.
"Ow, Craig, stop!"
"Well don't touch me like that...bitch..." he retorts angrily. He's learned nothing. He is exactly the same. Demi is going to end up like you, a duplicate of your shredded mental state eight months ago. Your resisted admission of this is the only thing that stops your legs from swinging back and forth and running away. You spin back to face the house again.
Quit crying, you're gonna have fun.
"Please! I'm sorry!"
"Don't you dare cry, Demi."
He's got one fist gripping the collar of her t-shirt and the other at the back of her neck. Her eyes are wide and terrified.
"Get in the house," he barks with a harsh shove, throwing her back through the front door. He's about to follow and slam it behind him before you shout out.
"Hey! Don't treat her like that!" you roar, storming back up the drive and back into the devil's mouth. It's mere seconds before you're stepping right onto the threshold.
"You're a-" you push against his shoulders, "-worthless-" and again, "bastard, you know that?!"
You keep pushing, taking more steps into the house that diffused you with so much heartbreak.
"You're the scum of the-" "-fucking earth-" "-and you don't give a damn!" "You don't-" "-give two fucks!" "You deserve-" "-to be locked up-" "-you absolute dickhead!"
He just laughs in your face, righting himself back to standing after each assault from you. You're tiny compared to him. You remember why you stuck it out for so long last semester. He can do whatever he wants with you. You both know it.
But then you catch sight of Demi in the corner, back hitting against the wall of the corridor, hand around her neck. And you remember. He could, not can. And you knew, not know.
"Come with me," you order in her direction. She backs further into the wall, shaking her head. You doubt she can keep up with everything that's just come to light within the last - what - minute and a half?
"Demi. You don't need to stay here. Not with him. Leave now and never look back. Trust me."
Her eyes dart to Craig who has his back to you. You know he's mouthing things at her to tell her to stay. And you know how persuasive he can be.
"No," she finally says to you, not looking directly into your eyes.
"Demi, please--"
"I don't know you," she says. You hadn't thought about that. Everyone knows almost everything about the celebs that live in LA. You can't quite avoid the hysteria when the chances of you bumping into them in the suburban streets is ten times higher than if you lived in any other city in this country. And so the relationship feels lopsided.
"It doesn't matter who I am," you state, repeating the words Craig used to fire at you repeatedly, "What matters is that you listen to me."
Craig cocks his head to the side, listening intently. It's surprised you how he hasn't said anything yet. Perhaps he knows he is going to get his way whatever happens. It's not like he suffered any repercussions after what he did to you.
"This," you flick your hands in his direction, "son-of-a-bitch is my ex-boyfriend. Before summer, he made my life a living nightmare...he--"
You're forced to swallow the sob that has crawled up your throat.
"He blackmailed me...and spread a video of us all over campus...He-he once locked me in this house! He wouldn't let me out for over two days!"
She keeps looking back and forth between you and Craig, trying to decide who to believe.
"He wouldn't let me see my parents...he took my phone from me...my boyfriend! My boyfriend did all this! And he's gonna do the same to you! I can see it! So can you! The way he put his hands on you back there!"
You can't keep the emotion down anymore. The thought of her being put through the same trauma you went through.
"Demi, please?"
She looks to the floor.
"Is that true?" she mumbles.
There's silence.
"Is all of that true!" she shouts croakily, shooting her focus to Craig.
There's another pause before he finally speaks.
"No! No, of course not, Dems, how could you even think that?"
"Well then what is she talking about?!" she wails, throwing her hands in your direction.
"I have no idea, babe! Seriously!"
You notice the skin around his neck is bright red in agitation.
"So you're saying she made this all up?"
"I--...I..."
"Well?"
"...Yh-Yeah...I am..."
A cold draft blows in from the open door behind you, reminding you of your desperation to escape this house.
"Go fuck yourself, Craig!" you blurt out, then turn to Demi, who looks at you with a watery gaze.
"Did he tell you you're his entire world? That without you, his whole universe is incomplete? Did he tell you he was willing to give everything else in his life up, just to keep you? Did he tell you you have the most beautiful eyes he's ever seen - that they glitter like stardust when the morning light hits them?"
It takes a beat before she turns back to him.
"How does she know all that?" she mumbles.
He just shakes his head.
"Craig! How does she know all of that? Answer me!"
"Because he said the exact same thing to me," you cut in. You can tell in her expression that she's doing everything she can to repress this thought. To shun the idea that she's been led on and seduced by this excuse of a man.
"He said the exact same thing - and then he hurt me. And abused me. And humiliated me. You're me eight months later. You're gonna end up just where I was if you stay."
She looks back to the floor.
"I've changed, Demi. Honest to God, I've changed."
The fact he isn't denying it anymore does nothing to you. You don't feel relieved or glad. You don't feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. You feel nothing.
"You think the way he manhandled you five minutes ago shows that he's changed? Do you, Demi?"
The bite in your tone tells you you're being a bit too aggressive. But it's frustrating to see her so blind to what you see - that, in a matter of weeks, she won't even be able to consider herself to be of any value. You hated that feeling.
"Ghaa - I don't know!" she cries, holding her fists up to her head. Her eyes squeeze shut and you can tell she's trying desperately to make up her mind.
"Trust me, Demi. I've changed. I won't ever hurt you," he smizes, stepping forward and reaching out to touch her arm. She flinches back though, shoulder blades knocking against the wall again.
"No, stop! Don't come near me, I-I can't think, I--..."
The only sound in the house is her shaky breath.
"Has he given you his ring yet? His family ring?"
She meets your eyes again, holds it, then slowly pulls out a chain from beneath the neck of her t-shirt. His silver ring dangles from it jeeringly.
"Two days after he gave me that...he filmed us...and the next morning...he posted it online..."
The way her chin wobbles tells you how much your words crush her heart.
"...I'm only trying to protect you..."
In one clean swoop, she yanks the chain from her neck, breaking it and letting the ring fall to the floor, bouncing once off the laminate wood.
"Take me with you," she breathes, still not looking anywhere else but into your eyes. You nod wordlessly, backdropping Craig's begging.
"No, Demi, come on...Please, we can talk about this...I'm not like that anymore!!"
She appears to ignore him, simply holding out a trembling hand in your direction. You take it softly, leading her with you towards the door.
"Stop, Demi, all your stuff is here! You can't just leave everything, I didn't--...you don't know the full story..."
The two of you are now out of the house, walking carefully down the drive. Craig's voice echoes from behind like a distant memory. By the time you have turned the corner and out of sight, she squeezes your fingers.
"I'm sorry," she says quietly. You look straight ahead.
"You have nothing to be sorry for...You had no reason to believe me...I realise I just looked like a mad woman off the street."
She grips your hand a little tighter, forcing you to stop and face her.
"No...I mean I'm sorry all of that happened to you...No one deserves that..."
Your throat feels thick with emotion again.
"It's fine. It's over now. I'm just glad you're safe...that he never got a chance to hurt anyone else again..."
She doesn't bob her head in agreement. She gives you the same pitiful look Bethany gave you earlier.
"It's not fine, though," she says, "Is there anyway-...is there anything I can do to help you? I have people...I can get someone to speak to you...I--"
"I'm fine," you interject decisively, "I don't want to speak to anyone, I just want to forget about it all."
"Y/n - it is Y/n, right?" You nod. "Y/n, that's not healthy, darling...please, just-...just let me get your number so I can-"
"Demi, this isn't your problem...I can handle it, I just-...the only thing I wanted was for you to get away from him..."
"Give me your number, Y/n."
"Honestly, it's fine, I don't-"
She cuts you off by leaning forward, planting her lips on yours. You can taste her strawberry lip balm and the way her eyelashes brush against your cheeks. You can't tell how much time passes before she pulls away.
"Give me your number," she whispers.
And you do.
Thank you for reading this - I had no idea where this was going (as per) 🤗
Please vote and comment if you enjoyed ❤️
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