you guys are so awesome...there are no words…

I understand your frustration, but don't worry. Lately I've just been in one of those 'doom and gloom' moods, but I think I'm going to sort some stuff out in this chapter. I can't make these two suffer forever ;D Besides, I'm gonna get all my doom and gloom stuff out in the new fanfiction I'm gonna write soon, but it'll have happy and sad and funny and… well, you'll see. :3

*EARLIER*

Selena

I wake up to the sound of my alarm clock. Moaning and groaning, I peer blearily at the blinking red numbers. It's only three in the morning.

At first, I think this is a mistake. My mind, still half-asleep, is completely foggy. Then I remember my job. My shift is in one hour, and I still need to shower and have breakfast. So I somehow managed to drag myself out of bed and into the bathroom.

The hot water wakes me up a little more. I smooth shampoo into my hair and close my eyes, trying to enjoy the soothing sound of water hitting tile. After I rinse all the bubbles away, I condition. I finish in around fifteen minutes, and emerge from the steamy room with a towel on my head and a bundle of clothes in my arms. Still not blow-drying my hair, I go into the kitchen and fix myself a bowl of cereal. Not exactly the most energizing breakfast, but I didn't really have time for anything else. It would take me around five minutes to walk there, and then I had to change in the bathroom.

With this thought in mind, I hurried through the meal and did my hair and makeup, styling everything to match the horrible outfit I would have to wear at Coopers. I'm still upset about that, but I'm sure I'll get used to it eventually. You can't survive this city without making some sacrifices.

By some miracle, I manage to make it to the restaurant with time to change. I avoid the mirror and put my clothes in the bag Chad had given me earlier, and then walk up to meet him.

"Where is everyone?" I ask, looking around at the empty tables.

"We don't open until six," he tells me, counting the money in the cash register

"Why am I here at four in the morning then?" I fight to keep myself calm. Did he call me down here at this time for nothing?

"You get to tidy up for two hours. It's the new girl's job."

I fight back a scowl and take the outstretched rag. "Great. Cleaning tables is my life's dream."

He laughs and continues to count. So I get to tidy tables… fantastic. I go around wiping every surface in sight, scrubbing hard. If I want to be respected as an employee, I need to work hard. Unfortunately, I don't know how I'm supposed to do this for two hours.

Surprisingly, it wasn't that difficult. I was barely finishing up in the kitchen when I heard a ding, signaling someone had walked in. At first, I couldn't believe that 2 hours had already passed. But sure enough, when I checked my phone, it was five minutes past six.

"Selena!" Chad yelled from the front. "We have a customer!"

I rolled my eyes. "Coming!"

When I went out to the front, I found a huge crowd already coming in. Breakfast rush, maybe? I didn't know who would get up this early to come see waitresses in gross outfits, serving sloppy food. Wait, I know a lot of people who would do that.

"Hey cutie, can I take your order?" I winked at a blonde who's back was to me. She turned, and I gasped. "Taylor?"

"Selena?"

We both stared at eachother, completely shocked. It took her only five seconds to react.

"What on earth are you doing here?" she sounded horrified. "This is not a place for a girl like you."

"I was about to say the same thing," I cross my arms, completely forgetting that I have a job to do.

"I'm meeting a friend. He got to pick the place, and apparently he has no taste…" she trailed off. "What am I talking about? I need to get you out of here!"

Taylor starts to get up, but I put a hand on her arm. "Don't try. I need this job, and it's pretty good paying."

"Good pay isn't worth wearing something like that," she gestured at my outfit. "Do you really like this job?"

"Selena, what are you doing! Nevermind, I don't care. Get back out there!" Chad is taking orders three times as fast as I could going full speed. He's flashing so many grins, I'm pretty sure his face must hurt. He really needs my help with this crowd.

"I'll talk to you about this later," I promise Taylor. "For now, do you want anything?"

"No, I'll wait for my date."

I walk to the next table and then the next one. Soon enough, I'm going almost as fast as Chad is. Between running around with trays in my arms and orders clutched in my fist, I'm getting quite the workout. I even break a sweat in the muggy environment.

"I think we actually got everybody." Chad comes up next to me, surveying the work we did. I nod, it appears that we did. When I glance at the clock, I realize I only have one more hour in my shift.

"Waiter!" someone called, holding out an empty glass. I see Chad sigh out of the corner of my eye. "I got this one."

"Thanks," I smile. The girl who needs a refill blushes when Chad goes over there. I can tell he's lying on the charm as thick as he can. When he leaves, he shoots me a look, like, 'help me.'

This just makes me laugh.

The lunch hour is upon us now. This place is so popular, it's unbelievable. Maybe the food isn't as sloppy as it smells. Anyway, it keeps us on our toes. Chad is running himself into the ground, and I feel bad for him. I skip my lunch break, ignore my growling stomach, and continue to help. He wouldn't survive without me.

"This place was never this busy until you got here," Chad runs past me, balancing seven orders and a glass of Pepsi. That guy can definitely handle himself in this job.

"I just came yesterday," I shake my head. "There's no way that's true."

"They all want to see the girl who… nevermind."

He hurries past me, getting the trays to the table and handing an old man his drink. I tilt my head. What was he about to say?

"You do realize that your shift is over, right?" Chad comes back and points to the clock. "Caitlyn will be coming any time now."

"Oh. Okay."

It only takes me a couple minutes to wiggle out of my outfit and into some more… appropriate clothes. I place my uniform over my arm and wave to Chad on my way out.

The sunlight hits me straight in the face, making me squint. I start the walk home, enjoying the fresh air and the fact that I don't feel exposed. I pass a magazine stand and I glance at The Now lazily, wondering how they're doing without me.

The image on the cover makes me stop dead in my tracks. I forget to breathe.

"You okay ma'am?" the guy who's running the stand peers at me, apparently concerned.

"Fine," I choke out. "Can you please get me one of those?" I gesture to one of the articles without thinking. It doesn't matter, the same picture is on the cover.

I fish out the money from my pocket to pay the man, and then jog the rest of the way home. I shove the key into the keyhole and hurry to my room, where I can read in peace. My eyes scan the headline, heart beating wildly.

All of this is about Demi and her cutting. How did this picture get out? More importantly, what's Demi going to do?!

Demi

I can't help it. I haven't cut in so long, but I'm weak right now. I go to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. Then, breathing deeply, I run the razor over my skin once again.

The familiar sting is comforting, reminding me of the time before I met Selena, when everything made perfect sense. When I knew what I was doing. When I knew who I was. Right now, though, I'm not sure who I am. I'm definitely not that girl in the magazine. The weak, selfish girl.

They were right about one thing. Right now, I'm completely lost. After what happened yesterday, and now this… was Selena trying to destroy me? She spent our whole encounter trying to tell me and herself that she didn't love me. I feel awful about choosing my career over her. Some good that did me.

I hate paparazzi. No matter how much you trust them…how much you think they're trustworthy. Even if you fall in love with them, you can't trust them. They just turn around and stab you in the back.

When I look down at my wrists and I see the lines of red, I feel even more out of control. Usually my cutting puts me at a spot where I know I am in control, not out of it, but Selena has put me out of wack. Now I just feel even more helpless and alone than before.

There's a bunch of sound coming from outside my house, and I know exactly what's causing it. There's probably the whole city's population of reporters out there, trying to get a glimpse of the weakling. The girl who cuts because she's human.

That's the part that makes me feel the worst. There are other people who cut all the time, and they just stay unnoticed. Because I'm a celebrity, it means I have to be perfect. If they see one chink in my armor, everyone is suddenly attacking my weak spot.

I'm dying inside. I can feel the light of my happiness dim, and then go out. When I feel the darkness eating at my heartbreak, I break down and cry. I'm not sobbing, I'm not screaming. There are tears streaming down my face silently, and I lean back on the bathtub and let the moisture drip into my freshly opened cuts, splashing red against my skin.

"Demi!" A familiar voice calls in my head, making me grit my teeth and cry even harder, but still quietly. "Demi! Where are you!"

Does my pain go so deep as to make me hear her voice? Am I really going to torture myself even further?

"Demi!"

The bathroom door flies open, and I look up to find the girl who broke my heart, staring at me. I open my mouth, but no words come out.

Selena

The second I read through the whole magazine article, I knew what I had to do. I drove over to Demi's house as fast as possible. When I saw all the people fighting to see her, I went around the back and got in through the back door, which was unlocked. I locked it behind me, and looked for Demi.

I found her in the bathroom.

She stares up at me with eyes dim and sparkling with tears. Her lip is trembling, and her cheeks are stained with running mascara. One arm is held out, and I run my gaze over the fresh cuts, not even sure what to do.

We're silent and still for what seems like forever. Finally, I can't take it. I lean down and take her arm. When she looks up at me with fear, I feel my heart clench.

"Stay strong. Didn't I tell you to stay strong?" Even I am surprised at the smooth, comforting tone of my voice. I don't feel calm at all.

She doesn't answer. She just continues to cry.

"Demi, look at me."

I tilt her chin up so her eyes meet mine. "Come with me."

She stays silent, but follows me into her bedroom, where I sit on the bed and hand her a box of tissues. It takes her a while, but she manages to sniffle her way back to herself. The next time she meets my eye, I can tell she's furious.

"Here to explain this?" she shoves a magazine into my hand. One glance at the cover and I know I have a lot of talking to do.

"It wasn't me, Demi. It was Miley. Somehow, she got the pictures off my computer yesterday and sent them to the magazines. Please, you have to believe me…" I can feel tears of my own starting to prickle at the corner of my eyes. "…please…"

She looks at me, black staining her face and eyes puffy and red from crying. All this because of me…

"I believe you," Demi says. "I do."

"Really?"

She nods, still unsmiling. "Now I see that this is all my fault."

"What do you mean!" I can feel my face heating up. "This isn't your fault! How on earth could this be your fault?"

Demi runs her hands through her hair. "When you were passed out, Miley gave me a choice. You or my career. After our conversation before, when you said you didn't love me… I just felt like you wouldn't even want me around anymore anyway, so I left. If I would have stayed… none of this would've happened."

"What are you talking about?!" I scowl. "This is my fault. I shouldn't have even kept the picture in the first place. I should have deleted it the second I saw what it was."

I feel so…frustrated. How dare she say it was her fault!

"Then why didn't you?"

The question spends me spiraling into my emotions and decisions. I go through every excuse in my head, before sighing in defeat. "I don't know."

I close my eyes and bow my head. She should hate me.

That's why I'm surprised when she hugs me. "That's okay. All that matters is that this wasn't you."

Demi

Selena's shoulders are shaking as I hold her close, and I realize it's her turn to cry. My phone rings, and I ignore it. She sniffs, then pulls away. "I should go."

I nod, and she leaves. My heart is still broken. Selena hadn't mentioned my confessed love to her at all. She's avoiding the subject so she doesn't hurt my feelings, I just know it.

My phone rings again, and I snatch it up and answer with a disgruntled, "what?!"

"Demi, I can't believe this! I just saved your sorry butt at the concert and now you go get exposed for cutting? Are you trying to lose fans?"

It's my manager. "What do you mean, you saved my butt at the concert? I'm the one who convinced her to go onstage."

"You did no such thing. I just slipped some juice into her water bottle to relax her, ah, judgment. I didn't expect her to get drunk on a couple sips."

"You what?!" I couldn't believe my ears. "She's so mad at me!"

"Obviously, her magazine is the first one to publish this ridiculous accusation. Those cuts are photo-shopped!"

I should have seen this coming. I should have known my manager wouldn't like this. He was always one to go to any measures to get what he wants. Now he's gone too far.

"Actually, those cuts are real," I yell into the phone. "Do you know how hard being a celebrity is? I haven't even dared going online, because I'm too afraid of what people have said about this whole cutting thing. I'm just sick of everyone thinking I'm perfect, because I'm not, okay?! Face it. I'm a human being, just like everyone else, and this whole celebrity treatment is getting old. I love my fans, but I can't handle the paparazzi anymore. And apparently, I can't even trust my own manager."

"Demi…"

"Save it," I snap. "You can't go drugging my friends like that. She's embarrassed for life thanks to you. I'm done with this stupid game. I quit."

I slam down the phone onto my bed, not even bothering to hang up. I can hear my manager screaming on the other end, talking about my responsibility and my duty to my fans. I know what I have to do now.

Practically cringing, I log into my computer. I need to assess the damage. I need to see how much my fans hate me. I need to face what this Miley chick has done.

The first message I check surprises me. I reread it, trying to be sure that I saw the words right.

Demi,

I saw the news about you cutting, and I just want to say that you shouldn't listen to anyone who says this means that you're a bad person, because I know how it feels and it's actually nice to see that you're not some god or something. Before, you just didn't seem real. Now that I know you have struggles like the rest of us, it just feels like I can relate to you and you just seem more… real. I don't know. I doubt you're even reading this. But thanks for being real: )

After going through even more of these, I realize that I have nothing to fear. My fans are with me, they're real fans. They aren't going to stop liking me because I have a flaw.

The longer I went through the messages, the more secure I felt. I could survive with this out. It wasn't the end of my career, after all.

It wasn't the end, after all.

Selena

I went home with confused thoughts. I don't know what I'm going to do about Demi. I don't know what I'm feeling about Demi. I stare at my reflection and realize that I wish she was here with me right now.

The emotions are all jumbled up and blobbed together. I don't understand myself, and it's driving me crazy. Whatever this is, I hope it passes, because I feel…lost. Like I don't have an anchor and I'm drifting. I have another shift tomorrow, and I know that I'm going to want a lot of sleep and I still need to eat. So I fix a sandwhich.

Taking a bite, I try to remember how I felt before I met Demi. I felt like… I knew what I was doing. Now I don't. My old dream tugs at my heart, my dream to sing and play. My dream that was crushed.

Someone rings the doorbell, and my heart jumps. I open it, and I see Miley and…Justin?

The two people who I hate more than anything else in the world.

"Hey, sweet thing." Miley leans towards me to kiss me, but I follow my reflexes and slap her as hard as I can. She stumbles back, hand on her now red cheek.

"Did I not warn you, I will…" she stars, but I don't let her finish.

"You already put the pictures out there, so you don't have any way to blackmail me anymore, blondie. You can leave. And my foot might hit you on your way out."

Miley smirks at me. "Darling, you did that all by yourself. Remember that email you sent for me? Guess what? That was you sending your precious little celebrity friend's career down the toilet."

I surprise myself by slapping her again. "Go."

The girl has the nerve to laugh. "I don't think I will."

Justin, who I've been completely ignoring, steps forward. "Back off, girl. That's my sister."

"Stay out of it, Justin," I say through gritted teeth.

Miley turns to me. "I think I'll come in, now."

She tries to push her way past me, but she's stopped by Justin. He puts one hand on her shoulder and shoves her against the wall. "Do you know who I am?"

She looks closely at him, then I see her eyes light up in recognition. "Justin Russo? You're related to Selena?!"

"You catch on pretty quick. Now I think you had better leave, before I take care of you the hard way."

Sending one last glare at me, Miley takes off. I back up, meaning to shut the door, but Justin takes this as an invitation and comes in. Now I notice he has an envelope in his hand.

"You go, too," I growl at him.

"A simple thank-you would be fine," he huffs, sitting down heavily on the couch. "I knew something was wrong. Seriously, Selena, I don't get you. You were fine with me back home, but now that you've moved to the big city, we've grown apart. You never call, we never hang out… what's going on?"

"I only pretended to be fine with you for Mom and Dad. They worship you, Justin. I'm just that one other kid they had that lives far away." Everything is just happening too quickly, and I find myself admitting the truth. "Look, you're living my dream. The dream I've had ever since I was a little kid. You stole it from me, and according to our family, you're way better at it than I am."

"Woah, woah. Hold up there, sis. I thought you hated my tissues."

Despite the fact I was mad at him, I had to feel a twinge of amusement. Even as a celebrity, he was still just a dorky, ignorant teenage boy.

"I'm talking about the popstar act, stupid. I always wanted to sing. Remember my performance?"

He winced. "I didn't think you were that bad, but apparently the rest of our family did."

"Plus every time we talk, you bring up your popularity, like you're trying to rub it in my face."

He looked put out, like he had no idea what I was talking about. "I never do that. Seriously, 'Lena, I don't get it. One minute we're cool, and the next I realize that you don't like me at all. I thought we were close."

"When would we have had the chance to be close," I blurt. "You were always doing concerts or tours or making new CDs or hanging out with your girlfriend."

His brown eyes darkened. "Please don't bring Juliet up right now."

I raise my eyebrows at him and do the opposite. "What's going on between you two?"

"She's just being…demanding, I guess? It took me forever to convince her to let me go over here. She's worried I'll meet other girls. Then, whenever I'm with her, she wants me to buy her every single thing she sees. I just feel like she's only with me because I'm famous, you know? To be in all the tabloids as Justin Russo's girlfriend."

I can't help but sympathize. "I guess you should probably break up with her."

"But I still have feelings for her," he groans. "I still love her."

Someone knocks on the door, right when I'm about to reply.

"For Pete's Sake, why is everyone coming to my house tonight? I have to get up at three in the morning tomorrow!" I complain, going to the door and opening it. All my protests vanish, however, when I see who it is.

"I needed to see you," Demi says, coming into the apartment. "We need to talk."

"I agree, but can it wait? My brother is here."

She looks confused. "You have a brother."

"Just follow me."

I lead her into the living room, where Justin is lounging on the couch. He looks up when he hears us come in, and I watch his eyes light up when he sees Demi. I watch him look her up and down, and I glare at him, though he doesn't notice.

"Hello, I'm Justin Russo, Selena's brother," he holds his hand out to her, and they shake. The contact makes my stomach turn.

"Hi," Demi says. "I'm Demi Torres."

We sit in awkward silence for a couple seconds, before I realize I have to put a stop to this. "Okay, well, Justin, it was nice seeing you, but I have to talk to Demi in private."

He looks hurt. "I come all the way down here to see you, and you kick me out to talk to her?"

"Speaking of which, why did you even come?"

Justin looks down and holds out the envelope. "I brought you that thousand dollars. I thought you might need it, even though you said you didn't. I know how stubborn you can be, and I wanted to hand deliver it myself."

I take the money, surprised. I wouldn't have thought he would care.

Demi takes a phone call as I stare at Justin, amazed. "You did this, for me?"

"Yeah," he smiles sheepishly. "I'm not such a bad guy, am I?"

We're both surprised when I hug him. "Thanks, Justin, it means a lot."

He hugs me back. "It's really no problem. I just need to be back in, oh, five hours."

"The flight back takes seven hours."

He just laughs, "I'm sure I can work some magic."

We part just as Demi puts her phone down, an excited look on her face. "Selena, you'll never guess what just happened. A studio called, and they want me and you to do an album together!"