TW - EDs
She's lost so much weight. And the truth is, you've noticed it for a while.
You first started getting concerned when she stopped changing in front of you. She'd lock the bathroom door, bringing her change of clothes in with her, shutting you out completely. Then she started eating out. Or she says she's eating out, anyway, leaving you to sit at the table by yourself in the evening wondering if she would finally kiss you on the lips again tonight. It's been a while. That's another thing that's changed.
Maybe you're just being oversensitive but it hasn't escaped your attention that the last time the two of you spent any quality time together was weeks ago. Which is a strange considering you're a couple who lives and sleeps together. But it's true. She can barely mumble two words to you in the morning, leaving early to go to the gym, and falls dead asleep at night the minute her head hits the pillow, leaving you alone to wonder when you will finally broach the subject. You've got to be careful. You know how tricky this whole situation can be and your inability to strap on a pair and just come out with it scratches at your core. The longer you wait, the worse she's going to get, the night voices whisper. You know this already, though. I guess you just hoped that everything would work itself out in the end; that you were just paranoid.
By this point, you realise you have to stop kidding yourself.
You watch her as she sits on the sofa, hunched over her laptop as she types away. She's wearing that huge jumper she's always got on nowadays. It drowns her in its excess, waves of material dripping off her shoulders and arms. Out of the sleeves poke her hands which have become smaller, you're sure of it. The promise ring you gave her slides up and down her finger, threatening to fall to the floor any second. An accurate description of your relationship, to be honest. You doubt she's holding up her end of the promise you made to tell each other everything. Her hair, as well, falls like curtains over her pale face. It's long now. You can't remember the last time she took time away from her work or from the gym to get it cut. All these things, all these details, just add up and remind you of your duty to do the right thing. Your duty as her partner to keep her safe. Your duty to help her even though you know she doesn't want it.
"Dems?"
Her eyes don't leave her computer screen but her fingers falter on the keys. After a second, she regains her flow.
"Demi," you repeat a little louder from through in the kitchen.
"I'm working, Y/n," she replies simply, a thread of frustration in her voice. You've gotten used to that though.
"I know," you soldier on, "But I need to talk to you about something."
Still, she doesn't look up and the tapping of the keyboard is the only sound in the room, setting you on edge.
"Demi."
"Ugh, what is it?" she groans, throwing her head back and slamming the laptop closed. Your chest immediately feels three times smaller as you realise there's no turning back.
"I...I just wanted to ask if you were feeling okay? Like, you haven't been feeling unwell or anything recently?"
She scoffs slightly, but obvious enough for you to see.
"No. I'm fine, why are you asking? If that's all you want then I'll get back to my work," she says, lifting the screen up again, waiting for it to light back to life.
"Because...uh, because..."
You don't know how to say this. But you also don't think any way is going to be the right way.
"...Because I've noticed you've lost a lot of weight recently...and, um...and I was just wondering if you were feeling under the weather or something...?"
You hold your breath, waiting to see what was going to happen.
"Excuse me?" she says, narrowing her eyes into slits.
"Oh, I was just saying--...I was just saying that--"
"What are you suggesting, Y/n? That I'm a failure?" she challenges, glaring at you.
"No, of course not! Not at all, I'm just worrie--"
"Just drop it, Y/n, okay?"
"Demi, I'm just trying to help. You don't need to hide anything from m--"
"God, just leave me alone! You're always in my business when I don't want you there!"
She throws her hands up in the air, making a huge display of how irritated she is with you. You could do the same if you weren't too preoccupied holding your pride together.
"You know what, Demi? Forget it. Forget I asked. You know, all I'm doing is trying to look out for my girlfriend and making sure that she's healthy but I guess you wouldn't know anything about that! You wouldn't know what it's like to be caring for your girlfriend!"
It's a low blow. But you don't stick around to wait for the consequences of your words as you stomp towards the front door, slamming it behind you. You didn't even look in Demi's direction as you left. You didn't need to as, even halfway down the road, you hear her screaming profanities at you from through the front window, knowing you're hearing every word.
***
"I just don't know what to d-do...she's shutting everyon-ne out," you blubber, sitting in the middle of Mary's bed as she swings side to side on her desk chair.
"Yeah..." she says, popping her lolly out of her mouth, "...but she didn't have to be such a bitch about it. You're only trying to help."
"I know! And I told her that but she just flipped!" you exclaim, falling backwards so that you're now staring up at her ceiling.
"You need to stop giving her so many second chances, Y/n. You've said it yourself, she's been like this for months now. Just dump her."
Mary's a good friend. You would never say otherwise. But it's times like this when you wonder if she realises how much you really love Demi.
"I can't..." you whine, "...it's not that simple. She's like this because she's hurting, I know she is..."
"Mhm, okay..." Mary says sarcastically, "...I'm just saying that I don't want to see you getting hurt. You're my friend and I'm looking out for you."
"I know. And thank you. But Demi...she's my everything...And it'll kill me if something happens to her."
Mary's silent for a minute, sucking thoughtfully on her lolly before she speaks again.
"You've just gotta confront her again. Keep telling her you're worried about her and hopefully, she'll get the message eventually. If she loves you back, she should make the effort to make you happy as well."
She makes a lot of sense, unfortunately. But going back and braving Demi again isn't your favourite idea right now.
"Hm'kay," you hum, not quite ready to peel yourself off the duvet yet.
"And if she still doesn't cooperate..." Mary adds, "...you can dump her."
You hurl a pillow at her face.
***
The door is unlocked, just like you left it, meaning that Demi is still inside. This alone fills you with anxiety. You had secretly been hoping that she'd sloped off to the gym, like she does almost every afternoon, meaning you would have a bit more time to prepare yourself for another face-off.
Walking through the house, you see her at the table, doubled over and leaning on the wood with her hands. As soon as she hears your footsteps, she snaps upright, turning her back to you and twisting on the tap in the kitchen.
"Demi," you state firmly as she fills up a glass with shaky hands. She drinks deeply, not stopping until the glass is empty then fills it up again.
"Demi," you repeat, realising this is all too similar to what went down only a few hours ago.
"What?" she breathes, lifting one hand to her forehead and massaging her temples.
"What's going on with you? You know you can always tell me if something's bothering you."
"Nothing's going on," she says weakly through gulping breaths, still turned away from you.
Her lack of yelling at you dispells some of the stress buzzing around your body and you decide to just leave the confrontation about weight loss until later.
"Okay. That's fine. Em...what d'you want to do for dinner?"
Wrong move.
"Nothing."
"Dem--"
"I'm not hungry."
You wring your hands together, trying to keep the peace.
"Dems...you've got to eat something. I can make something light? There's soup in the fridge I can put on the stove if you wan--?"
"I said...I'm not hungry," she scowls at you over her shoulder.
"But, Demi, it's--"
"Jesus fucking Christ!" she yells, throwing the glass into the sink with a shattering crash. You jump back, trying not to slip on the hardwood floor.
"I said I'm not fucking hungry, Y/n, don't you get that?! Are you even listening to me?! Are you going to argue with every fucking thing I say?!"
She's walking towards you now, taking a step with every new, scathing dig at you.
"No, it's just that you're scaring me! You-...you just look so ill, Demi--"
"What are you trying to say, huh?! That I'm ugly now, am I?! Too ugly for you?! Leave, then, if that's how you feel! I don't need you here, breathing down my neck anymore!"
She's less than a metre away now, her ghostly-white face tight in anger as she yells. Her dark brown eyes you love so much have been varnished with hate.
"No, of course not! I didn't say you were ug--...I said you looked ill! Like-...like before...when you-...when you had to go to--"
She slaps you hard across the face, tearing you to the side as you bring your hands up to your burning cheek. Your ears ring as you try to keep your balance and stand upright again. It feels like ages before you manage to rip your eyes from the floor back to your girlfriend. But there's no remorse in her face. No regret. Her eyebrows are knotted in the centre of her forehead, overhanging her raging pupils that pierce through your skin. They prod at you, to bend down even more and drop the whole conversation. Which is tempting, considering you've already fallen. But your undying love for the woman who shoved you there refuses to let it slip through your fingers so easily.
"You need help, Demi," you say as calmly as you can, "You know you do, too. I know you recognise this in yourself and that's okay. It's okay to ask for help."
She takes another step forward, trying to intimidate you with equal stature. But her shrunken frame gives you the advantage and you bypass your stinging cheek, raising your shoulders and standing your ground.
"You know nothing," she spits, leaning in on the last word to carve it into your epidermis, "I thought you loved me. I thought you were supposed to be on my side. You're not. You just want to see me get fat. You're against me."
You don't bother arguing against what she's saying. You know it's not really her. You know these are the words of the voices in her head that tell her not to eat an apple because it'll make her gain ten pounds. These are the voices that tell her to do an hour of cardio just to burn off the black coffee she drinks in the morning. These are the voices that tell her everyone around her are trying to sabotage her. Everyone including you. Everyone especially you.
"Demi, please," you hush, "Let's go sit down."
In the last few seconds, her face has drained of even more colour which you didn't think was possible. And her chest keeps heaving up and down as if she's going to throw up.
"No! I don't want to be around you, anymore! You hate me! You're--"
She grabs your shirt in her fists, hauling you back and forth. You curl your hands under her elbows, trying to bring her back around. But you know it's pointless.
"-You're just laughing at me with all of your friends! They all think I'm fat!"
"Demi, stop. None of this is true, I promise you--"
"You don't want me anymore! You want to see me fail!"
"Demi," you repeat, desperate to de-escalate the situation.
"I know what you're saying about me behind my back! They tell me! I know everything you say! They--"
"Demi."
"They--...They tell me all o-of your secr--...secrets..."
She stumbles a little, her hands loosening from your shirt. Her eyes float away from yours.
"Demi?"
"...They don't l-lie to me...they're m-my friends..."
Her knees buckle, her head slumping back on her shoulders as she sinks to the floor with a thump.
"Demi!" you cry, crouching down on the floor beside her. You brush her long hair back off her forehead, cupping her face in your hands. Her skin is cold. And her eyes are rolled to the back of her skull making you want to pinch yourself and pray that this is all just some horrendous nightmare. You never imagined it would get this bad again. You promised you would step in before she could fall this far.
"Demi," you state firmly, patting her slack face, trying to get any sort of response. Nothing. You know you can't wait too long. You know this is too dangerous to just cross your fingers and hope she eventually comes around. But nine-one-one isn't the number you pull out your phone to call. For some reason, your thumb taps on Mary's face, then on loudspeaker.
"Hello?"
"Mary?! Mary, I need your help. Please!"
"What's going on? Did Demi shout at you again? Y/n, you need to dump her ass and get out of there, it's not worth i--"
"She's collapsed!" you cry, taking her limp hand in yours, squeezing each finger in turn to try and ease your uncontrollable heart rate.
"She what?! What happened?!"
"I-...we were fighting and...and I don't know, she just dropped! And she won't wake up! Please, I don't know what to do!"
The line is silent for a moment and you wonder if Mary's going to bail before things get too sticky. But, eventually, her voice crackles through again.
"'Cause she hasn't been eating, right?"
"What?"
"All of this is because she's not eating?"
"Eh-...uh, yeah...I think-..."
"She'll be hypoglycemic. You need to get some sugar in her system."
The patient, direct orders from Mary throw you off. This is a side of her you've never seen before. But it's enough to snap you back into the realm of common sense.
"R-right...okay, I--...uhh, I--..."
You look around, eyes darting over every surface, trying to find the solution. Mary must hear your panic, though.
"Get her some fruit juice. Go to the fridge and get orange juice or something."
Gently placing Demi's hand down on top of her stomach, you run through to the kitchen and open the fridge door, pulling out the carton of breakfast juice. Grabbing a glass from the drying rack, you fill it half way up then run back through to your unconscious girlfriend.
"Got it!" you shout to Mary's name that's flashing on your screen.
"Good, Y/n. I'm on my way, just getting in my car now. But you need to get her to drink it."
"How?! She won't wake up!" you shout, unable to think anything through rationally.
"Just lift her head and pour it in her mouth. Natural reflex will take over--"
"But she's gonna choke! Mary, I can't-...I can't do this..."
"Trust me, Y/n. This will work. Just trust me. Lift her head up enough and take it slow. But you need to get her to drink it."
You can see a sheen of sweat coating Demi's face and the hand on her stomach trembles out of the corner of your eye.
"O-okay," you say, "I'll try."
"Thank you, Y/n. I'm going to hang up now but I'll be there in a few. Keep calm, okay?"
"Yeah," you choke, watching as the call disconnects, leaving you alone on the floor with your girlfriend.
"Demi? Demi, I'm going to get you to drink this, okay? It's going to help you," you dictate slowly, more to aid yourself than anything else. Placing one hand under her head, you tilt it up so that it's at a forty-five-degree angle. With your other, you bring the glass to her lips, slowly pouring the golden liquid in through her teeth.
At first, nothing seems to happen and some of the juice ends up tricking down her chin and soaking into the neck of her jumper.
"Come on, Demi. Please. Please don't leave me like this," you plead under your breath, hoping that someone up there is listening.
Eventually, her eyes flutter open slowly and you take the glass away, placing it beside you. You keep one hand under her head though, wanting to pull her up close to your chest and never let go.
"Demi? Can you hear me?"
A groan escaped from between gritted teeth as she strains to sit up.
"No, Dems, just lay down here, okay? You're alright, you're alright..."
You place your free hand on her chest, pressing her back onto the floor. Then you position her so her neck is in the crook of your elbow, holding her supportively.
"Wha-...what's...?"
She keeps screwing her eyes shut, trying to dispel the headache she must have from cracking her head against the floor.
"Y-you fainted," you stutter, stroking your fingers through her hair soothingly. You see the darkness in her eyes return as she shifts uncomfortably in your arms.
"...oh..."
"Demi, you've got to get help," you plead, thinking that this was obvious now.
"Get off me," she mutters, wriggling weakly in your arms, trying to push herself away.
"I'm not playing games here, Demetria, this is serious! You just passed out 'cause you've been starving yourself for weeks and still you're being stubborn and not willing to admit you have a problem! What's it gonna take, huh? For you to pass out again at work? For you to get hospitalised? Do you - do you want me to get on my knees and beg here? 'Cause I'll do it, Demi. I'll do it if it means you will get help. I--"
You stifle a sob as you look down at the love of your life, who can't even bring herself to make eye-contact.
"...I c-can't watch you do this to yourself again...I can't...If you're not willing to do it for yourself...do it for me...get better for me..."
A tear falls out of the corner of her eye, trailing down the side of her face and onto your arm.
"You d-don't understand-d..." she cries, not even trying to drag herself away from you anymore and sinking into your arms, "...I can't just...stop...they won't let m-me..."
"I know, Demi, I know," you breathe, pulling her further up into your chest and rocking back and forth, "That's why we need to get professional help. Someone who will be able to help you properly..."
You try to smile in encouragement but her small frame tenses up.
"N-no-oo," she whines, "I d-don't want anybody to-...I just want you. Please."
Her sudden affection for you after all this time throws you. And the emotional, heart-driven side of you begs to grab on with both hands and be the saviour she needs you to be. But your head is strong. It reminds you of what you need to do.
"Demi, that won't work, sweetheart. This has gotten too far! You-..."
You swallow.
"...I think you need in-patient treatment..."
She lets out an agonising wail as you say exactly what she doesn't want to hear.
"Shhh, Dems, it's going to be okay...I promise..." you whisper, still rocking back and forth.
"Why won't you h-help me?! Why?!" she yells, breaking your heart.
"Because you've been keeping this a secret from me for so long! You've been struggling for so long and you haven't told me! I would be able to help you if you were always honest with me but you're not..."
"I am--!"
"I'm not blaming you, Dems! I'm not! I know what this dis--...what these voices tell you...And I know why you didn't feel able to tell me..."
She covers her face with her hands.
"But that means I also know you need more than me. You need comprehensive treatment."
She shakes her head fervently.
"But..." you continue, intertwining your fingers with hers and pulling her hands away from her face, "...I will be there with you...every step of the way."
Even through her streaming eyes, you see the familiar brown reappear.
"Okay?" you ask.
"O-okay," she weeps.
And, from through the door, you hear the sound of Mary's car as she pulls up in front of the house.
Again, I have no personal experience of this topic so please let me know if I got anything wrong ❤️
Vote and comment below if you enjoyed and any requests are more than welcome 😌
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