Demi's point of view

I just got home from the party and my feet are killing me. These wedges gave me blisters on my heels and on my toes. They're bleeding pretty badly and the feeling is even worse. I quickly kick them off and sit on the couch. My mom's not home, but this doesn't surprise me. I really couldn't care less. She's useless anyways.

Dallas comes rushing out of the bathroom in her work uniform. She is a waitress and she also has a side job as a nanny. We need all the money we can get. She refused to let me get a job though. She says I need to focus on my schoolwork.

"How was the party?" she asks, as she looks around the kitchen for something.

"It was pretty fun," I reply with a shrug.

She stops what she's doing and turns to me. "You didn't drink or anything right?"

"No," I lie. "It was just a few friends hanging out and watching movies."

"That's my girl," she says with a huge smile on her face. She comes over and kisses me on the forehead. "I have to go. I have a shift from 11 to 8 tonight. I left a little money on the counter for pizza. If mom comes in, make sure you hide it."

I nod my head and give a fake smile. I hate lying to Dallas. She does so much for me and I can't even tell her the truth? I'm such a worthless human being.

I get up to walk into my room.

"Oh Demi?!" she calls as she's walking out the door.

"Yeah Dal?"

"Maddie is sleeping over her friend's house tonight. I dropped her off earlier."

"Okay. Bye, have a good day at work."

Dallas leaves quickly and locks the door behind her. She's going to be late for her shift. It's 10:54 and the restaurant is 10 minutes away.

I sigh in frustration and go back to my bedroom. I lay on my bed and start thinking. I think too much and I start to feel hatred. There's the usual hatred for my mom, but then there's also a little hatred for Trace. I sit back up and walk out to the bathroom. I sit down on the toilet seat and examine my arms. There's many little scars all over. There's also some on my stomach. I don't know why I do this, but I need to. I pull out a razor that I had hidden and put it to my wrist.

"Don't do this Demi," I whisper to myself. "You don't need to do this."

But I do. I really do. I can't focus on anything but self-hatred if I don't. I need to. Besides I deserve this. I deserve this for lying to Dallas. I deserve this for being addicted to drugs. I deserve this for being ugly. I push deep into my wrist and blood comes flowing out. I cut really deep but I don't even feel the pain.

Blood drops onto the floor and I quickly get up and run by arm under the water. It burns really bad but I don't care. I'm used to it by now.

After a few minutes, I withdraw my arm from the water and examine the wound. It's pretty deep and it's going to be hard to hide it. I feel so much better though. I feel like a huge burden has been lifted off of my shoulders.

I wipe the blood off my floor and go back into my room. I put a band aid over the cut for now. Later on I'll put on a bracelet to hide it. I lay down on my bed but I feel something jab at my boob. I pull out the piece of paper with Joe's number and just stare at it. If Trace ever saw this I'd get hit so badly. I open my flip phone and put in the number. I put the name as Sarah, so that way Trace doesn't know that it's a boy's number. I then discard the small piece of paper.

I don't know whether I should text Joe now or not. If I text him now then he'll think I'm like a super stalker or something but if I don't text him he might get offended. I decide to just text him so that way he has my number.

"Hey it's Demi."

"Oh hey Demi."

"I was just texting you so you'll have my number."

"Alright, thanks. How are you?"

"I'm good."

"Okay, so how about the real answer now?"

"I'm living so I can't be doing too badly."

"Alright. Hey I've got to go pick Frankie up. I'll talk to you later. Bye Demi."

"Bye Joe."

I close my flip phone and just stare at the messages for a little while. They don't say much but for some reason they're important to me. I smile as I read them and I realize that Joe has made me happier in four minutes than Trace has in almost two years.

I don't think I want to be with Trace anymore. I don't think that I've wanted to be with him for a while. I know I can't leave though. He'll never let me leave. I shake my head and walk over to my stash. I'm not proud of this either but this is also something I need. Cutting, drinking, and drugs are my addictions. Can a person be an addiction? I can see myself getting addicted to Joe really fast.