DEMI
I spent the better part of my day scrolling through my phone, my thumb dragging across the screen. Photos. Messages. Call logs. A whole world and a whole life I don't recognize. It's insane how much a phone reveals about a person, but with every swipe or scroll, all I see is the fragments of Demi's life; the Demi everyone misses, not me.
A part of me has been fighting to accept the fact that I have lost a good dose of my memories, and that before that, I was a completely different woman from anything I could have ever pictured for my life.
I've been going crazy wondering how I went from being the determined teenager who planned a five-years long, watertight revenge plot in honor of her murdered folks to locking lips and sharing a last name with my sworn enemies.
How the hell did I get to that point? Who else, besides myself, do I have a right to blame for the huge disappointing change of plans?
