Always Be Together (Zerrie Fic)

Case Closed

Hey all! Wow I can't believe I haven't updated in over three months...feel free to yell at me! This is kind of a filler chapter so it's :( But good news is I'll update the next chapter soon! Let me know what you all thinkkkk and enjoy!

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Perrie

If you ever wanted a glimpse inside the world of someone who felt like they were slowly dying, it’s your lucky day. Here’s a tip on how to be sick.

Never say the words “this is not my life.”

The pain that wakes you screaming in the middle of the night, the screams that wake the love of your life and chase them to another room, the fevered fainting, the trembling chest, the lungs twisted like balloon animals. Not the mention the panic that makes your stomach feel like a cave of coked up bats.

What’s worse than all this is watching your mother frantically collecting money for hospital bills because your insurance doesn’t cover what happened to you. Seeing doctor after doctor after doctor, the stethoscope that can never hear what your heart is crying for, the hospital bed, the florescent darkness of the ward, the prescriptions with side effects worse than the disease you have.

Stop.

I needed everything to stop.

I just wanted one week where I read more books than prescription labels. I hated not knowing what the tests would say and I constantly prayed, prayed, prayed. I couldn’t handle the shame of not being mentally able to get up for a week. The shame of not being able to let my boyfriend touch me without flashbacks of utter terror. The shame of being home and sobbing under the covers on another Friday night.

So don’t ever say “this is not my life.”

Say “this is my life.” Because it is. This is your precious life. These sufferings just prove how badly we want to live. We have to take punch after punch. We had to endure and curl our own fist. Every waiting room is the place where we will finally take shape and become stronger. Every scar on our wrists is there to be ripped open so we can scream and shout until there is justice. Every scar makes our voices louder. Every scar makes us braver.

When I understood these facts, I got up, had a shower, got dressed, and sat in Zayn’s car until he drove me to school for the first time in weeks. For the first time in my life, I stood up for myself against Rebecca.

“Back already, sweetheart? Darn, I thought we’d finally lost you,” she pouted mockingly. At first I ignored her until I heard what she said next. “Are you eating enough? You look absolutely disgusting.” Zayn hand clenched around mine angrily, but it was I who stepped up. I had lost so much weight that I felt like my body was atrophying and it scared me. I had begun eating again and I was feeling great. Now she was persecuting me for something I was proud of and that would not do.

“Fuck you!” I shouted at her. “How do you not know that is so fucking rude?” She looked surprised at me. “Don’t say things like that to people. One day, the person you insult is going to be dead because and you’ll feel like a piece of shit if you already don’t.”

“You know, you would feel so much better if you just took a deep breath and ate right and learned to take a joke,” the ever optimistic Mia Francois said from beside her. I rolled my eyes.

“Sunshine, please. Go back to your job in the aromatherapy aisle at Whole Foods and leave me alone,” I snapped. “I know how to eat and relax. What I don’t know is how to get rid of these people who are constantly trying to break me!” As much as I screamed, I didn't hate them. They weren’t my enemies anymore. I had learned to love my enemy. There is no greater opportunity to love your enemy than when your enemy was your own red blood.