Chapter 1

I never meant to fall in love. Especially not with her. She was always a big part of my life. But seeing as she bullied me and made my life miserable since my first day of kindergarten, she was never exactly a positive part of my life. I mean, it wasn't just her. She wasn't even the ringleader. Well, not until high school anyway. She was the only one who went to the same high school as me, so she kind of was the worst after we all left middle school. But anyway, I never did anything to her, or to anyone. They bullied me because I was fatter than them. I mean, I wasn't huge. I just wasn't super-skinny like everyone else was. I was always a tubby kid. They used to laugh at me, call me names. I mean, they were stupid names, things that I would laugh at nowadays. But as a kid, they hurt. And obviously, as I got older, the insults got worse. And by the time I hit high school, it was bad enough that I had to find a way to let it out, all the pain and the shame. So I started to cut.

At first it was just an experiment. I read all these articles, saying that it helped. I knew it was a sign of weakness, but I didn't care. I barely even cut deep enough for blood the first time, and it hurt like hell. But the pain did help, so I did it again. And again. I started wearing longer, baggier clothes, not only to hide the cuts but also so that if they bled the blood wouldn't show, and so they wouldn't rub. Of course, since I was wearing baggy clothes, the bullying only got worse. But it was okay, because I had a way of erasing all the pain. I started drinking too. Vodka, mainly. And only when the bullying was particularly bad. I even tried weed once, but I almost choked to death.

Eventually, I started making myself throw up too. It was an easy way to lose weight fast. Even though my mum and my sisters, Maddie and Dallas, always told me I wasn't fat, I would never believe them. They were family. They had to say that, right? I had no friends, no social life. I was all alone. Of course, there were the people that stared at me pityingly as I passed them in the halls. There were people who smiled at me when I saw them in town. But they never tried to approach me, to be friends with me. So I just stared right back until they looked away, uncomfortable. And I never smiled back. Smiling back would be like saying 'Its okay that you just ignore me and watch them hurt me'. And it's not. It's just not.

As you can imagine, my close family realised that there was something wrong with me. I mean, it was kind of obvious. But they didn't want to acknowledge it. They didn't want there to be anything wrong. So they just acted more careful around me and let me go on. They didn't realise the true extent of my problems, obviously. If they had they would have tried to help. But they didn't try, so they didn't see. I had never felt more alone than I did at that time in my life. Sometimes I considered just cutting a little deeper, ending it all. But then I would think about what my life could be, and what I could do with myself if I made it through high school. Maybe most of my dreams were a little unrealistic. But dreaming saved my life.

It happened on a Tuesday. I remember because we had had dodge ball. As usual, everyone targeted me. You only need to get hit once to be out. I got hit 13 times before the whistle had even blown. I counted. Every person that threw a ball at me would end up unemployed when I was president. I know it was stupid, but imagining that one day I would get my own back on all these people helped me get through the day. Afterwards, I changed in a toilet cubicle. I always did. They took the piss out of me if I didn't. But this time she followed me in.

"Hey fatty. Ashamed to show your body in front of everyone?" she spat. She was on the other side of the cubicle door, but I could just about see the mocking, disgusted look on her beautiful face. I could see her, stood there with one hand on her hip, her black hair falling perfectly over her shoulders. I sighed, ignoring her, and returned to what I was doing. It was once I had pulled my shirt off that she pulled herself up over the top of the cubicle. I gasped, using my shirt to cover myself. She looked at me, her eyes widening. I looked down at myself. I had thought I had lost a little weight, but I had never really looked at myself. My ribs were protruding underneath my barely-there boobs. I used to have big boobs, but they disappeared after I stopped eating.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You look like a skeleton." She whispered, staring at me with disgust apparent in her eyes. That hurt. A lot. She had said a lot of things, looked at me with a lot of different emotions in her eyes. But never disgust. I had never seen her look disgusted by me. I felt the tears spring to my eyes, but suddenly I couldn't fight the anger any more.

"You want to know what's wrong with me? You're what's fucking wrong with me! Ever since I was a kid, you and almost everyone else has bullied me for being fat, and ugly. For seventeen years, I have felt like shit. So yeah, I cut myself, and I starve myself, and I make myself throw up, because I don't want to hurt anymore. I don't want to come to school every day and be made to feel like shit. So guess what? This," I shouted, gesturing to myself, "this is your fault. I hope you're happy." I said, and then shoved past her and out of the toilets. I had grabbed my bag, and I pulled on the baggy shirt I had worn to school this morning as I walked out. I was still in my gym shorts, but I didn't care. It wasn't like I was staying in school.

"Miss Lovato, are you-Demi! Demi! Demetria Lovato, get back here now! Where on earth do you think you're going?" coach yelled after me. I knew she couldn't leave her office, not if there were students in the changing rooms, so I just ignored her and kept walking. I didn't pass any other teachers or staff on my way out, but the gate was locked. I sighed, leaning my head against it. I checked my phone; the bell was going to go any second now. I had to get out, and fast. I swung my bag over the top of the gate and pulled myself up. It was pretty hard to climb, but I was pretty agile. Not very strong, but I didn't have to be. I weighed almost nothing.

I groaned loudly as the bell rang, and students began piling out of classrooms. For a second no-one saw me, then there was a gasp and everyone started talking, laughing. I ignored them, concentrating on getting over the top and back down the other side. Miss Diego, the maths teacher, ran out to see what the commotion was.

"Demi? Demi! What the hell are you doing?" she shouted over the voices.

"Getting out of here." I replied, before jumping down, grabbing my bag and running off down the street, as fast as I could. I knew I couldn't go home, since mom didn't work. She would frogmarch me straight back to school, and that couldn't happen. Sighing, I slowed my pace. I walked straight past my house, past the park, past everything I knew. Eventually I veered off down an alleyway to avoid having to pass a group of scary looking guys, and found myself walking through the 'buggies'. That was what everyone called this place. It was a rough neighbourhood, most people tended to avoid it. I was glad I ended up there. It seemed kind of like fate. Maybe something bad would happen to me. Maybe I would get killed. It would save me having to do the job myself.