Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Is something wrong?” I hear Trish ask. I snap my eyes up to meet hers to find every single eye in the room on me. “Do you not like it? I can make you something else.”
“Oh, um-”
“No,” Nate cuts me off as his heavy glare returns to me. “It’s fine. She’ll eat it.”
“Nate,” his mother scolds in horror at the way he’s just spoken to me… if only she knew. She goes to reprimand him but I stop her.
“No,” I say, ripping my eyes away from Nate. “It’s fine. I really like it. I’m just not very hungry.”
Her eyebrows furrow as she looks between me and Nate, trying to figure out whatever secret is clearly hidden between us. “Oh… are you sure?”
“Yeah,” I smile before looking back down at my plate and lifting another forkful to my mouth. “I’m sure.”
I chew the food and the second I swallow it, my stomach churns.
Oh no. I try to take slow deep breaths to hold it down, but the more I do that, the more I smell the food before me.
Shit. It’s coming.
I scramble out of my seat and bolt for the stairs as my hand slaps over my mouth, trying to hold it down before I get to my bathroom.
I race up the stairs, taking two at a time before pushing through the door of my room and slamming into the bathroom door. I only just make it to the toilet before my dinner comes flying up.
I hurl my guts up over the toilet and fall to my knees.
This is not a good start.
After a few minutes, I rest my head against the cool porcelain of the toilet seat, feeling utterly dejected. I know I have a problem, but I’m not ready to admit it.
I’ve been through this once before and got myself healthy, though it was through my mom’s constant nagging and a shit load of therapy. It was months that she would barely leave my side, constantly watching me and forcing me to hold food down. That was at fourteen and now at seventeen, the cycle is beginning again.
A throat clears from the doorway and my head snaps up to see Nate standing before me. He leans against the door frame with a less than impressed frown on his face and his arms crossed over his wide chest.
I wonder how long he’s been standing there but from the disgusted look in his eye, I’d say he’s been here a while.
He shakes his head at me as though I’m the most disappointing creature on earth before turning his back and walking away.
Tears fill my eyes. No one has ever seen me this low. Even last time this happened, I never allowed mom to see it. Not even Brooke knows about it, but having Nate, the one person who has made sure to make my life a living hell, witness the lowest moment in my life, makes me want to crawl into a hole and never come out.
I clean myself up and take myself back into the bedroom where I sit on the end of the bed, staring into oblivion. It’s then I notice my leftover dinner sitting on the bedside table and realize he must have brought it up for me. Though, whether he was planning on shoving it down my throat or thought I might get hungry later, I don’t know. Either way, I know deep down, there was a caring thought in there somewhere. Maybe the old Nate isn’t completely lost.
I let out a sigh when I hear a knock in my open doorway. I turn around to see Trish sticking her head in with a bottle of water and painkillers. “Can I come in?” she questions.
“Of course, you can,” I tell her. “This is your home.”
“Yes, but this is your space,” she tells me before placing the water and painkillers down on the bedside table next to the forgotten dinner. “How are you feeling?” she asks as she takes a seat beside me and presses her hand to my forehead the same way my mother does.
“Better, thank you,” I tell her with a grateful smile.
“I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” she says, wrapping her arm around me and pulling me in. “Had I known you weren’t feeling well, I wouldn’t have called you down for dinner.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her. “It’s probably just food poisoning,” I say, hating the lie as it leaves my lips. “I’ll be ok.”
“Are you sure? I brought you some painkillers and some water to wash them down. Do you need anything else?”
“No, thank you,” I tell her. “I might just lay down for a while with my Kindle.”
“Oh, that’s right. I had forgotten how much you love to read,” she says with a fond smile. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”