CHAPTER THREE:
Nicks POV
He was scared.
What if she was another Miley? What if she didn't like him?
That was it - she pined for Joe. The thought spread sickeningly through his body, causing a bubbling feeling of hatred for her to spew out tactless remarks.
He loved her, but she only had eyes for Joe.
Why not me?
How could he covver his true and heartbroken feelings?
Act like he hated her. Despise her. Could he do it?
It was the only way to avert his affections.
Demi's POV
I burst through the two front doors, leaving them swinging wildly in the salty gale behind me. Thrusting myself up the wrought-iron-clad steps, I disappeared into my room. My sanctuary.
The imported Russian drapes clinging to each windows' every curve; the lusciously shaggy gold carpet bordered with a purple worthy of magestic royalty; a violet bedspread bedazzled with glittering gold jewels; and a -
Meter. My diabetic blood sugar measuring device.
A pit of anger aroused within me, willing me to destroy the marker of my disease.
If you ignore it, its not there.
Thats what my doctor had said, though in slightly different context.
Ignore it, Demi.
I picked up the smooth (except for the tangible buttons) and charcoal grey meter. Pressing a button hesitantly, a glimmering and shiny silver steel needle poked it's head out, and I winced involuntarily as it continued to slide out, making it's entrance. A tear slid down my face. Why me?
Take it to the window.
I followed the voice within my distraught head.
Open the window.
I lifted the pane up and a gust of sea air, violent with tough winds, greeted me. The clouds looked even darker, an omen.
Throw it. Let the wind take it. You'll be free.
Breathing deeply, I closed my eyes tightly and released the diminuitive object into the fierce wind. Opening them, I couldn't see the meter - gone.
"Demi? Demi?"
My mother was yelling for me. Wrenching open the door, I gulped and answered.
"Have you taken your insulin shot yet?"
A particuarly cold burst of wind shot through me.
"Yes."
The first of many cold lies.
