Fat // Harry Styles

chapter twelve

chapter twelve

- HARRY STYLES -

FOUR LONG DAYS. In and out of the hospital I went, back and forth with little to no sleep at all. The seconds ticked by, which became minutes, which became a painstakingly endless amount of hours. She was awake; she wasn't awake. I could see her; I couldn't see her. She needed rest; she needed company. Four days began to feel like four years.

This wasn't the way I thought I'd meet Delilah parents. This wasn't the way I thought I'd bond with her brother. Stuck in a noisy hospital waiting room for hours on end, barely pausing a moment to eat. We were all worried about her. The doctor said she still wasn't eating. It wouldn't be long before they'd have to force it, and that was no way for Delilah to get better.

Her father was an intimidating man, however, I was sure it was merely a tough front. I saw the way he gently whispered to his wife and showed affection towards his son. He was no cruel man. I had a feeling the show was all for me, which was understandable. I wondered if they knew about the abuse Delilah went through. I doubted it, because I was sure Justin would be six feet under by now if either of her military relatives got a hold of him.

On that fourth day, she was asleep when I visited her. I sat in that chair at her bedside, instinctively looking over at her vitals. Her blood pressure was devastatingly low due to her malnutrition, and I had to force myself to look away from it. A part of me felt like it was my fault she ended up like this. I was her trainer. I should've kept a better eye on her. Should've made sure she was eating.

Yet the other part of me knew that I wouldn't have been able to stop this. You can't shove food down someone's throat. It's equally mentally unhealthy as not eating is physically. I tried to make sense of it in my head, and knew there was little way to prevent this. But I still couldn't help but wonder... could I have kept this from happening?

The doctor was outside her room when I left, closing the door quietly behind me. I gave him a nod and went to walk away, but he caught my arm. Something in his eyes told me the entire situation wasn't looking good.

"Sorry to hold you up, but I have a few questions. You're her personal trainer, yes?"

I frowned, eyebrows knitting together. "I am."

"Well, Delilah has been... mumbling things lately. Something about people laughing at her and to make 'them' go away. Now, I've already questioned her family and they've said they hadn't heard anything about it but--"

"Twice," I told him, running a hand through my hair. "Monday we were at the park and she said something about a group laughing at her, but I didn't see anyone. Then on Tuesday before she fainted, she said to make them stop." I shook my head in confusion. "What's wrong? Is Delilah... schizophrenic or something?"

The doctor attempted a genuine smile. "Oh, no. I don't think it's that extreme. You see, Delilah is severely malnourished. Very rarely does malnutrition cause hallucinations, but it's possible. The headaches play a role in it as well. However..." He bit his bottom lip and nodded to himself. "I do think she's paranoid, which could also play a factor into the hallucinations. But I'm no professional, so I recommend Delilah gets a therapist."

I rubbed my temples. "I tried to tell her that but she just completely ignored me. I didn't want to push it and upset her."

"You can't help someone if they're not trying to help themselves," he remarked. "I have a gut feeling that if Delilah doesn't get help soon, she'll only become more ill. Mentally and physically."

He gave my shoulder a squeeze before entering Delilah's room, leaving me to race through my thoughts. I hesitated going back to the waiting room, knowing her family would eventually have to know what the doctor just shared with me. I didn't feel like it was my place to say anything, though.