Chapter 9

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Charlie POV

"Of course Charlie's having seconds" one of the workers on Taylor's tour commented. Maybe I shouldn't eat this. It'll make me fat. I felt Taylor reach under the table and place her hand on my knee but I shrugged it off. I'm not eating this shit. I spent the rest of the night moving my salad around to make it look like I ate some. Once the dinner ended I went up to my room before Taylor could catch me. Laying down on my bed I began to sob, wrapping my thumb and pointer finger around my wrist, crying harder when they didn't touch. That's when I heard my door unlock and Taylor walked in. "Babe...." She sat with me and engulfed my fat frame in a hug. "Love, ignore what they say, they're stupid. I kicked him off the tour. No one is gonna say anything like that to you anymore baby. No one." She gently spoke, restraining my arms when I began to scratch at my scars. "Let me go!" I cried out and she shook her head sadly, tears flowing down her face as well. "Charlie, I can't do that. Your hurting yourself. Calm down and I'll let you go." Why won't she just fuck off? I faked calming down, she'll leave me alone if she thinks I'm calm. As soon as her grip loosened on me I locked myself in the hotel bathroom, relapsing. I could hear Taylor pacing outside the door. Once I'd cleaned up the gravity of what I'd just done hit me. Oh my god she's probably worried sick! Instantly I unlocked the door and sobbed into Tay. "Shh love your alright breathe." She cooed and I just cried harder, starting to hyperventilate. Taylor managed to pick me up, taking me over to a chair and kneeling in front of me, grabbing my hands. "Breathe babe, copy my breathing." She tried, putting my hand on her heart. Eventually my breathing evened out "I'm so sorry, I bet I had you worried sick. I'm stupid." She shook her head, bringing me down to lay against her. "No Charlie. You have mental health issues, everyone does. Robert was an idiot, who didn't deserve to be on this tour. Yes I was worried, but I'm glad to see your okay angel." She tried to comfort me but I just shook my head sadly. "There's something more on your mind baby girl. What's wrong?" She asked and I felt tears brewing again as I rolled up my sleeves. What am I gonna do about the shows? Taylor ran her finger across the bandages. "I didn't mean to do it there. I'm so sorry babe. I don't know how I'm gonna explain these. You can kick me off the tour, I'll understand." I told her and immediately my girlfriend objected. "No Char I'm not gonna do that. We can figure something out okay?" We both stood up and this time I started pacing. "God I'm so stupid. All these years and never once have I messed up like this." My girlfriend tried to calm me down "Love, it's okay. We'll figure something out. Maybe we can change the wardrobe to long sleeves for the dancers. We are going to colder spots anyways. Or you could wear an under shirt? Shouldn't be able to see it on stage if it's made of the same material as tights." Tay brainstormed. Slowly I stopped pacing and sat down leaning against my girl. "I'm so sorry about all this. You having to kick someone off the tour, dealing with my wardrobe stuff." "Nonsense my love. I'd lasso the moon for you darling"

Hey! Here's a cute little like sad mental health chapter. Is this angst? I don't fucking know. Anyways. Still fucking sick. Suggestions? Opinions?

-Brooklyn

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