Star-gazing: Eric Coulter

Chapter 7

"How's she doing Shauna?" Eric asked my best friend, as I was lying across the hospital bed with Eric and Shauna stood in front of me on either side. The infirmary was dimly lit as usual, but a bright-white lamp was burning hole through my retinas as it sat across from me. I could feel the heat radiating off of it and into my bony arms.
She looked worried about something.
"Can we maybe talk about this outside, Eric?" She told him, exiting the curtained off section- my husband following shortly afterwards. Shit, did she know?

Eric Coulter's pov:

The nurse took me outside of the curtain and to  the nurses' station. She looked unsure about informing me on whatever information she was gatekeeping. I gave her a stern look, she gathered her thoughts together. She picked up her notepad and started to tell me.
"Her leg is almost fully healed." Shauna should have been beaming at the fact Layl was almost healthy again. But she wasn't.
"What's the problem then?" I asked her, crossing my arms across my chest, "why couldn't you have just told me in there?
"Well- it's more complicated than that Eric." She lowly answered, "Have you been making sure she's still eating?"
What the fuck?
"Of course I have, what the fuck, Shauna?! I've made sure she eats in front of me. Every fucking meal!" How dare she accuse me of this, I look after my wife as she needs it. She eats in front of me, I've seen it with my own eyes.
"Ok, I believe you." She said, flipping through one of the pages, "She's still loosing weight, Eric. Layla is almost severely underweight."
I couldn't breathe for a quick second. No. Not again, baby...
"Fuck." I swore under my breath. "Give her the tube again."
"But Eric-"
"Do you ever listen to orders? I said give her the fucking tube! You clearly said it yourself, for fucks sake!" I yelled at the woman. Other nurses turned towards our direction, nervous. But Shauna stayed strong. She wasn't scared of me anymore. I presumed it was all the stories of me that Layla had told her.

Looking away as the Erudite doctor inserted her feeding tube down the back of her nose and into her stomach, I felt almost ashamed of myself for letting her get this bad again- almost. How couldn't I have noticed? How was she even loosing weight though, she was eating every meal in front of me?
The medical professional peered over to me, "It's not your fault, Mr Coulter." I nod, acknowledging him- he backs off knowing I'm not in the mood to talk at the moment. "I'll be back in once she's awake."

"You tell me what you're doing to yourself, Layla! Fucking tell me!" I raise my voice at my wife, about ten minutes after she wakes up. I bang my hands against the side table; the noice ricochetting off almost every surface in the open room.
She stutters, looking almost stunned that I even asked her, "I'm not doing anything!"
"Don't lie to me, little girl." I warn her, my face positioned millimetres away from hers, "Tell me, how are you still loosing all this weight?"
"I'm not." She sulks, turning her head away- she was feeling ashamed and guilty. I could tell by her face.
"Fucks sake!" I shout again, punching my fist against the wall, "I'm fucking worried about you! Tell me so I can help you. Please, baby." I attempt to reason with her but when she looks back over to me I see tears threatening to spill from her eyes. I reach out to cup her face but she pulls away again. I knew it was my fault, maybe I did overreact a bit.
"You really want to know?!" She laughs (shouting at me) her face flooding with tears, "The women here always stare at you, they love you, Eric." She pauses and lowers her gaze to her hands that were sat in her thighs under the thin black sheet, "They're beautiful, Eric. They're skinny and petite and have perfect bodies." She's still laughing (trying to hold back her pain) when I wrap my arms around her and old her tightly against my chest, not letting her go. I was never letting her go again.
"You're beautiful though, Layla." I tell her, placing a kiss onto her head, "You're perfect to me, you're the only woman I ever think about. I love you and I wish that you could see yourself like I see you."
I feel my wife shift around in my arms and I decide to slide into the hospital cot beside her. "I'm sorry." She whimpers, I pull her body on top of mine. Layla presses her body even closer to mine, our body heat mixing with others'. "We'll talk about this later, yeah?" I ask, feeling her nod underneath me. I will do whatever it takes to protect my girl.

A few days after the events that led to my girl to end up with another possible illness, I decided to arrive home early- to surprise her. Unlocking the door, I took my boots off and quietly crept around the apartment, trying to locate my wife. I grunt, (where the fuck could she be? Sleeping?) when I hear a sound of gagging I turn in my heels and swiftly move towards the direction of our bathroom. I look through the slither of a gap where the hinges of the door connect to the wall. That's when I see and realise- she didn't stop, she lied, again.
Layla was on the floor, crouching over the toilet throwing up. One of her hands is holding her head up whilst the other moves to... no.
She's fucking making herself vomit. I hear a choking noice followed by a small whimper and cry. Shit, baby...

Layla's pov:

The metallic taste of a red sea rushes down the back of my throat. Maybe I pushed myself to hard? I pulled my fingers out of my mouth and saw the thin red liquid on my fingers. Shit. I was in pain. My head was pounding, my throat screaming for me to stop and I could feel my stomach cursing me and telling me that I'd done the job. But I couldn't help but still feel fat, overweight and just pure disgusting. I heard myself let out a small whimper as I throw up again- this time too weak to move and I end up vomiting all over myself. It's mainly just water now, still hurts like a bitch though. I hear myself start to cry again -but even that causes my throat pain- it all sounds really far away, like I'm drifting away from this reality...

Snapping me out of my mental state, the bathroom door is kicked-in and my husband rushes into the room. "Layl..." he starts, then sees the state that I am in and shift his attention, "Let's just get you cleaned up."
I nod and roll my head backwards against his shoulder, whilst he undressed me.
Then another image from back at Erudite hits me, I'm suddenly back in our old apartment: my father undressing himself in front of me-
"Stop." I choke out when he starts on my jeans. "Please stop it." I let out a sob.
"It's me, not him. You're safe."
"Yeah?" I ask, feeling myself drift off into the unconscious world (for the second time today).
"Yeah. You just stay awake for me, Layla?" I hear him raise his voice -maybe even shout- but it's all background noise.

Eric's pov:

...And she's out cold again.