TRIGGER WARNING: EATING DISORDERS
Aurora
I spent the next day as I had the previous seven. Laying in bed, wrapped tightly in my duvet. My dad had come up to check on me before he left for work but I just feigned being asleep. I knew he was worried for me. I had barely left my room in over a week now and he was still in the dark as to why. I hadn't told him I had ended things with Sam, worried that he would make the connection to his conversation earlier that week.
My phone was once again buzzing non-stop, only this time it was followed by knocking at my front door. Not that I had the energy or want to answer it, so I didn't, but that apparently didn't stop whoever was at the door.
"Rory Nightingale!" Harlow's voice echoed throughout the empty house as I heard her footsteps on the stairs, muffled slightly by the carpet. I let out a groan and rolled onto my back as she barged through my bedroom door with a million different feelings playing out on her face. "What the fuck, Rory?"
"I'm not in the mood, Harls," I mumbled as my eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"Ya went missing for a week, I don't care if you're not in the mood!" she scolded me. I watched in my periphery as she folded her arms across her chest with a stern look on her face. "We're all worried about ya, ya've not been in school or answered you're phone or anything!"
"Me and Sam broke up," I told her quietly. There was a deep pit in the bottom of my stomach, a feeling that I couldn't quite distinguish. Was it pain? Or was it anger at being stood up after he begged me to call him back and meet him?
Harlow's arms dropped to her side and her shoulders in defeat as she stared at me with sympathetic eyes. "Oh, Rory," she muttered, slipping under the covers beside me and pulling me into her arms. It was like deja vu, my mind recalling the time Sam had broken up with me months earlier. "What happened?"
"We argued," I whispered, resting my head against her shoulder. "He's been ringing us all week, begging us to meet him."
"I hope ya told him to fuck reet off," she scoffed.
"He was s'pposed to meet us last night," I laughed quietly.
"What do you mean, supposed to?" she frowned.
"He never showed up," I sighed.
"I'm gan fuckin' chin him when I see him," she grumbled. "It's gan be alreet, pet."
Sam
I was such a fucking idiot. How the fuck did I forget about Rory? It was only when I woke up at just gone eleven with a raging hangover and twenty missed calls had I realised I had fucked up. My shift the night before had gone terribly. I was late, to begin with, then smashed a bunch of glasses trying to clear a table and split a pint of Guinness over Shannon, one of the barmaids and to top it off, I got a bollocking from the bar manager, John, warning me that if I didn't wise up, I was heading towards being sacked. So, I did what any other logical person would do and got drunk, completely forgetting about the girl probably freezing her arse off twenty minutes down the road.
Hearing Rory's wobbly voice through my phone the next morning sent a wave of guilt crashing into me. My heart sank as I heard her admitting that it was cold and dark, realising that the voicemail was sent just after ten o'clock that night, which meant she had been waiting for me for an hour and a half.
I had practically leapt out of bed, barely dressing myself before I hastily made my way to Rory's, ready to beg for her forgiveness. It felt like hours before the door swung open, although I was not met by Rory nor Jamie, but rather Harlow.
"Harl?" I frowned. "What're ya doing here?"
"What am I doing here? I think I should be asking you that, ya fuckin' dickhead," she growled, landing a heavy punch to my upper right arm.
"Ow!" I whined, holding the spot where she had hit me and sending her a look of disbelief. "What the fuck, Harlow?!"
"Ya deserved that," she hissed, folding her arms across her chest as she stood in the doorway, almost blocking me from Rory. "You're fuckin' messing with her head, all the fuckin' time."
"I didn't mean to stand her up," I muttered, my lips drawing in a tight line.
"Oh, so ya meant to break up with her this time?" she scoffed.
"What're ya on about?" I frowned.
"Don't act like an idiot, Sam," she spat.
"Nah, seriously," I told her. "Rory broke up with me."
"What?"
"She ended it," I admitted. "Did... did she tell you that I broke up with her?"
"Well, no... I just assumed." She shrugged.
"Geez, cheers, Harl," I spoke sarcastically.
"Can ya blame me?" I scoffed at her insinuation. "It's usually you!"
"Can I come in?" I huffed, rolling my eyes.
"I don't really think that's the best idea," she snapped.
"It's alreet, Harls," Rory whispered from behind her, the two of us so engrossed in our conversation that we hadn't heard her descending the stairs. Harlow looked between the two of us hesitantly before nodding reluctantly.
"I'll just leave yous to it then," she mumbled, pressing a kiss against Rory's cheek. "Call me, alreet." Rory nodded in reply as Harlow squeezed past me, not missing the opportunity to barge my shoulder.
"Come in," Rory muttered, stepping aside to let me in.
"Listen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stand you up," I sighed as I followed her into the living room. "I know it's not an excuse, but I had a rubbish shift last night. John's threatening to sack me and it just slipped my mind."
"An hour and a half I waited for you, Sam," she sniffled. She looked so small, curling into herself and I wanted nothing more than to wrap her in a tight hug.
"I know, I'm so sorry," I told her. "Please let me make it up to ya." She stared at me in silence, her eyes mirroring her conflicted thoughts. I didn't miss how she was swaying slightly, her face paler than usual and her skin showing a slight gleam as though she was sweating, which was odd considering it was November and it wasn't exactly warm inside. "Are ya alreet?" I asked her, reaching out to steady her but she recoiled from my touch, almost falling in the process. "Rory."
"I'm fine," she assured me, turning away from me, one of her hands reaching up to clutch her chest.
"Have... have ya eaten today?" I inquired cautiously, torn between not wanting to aggravate her again and being concerned for her.
"Not this again," she huffed, twirling around suddenly, which only caused her to stumble. I darted forward, catching her in my arms but she straightened herself up. As much as she could anyway. "I'm fine."
"Rory-"
"I'm fine, Sam," she hissed, pulling away from me but her knees buckled beneath her and her eyes rolled to the back of her head.
"Rory!" I gasped, catching her in my arms and lowering her carefully to the floor. "Rory, can ya hear me? ...Scarl!" Her unconscious body was sprawled out in my arms as I used my elbow to prop up her head. "Fuck. Um..." I was panicking, unsure of what to do as the girl in my arms lay unresponsive. Careful not to move her around too much, I dug my phone from my pocket and immediately dialled 999, cursing under my breath as I waited for someone to pick up.
"Emergency services, which service do you require?" a female voice echoed through the speaker.
"Ambulance," I blurted out, my heart racing as I heard a click before another voice spoke up.
"Ambulance service, what's the address of the emergency and telephone number you're calling from?" I hastily stammered out Rory's address and my phone number, my eyes never straying from Rory's figure. She looked like a ragdoll in my arms, it was haunting. "And what's the emergency."
"My girlfriend," I trembled. "She passed out, she's not waking up."
"And is the patient breathing, sir?" the emergency responder queried. My breath got caught in my throat as I checked, cursing myself for not doing so earlier.
"Yes, she is," I sighed in relief, but my entire body remained tense.
"How old is the patient?" she asked.
"16," I told her, not sure how any of this was relevant. I just needed help. "Please, she needs help."
"Help is on the way, sir," she assured me before giving me a set of instructions that included putting Rory into the recovery position.
It felt like an eternity before the paramedics arrived but my nerves were eased slightly when they did. Immediately I was ushered away from Rory so they could tend to her. The room felt as though it was spinning, my ears picking up bits of information from the paramedics' mouths as they conversed with each other, not that I understood what any of it meant.
"Patient is bradycardic and bradypnic and oxygen sats are low," one spoke as the other placed an oxygen mask over Rory's face, adding to the effect of the other handheld machines around her in making her look a thousand times smaller than she was. "Is there anything that trigged her to pass out?"
It took me a minute to process that they were talking to me, far too lost in my thoughts. "Uh, I-I'm not sure. I hadn't been with her long. Sh-she looked really pale and sweaty... she was holding her chest as well... like she was in pain."
"Has she been unwell?" he asked. I immediately shook my head before the realisation dawned on me. "What is it?"
"She..." I trailed, staring down at Rory's form. Her reaction wasn't great when I told her dad, how would she react if I told medical professionals?
"Whatever it is, sir, we need you to tell us. It don't matter if you think it's not important. It could help us massively," the second paramedic, a female, told me sternly. Right, this was her health we were talking about.
"I think she's been making herself sick," I spoke quietly, chewing on my bottom lip as I gauged their reactions.
"Reet." She nodded as the two of them placed her on a stretcher and carted her out and into the ambulance. I followed behind like a lost puppy, my mind was spiralling with concern.
Aurora
I was awoken by the sound of a steady beeping, the brightness of the room I was in stinging my eyes. I let out a groan as they adjusted to the light, noticing that I was in the hospital.
"You're awake," Sam sighed in relief, making me aware of his presence and his hand that held mine tightly, careful to avoid the IV line.
"What happened?" I croaked out, my throat feeling like sandpaper. Sam quickly poured me a glass of water and helped me bring it to my lips, relieving the dryness instantly.
"You fainted," he told me, placing the plastic cup on the table beside him and brushing my hair from my face.
"I did?" I asked quietly. He nodded, his lips pulled together in a tight line.
"You're awake," my dad commented as he entered the room with a paper cup of what I assumed was coffee, looking as though he had aged about ten years by the distressed look on his face. "Sam, would ya mind if I had a word with Rory, please?"
My nerves spiked as Sam nodded in reply, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead and reluctantly releasing my hand. My dad sent him a small smile, patting his shoulder as he passed him before seating himself where Sam was seconds earlier. I avoided his eyes as he sat silently for a moment, clutching the paper cup in his hands as though it was a lifeline.
"How did we get here, Rory?" he questioned meekly.
"What d'ya mean?" I frowned.
"Let's not pretend ya don't know," he spoke firmly.
"I don't know what you're talking about, dad," I told him.
"Ya know, I should have listened to Sam," he muttered. "How did I miss my own daughter having an eating disorder?"
"What? I don't," I scoffed. "Sam don't know what he's on about."
"He knows more than I did," he laughed bitterly.
"I'm not anorexic," I assured him.
"No, you're Bulimic... Bulimia nervosa. That's what the doctors said," he said, his voice wavering.
"Bulimia what?" I inquired.
"Bulimia nervosa," he repeated. "An eating disorder... Characterised by binge eating and compensatory self-induced vomiting." My face burned shamefully at his words. "The signs were right there. How didn't I notice?"
"It's not your fault," I whimpered as I tried to hold back the floodgates.
"I'm your father. I'm meant to protect ya and I've failed," he spoke mournfully.
"Please, don't blame yourself," I cried. Slow steady tears fell down my cheeks.
"I'm sorry," he apologised, grasping my hand in his.