Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Translations: I decided to do something else this time. I put the translations behind the sentences… I hope that's better?
Every rose has it's torn,
just like every night has it's dawn.
"Je moet het ze vertellen Miley, ze hebben her recht om het te weten. (*You have to tell them Miley, they have the right to know.)" Demi held onto Miley's hand tightly. They were standing in the hallway, while the Jonas family, minus Paul and Frankie, were in the livingroom. Miley was sure they were talking about her, it was something she could feel. "Ze gaan het wel begrijpen, dat weet ik zeker.(*They will understand, I'm sure.)"
"Dat gaan ze niet Demi.(*They won't Demi.)" Miley bit her lip, shaking her head. "Maar ze hebben inderdaad het recht om het te weten.(*But they do have the right to know.)" She glanced down, and when she looked up Demi saw the tears that had welled up in her eyes. "Maar zeg ze alsjeblieft niks over dat snijden. Ik wil echt niet dat ze dat weten.(*But please don't tell them about the cutting. I don't want them to know.)" She sniffed and wiped away the tear that slid down her cheek. Her best friend got a look of hesistation on her face. "Asjeblieft Demi.(*Please Demi.)" She sniffed again, and her friend cracked, nodding her head slowly. "Dankje.(*Thank you.)"
Demi sighed, shaking her head again. "Oke, Oke." She then pushed the door to the livingroom open, dragging Miley inside with her. Four pair of eyes turned towards them, and they made Miley duck her head and struggle against her grip, but she just held on tighter. She felt the hand shake, and she loosened her grip slightly, but not too much so Miley could bolt out of the room. "Uhm," She looked at the family in hesitation. "I think we owe you a huge explanation." She turned to look at Miley as everyone kept silent, and they just stared at them. "Wil je dat ik het vertel?(*You want me to say it?)"
Miley quickly nodded, and she tried to hide herself behind Demi's body. But since she was taller than the blackhead, it was hard.
Demi took a breath, glancing back at Miley and squeezing her hand tightly. She pulled her with her and sat down on the empty couch. "Three years ago," She looked back at Mile again, who was shaking slightly, and had her head ducked again. "we met this boy. He was two years older, but we didn't think it mattered in a friendship. But then he started to show interest in Miley as more then friends..." She paused, feeling Miley's grip tighten on her hand. "We thought we knew him, so Miley said yes once he asked her to be his girlfriend. The first few months went well. He took her out on small dates, showered her with presents.."
"..but then it went horribly wrong." Demi could hear Miley gasp for air, and begin to shake even harder then she was before. "He started pushing her into things she didn't want to do. Stealing.." She looked at each of the people in front of her one by one, before she looked at Miley, who was now fully sobbing. "...sexual activities," She continued. "But when she refused, he started to get abusive." She could hear a gasp, but was unsure if it had come from Miley, Denise, or any of the boys. "It even came to the point where he raped her, and then.." Tears rolled down her cheeks, and a sob escaped from her. "..then he beat her till she was almost unconscious. She was so lucky Mitchel had found them before he could do any more damage. Otherwise she might have.." She chocked on her words, tears rolling down her face at a faster pace.
She looked up. She saw Denise hold her hand in front of her open mouth, tears gathering in her eyes. Joe, Nick and Kevin almost looked the same, they stared at the small, shivering form of Miley, and Nick even had a tear rolling down his cheek. She looked t her side to see Miley jump up from the couch and then rush out the room. Demi shook her head and buried it in her hands, knowing exactly what Miley was going to do in the upstairs bathroom; throw up and cut her wrist.
She didn't want help, she always said she didn't need help. Demi could hear the bathroom door fall shut, and she shook her head once again. She could feel the eyes of every other person in the room on her, and she stood up from her seat. "I'm sorry," Her voice was thick, and laced with her Flemish accent. "it's still hard on her, on both of us actually." With that she quickly left the room, just in time to hear the toilet flush upstairs.
She opened the door towards their shared bedroom, giving one last glance at the bathroom door before she disappeared inside. She dropped herself onto her bed and grabbed her phone, that laid on her bedsides table to charge, and typed in the, to her, familiar number. "Mitchel," She choked out. "Ze is het weer aan het doen,(*She's doing it again,)" She was silent to listen to the boy on the other side of her call. "We hebben ze verteld over, je weet wel wie, ik ben bang dat ze deze keer verder gaat dan normaal.(*We told them about, you know who, I'm scared that she'll go further than normal this time.)" She tried to fight against the tears that clouded her vision, but one still rolled onto her cheekbone. "Ik weet gewoon niet meer wat ik moet doen.(*I just don't know what to do anymore.)" She hiccupped.
"Ik probeer alles Mitch, maar het werkt gewoon niet.(*I'm trying everything Mitch, but it just doesn't work.)" She breathed in deeply. "Ze is zelfs bang voor de zoons van de familie waar we zitten. Ze flipt iedere keer als een van hen in de buurt komt.(*She's even afraid of the sons of the family where we're staying. She flips every time one of them comes near her.)" She was silent again, but her head snapped up when she heard a door slam close nearby. "Ik moet gaan, het spijt me, ik bel snel.(*I have to go, I'm sorry, I'll call soon.)" She tapped the cancel call button and quickly plugged her phone back on the charger and placed it onto her bedside table, just in time for Miley to enter the room.
The brunette pulled on her sleeves, and it was as if she didn't even see Demi as she placed her pocket knife under her pillow. Demi watched on as she gazed at the wall with glazed over eyes before dropping herself on her bed, letting a loud sob escape her as soon as she hid her head in her pillow.
-x
Miley wrapped her arms around her legs as she stared at the movements on the television with a blank look. She was aware of the person that was walking into the livingroom and sat down on the couch next to her, but she didn't pay any attention to him or her. It was around thirty degrees Celsius outside, but she was still wearing a thick sweater. The past months she was always cold, and that was probably because of her heavy weight loss in the past six months.
The sound of a guitar playing startled her, and her head turned to the left quickly. Her eyes landed on a person who was hunched over an acoustic guitar, his curls bouncing on top of his head slightly with every movement. Her eyes stared at his fingers, and how smoothly they plucked at the strings, throwing a soft melody across the silent room. She always dreamed of once playing the guitar, and her voice quivered slightly when she spoke to him for the first time. "Could you teach me how to do that?"
His fingers stopped playing abruptly, and his head shot up to look at her, causing Miley to shove herself back against the arm rest of the couch. "N-niet slaan, het s-spijt me!(*Don't hit me, I'm sorry!)" She hid her head in her arms, trying to make herself as small as possible. She whimpered slightly and peeked through the small space between her arms, only to see him staring at her with a worried expression on his face. She lowered her arms slightly and wrapped them around herself.
"You want me to teach you how to play the guitar?"
She nodded slowly, biting her lips while looking away. Somewhere inside her told her that he was safe to communicate with, that it was safe to get to know him. But still, something as well told her that all boys were danger, and that she should run from them as fast as she could. Her head snapped towards him when she felt the coolness and the weight of his guitar in her lap. She stared at him for a few moments before she turned her eyes on the guitar. It was a brown, reddish color, with black sides. She had never held a guitar, but it surprised her that it wasn't as heavy as she had expected.
She could feel him closer to her. She could feel his breath on her neck, and she could feel his hands near hers as he moved his guitar in position. She stiffened when his hand touched hers and placed it onto body of his guitar, near the strings. His own hand rested on the neck, adjusting his fingers so that whenever she would let her finger glide over the strings, a D chord would echo through the room. "If you move your hands across the strings, you'll hear the D chord." Her fingers moved, and the sound of a D chord swam around the room.
He moved his fingers into a new position. "A chord." Her fingers brushed past the strings again, and a different pitch in sound swam around them this time. He saw how the fingers on her free hand tried to imitate the position of his fingers. He grabbed her hand, and it clenched immediately. He didn't let go and placed it onto the neck of his guitar, positioning her ring, middle and pointer finger into the position of a D chord. "This is the position for a D chord." He released her hand, and he saw her relax. Her other hand moved across the strings, and the same sound as earlier rang through the room. He saw her gray eyes light up slightly as she moved her fingers across the strings again, the same sound filling the room again.
He placed his hand over hers again, moving her fingers till the were in the position of an A chord. "And this is the one for an A chord." Her fingers moved across the strings again as soon as he had released her hand, and the sound filled the silent room again and again. "D chord?" He watched on as she glanced at her hand, moving her fingers, but then hesitating again. He grabbed her fingers again, moving them around. "Here"
She could feel his warm breath brush past her cheeks. She turned her head slightly, her eyes widening as she saw him so close to her. Her body stiffened, her hand gripping the neck of the guitar a little tighter. She saw something flicker through his eyes, and that was the moment she scrambled away from him. "I-I," She placed the guitar between them and jumped up from the couch. "I need to go," She brushed a lock of her curls away, and she didn't notice how her sleeve dropped slightly, revealing her wrist.
He was on his feet within the next ten seconds, grabbing onto her wrist, causing her to stiffen at his touch. "What's this?" But before he could look at her wrist better, she had pulled it from his grasp, pulling her sleeve down over it. "Miley?"
She had her arms crossed across her chest, biting her lip and looking the other way. "It's nothing." She said in a small voice before she turned around and practically ran from the room. He stood there, staring after her disappearing form. A frown slipped onto his face when he heard the upstairs toilet flush. His head snapped towards the side when someone entered the livingroom from the kitchen. Demi stopped walking as soon as she saw the look he wore on his face.
"What?"
"Tell me what's wrong with her."
The black haired girl raised her dark eyebrows at his demanding tone. "What wrong with who?" Her accent laced her voice as she spoke. Se walked past him and sat on the couch, folding her legs underneath her as she placed her glass of orange juice on the coffee table.
"I saw the scars Demi."
He saw the girl freeze as she bend towards the coffee table as she wanted to place her glass down. Her head snapped towards him, her eyes big and frightened. "What scars?" She sat up stiffly, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen from her ponytail. "I have no idea who you're talking about, or what you mean by scars Nick." Her voice was stiff, and her accent was even more noticeable. "I don't know anyone with scars that I know of."
"Miley's scars Demi, on her wrist." He saw her look alarmed at him, but her face showed calmness now. "I saw them, and I want you to tell me where she got them from." His eyes narrowed at the small girl, and she cowered back slightly when he walked towards her.
She suddenly snapped her head towards the hallway, as if she was called by someone from there, or from upstairs. "Ja? Ik kom er aan!(*Yes? I'm coming!)" She yelled and bolted up from her seat, leaving her glass of orange juice on the table. She was gone before Nick could react to stop her from leaving. He could hear a door slam close upstairs, followed by a frightened scream that sounded a lot like Miley, and then Demi's voice, telling her something in Dutch.
"What is all that commotion about?" Nick turned around to see Joe walking into the livingroom, a cookie in his left hand and a glass of milk in his other. "I've heard yelling, and doors slamming. What did you do this time?"
Nick scowled at him and grabbed his guitar from the couch. "I didn't do anything alright?" He snapped before pushing past Joe, who was just taking a sip from his milk. He had to spit it back out when he brother bumped into his shoulder, causing most of his sip to end up in his glass again, but some as well on his clothes and the floor.
"Dude!"
Just like every cowboy sings a sad, sad song,
every rose has it's torn.