Hey guys! As you may know, this is my second story I started writing. I will warn you now, there are no couples (besides the brief mentioning of a boyfriend, but besides that NONE, so don't expect there to be couples). I intend this to be a story of Demi's struggle in rehab. That is all. Also, I am NOT hating on Demi and trying to make her life sound terrible. I actually admire Demi. It is just a story :) I hope you enjoy.

Demi's POV

I found out in October 2010 that it is hard to find people you can trust. Sometimes even your own family can be misleading. They should be there through thick and thin, right? Not always. Sometimes you need to feel the pain before you can heal. This is the story of when I went to rehab. Sounds dreadfully dreary, doesn't it? Maybe. But in the end, there is always light at the end of the tunnel. One girl taught me that. And to this day looking back, I'll never forget it.

I'm 24 now and currently living with my boyfriend Chad. Besides the girl from rehab, he is truly the only person I can trust. However, he doesn't know my past in depth. He knows I went to rehab, but he doesn't know for what. He knows my family sort of, but he doesn't know them well enough to speak to them on a normal basis. I mean, I don't even speak with my family either, not even on holidays. I refuse to let them control my life anymore. Plus, they let the rumors get to them and completely abandoned me But Chad will hopefully stick by my side despite what people say. So correction, he is truly the only person I trust with some stuff. But I have my secrets.

Do I still talk to the girl from rehab? Yes, but not as often as I should considering she helped me. Do I still think I have a problem? Yes, but I've learned to cope with what the girl told me. I think back often and use her advice to help better myself. However, I feel awful knowing I never did anything to help her. Who even knows where she ended up in life.

Flashback to October 2010

"Hi, I'm Demi Lovato, I would like to check in." I said confidently. Many people would hate to admit that they were ever in a rehab clinic, but not me. This was my last hope.

"Hello Ms. Lovato, please fill out these forms and we'll be happy to accomodate you," she said with a smile, but I heard the fakeness in her voice. A big celebrity like me purposely checking into rehab, that definitely caught her attention. I wouldn't be surprised if I made the cover of some magazine by the end of the week. That will probably help pay for her bills. I rolled my eyes in disgust.

First question, name. Demetria Devonne Lovato. Nickname. Demi.

I filled out the rest of the forms with ease except for the question. "What do you wish to seek treatment for?"

I only feel this question is really specific. While my problem is a lot of things. I also feel this could one day be used against and me and get out somehow. To play it safe, I simply write: "I'll let you know once I figure it out."

I walked up and handed the clipboard to the receptionist. She glanced back up at me, took the clipboard, and looked back down.

"Thank you Ms. Lovato. We will call you when we have set a program for you." She said, scanning the papers to make sure I filled everything out properly. She obviously was oblivious to my generalized answer.

I left the building using the back door in fear of the paparazzi seeing me. I don't care to be honest because there is definitely some kind of security camera filming me no matter where I exit. I walked around the building checking to see if the coast was clear and headed to my car. I made it out on the highway having no paparazzi see me. This was confirmed when I saw no headline of me on Oceanup or Perez Hilton. I sighed in relief.

Approxiamately a week later, the rehabilitation center called. However, my father picked up the phone.

"Hello?" He growled into the phone. He hated this fame thing, thinking that the phone call will be some kind of stalker person looking for information.

He gave curt replies to the person on the other end of the phone. He didn't actually know I signed myself up for rehab. I embraced for the impact.

"Demi... you signed yourself up for rehab?" He said, surprisingly in a hushed tone.

"Yeah. I'm not myself dad. Please don't be mad," I said, feeling the tears forming.

I knew it was too good to be true. "Demetria! I swear if this EVER gets out and you put out family at risk or get us overly exposed, you will NOT live this down! I SWEAR!" He screamed, slamming the door.

I began bawling my eyes out. How could someone be so cruel to their struggling daughter? One thing I was happy about, my father never hit me. But I'm sure the thought crossed his mind.

I slept all night, waking up with the rehab papers on my nightstand showing me the outline of my program. They showed it as a 6 month program which I figured was because of my generalized answer. However, I couldn't find one thing that didn't pertain to me in some way. Who knew I was so vicious.

My program started the next day. I woke up and packed my bags and made sure to make myself look unrecognizable. I didn't bother saying goodbye to anyone but my younger sister. I kissed her forehead and said that I would be gone for awhile. She didn't understand but I gave her a reassuring hug.

I drove to the building where paparazzi were everywhere. Great. Note to self, use a fake name next time.

I got out of my car and made my way towards the building being ambushed with questions.

"Demi!"

"Are you pregnant?"

"Are you doing drugs?"

"Why are you here?"

"What do you want to say to your fans?"

I just ignored them, but I realized my father wouldn't be happy hearing about this. I just put my family in jeopardy.

Review please, and sorry for the short chapter. This may be only be a few chapters, we will have to see. :)