welcome back! thanks for hopping by, i hope you enjoy this tiny chapter, sorry it's not longer ... & im also sorry that it's not that descriptive ngl i was rushing

The car ride was painful, to say the least. Demi was sure that Selena was jerking and swerving the car purposefully just to make her scared. Every time she would wince, Selena would snort and go even was so terrifying, Demi wouldn't be surprised if when Selena finally got home her house would be some sort of demon-worshipping apartment with pictures of her with doodled mustaches and arrows flung into her face. Except, it was a normal 1 bedroom, 1 bathroom apartment. There was an old, boxed-in TV, with just a sofa pointed towards it. The TV box had multiple items on it, including the button-popped remote that looked it it would be very hard to work.

"Why did you bring me here?" Demi turned, eyes full of confusion and some sort of rage.

"Why did you get kicked out?" Selena retorted, crossing her arms.

Demi paused, opening her mouth and inhaling, "None of your business."

"Tell me or I won't let you stay," she warned, but Demi shrugged and reached from the door.

"Okay, no wait, I wanna know really badly. Please tell me?" The girl practically begged, clasping her hands together in desperation.

"Cause of you," Demi answered stiffly, mostly because she wasn't really sure what it was entirely. Whatever it was though, it was always Selena's fault. Her life would be so much easier if Selena just wasn't in it.

"Kay, fine, don't tell me," Selena scrunched her nose, throwing her hands up angrily. The girl stomped into her closet, yanking out a ratted blanket and pulling one of the many pillows from her bed off and towards the bruised girl.

The pillow whacked her against the head, and the blanket swirled around her arm as it flew. Selena paused, moving to her closet swiftly and throwing her a pair of dark green shorts and a navy blue T-shirt.

"Uhm-" Demi started, stretching the waistband of the shorts. "These are short."

"Yeh, they're shorts…" Selena said, rolling her hands in a circle of each other, urging her to the point.

"Whatever," Demi shook it off, moving to her bathroom and wincingly ripping off her baggy jeans and long shirt. A full-wide mirror stood in doorway, and she gulped. It had been a while since she looked at her body, in its full velocity. She ran her fingers over her poking ribs, but then down to her pushed hips and sunk her nails into the skin. Demi hated herself, and looking at herself with all of the bruises and cuts made her loathing hatred even worse.

The girl looked away, pulling up the green shorts shakily. Gods, they didn't even reach a quarter of her upper thighs! She tried to pull them down, thinking that an extra few inches were crumbled in the inner workings. The shirt was worse, it fit tightly around her chest and hung loosely around her stomach. It was a bit short when she lifted her arms too, and you could see dark purple splotches rolling over her peachy skin.

"These-" she tried to speak louder, "These don't fit, Selena…"

"They should," Selena replied absentmindedly, yanking open the door - which Demi cursed for not having a lock - and investigating. "Those looks exactly like how they look on me, don't be dramatic."

Demi recoiled back, wondering when Selena had ever wore something so raunchy. She tried to think back to the school days, but all she could remember was freckled knuckles knocking on her cheeks angrily. She tried to walk forwards, pinks burning her cheeks as she did, feeling the short shirts ride up her rear as she walked. She stopped, bowing her head in embarrassment, "I hate these clothes."

Selena looked to her legs, taking notice of the cuts that also appeared on her legs. The girl snorted, trying to push it off and turning out of the bathroom, "I always sleep in those clothes, I know they ride up. It doesn't matter, there's no guys here anyways."

"Somehow you're worse," Demi admitted under her breath, scooting on her feet to the couch, trying not to move her legs.

Selena rolled her eyes, watching the girl wrap the knit blanket around her body in fear, cramming herself into the crook of the couch, as if she was trying to hide herself. It didn't matter, though-because Selena would always hate her… probably. Meanwhile, Demi urged herself to say something, but her anxiety was shaking her shoulders, asking what was wrong with her for thinking of talking at all. Footsteps echoed across the room from her, and it was clear Selena was going to bed.

"Thank you," Demi blurted, digging her nose into the pillow.

Selena heard, but she said nothing. She only pushed herself into her room and dropped her back into the comforter. She did not deserve that soft-spoken thank you that she barely heard. She did not deserve to be forgiven.

Loserville, population of two.

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