Syndrome // H.S.

10. I've Got a Dozen Insecurities

TW: mild anxiety attack, brief inner dialogue about eating disorder/calories, and purging

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When I started to wake up the next morning, I could tell I wasn't alone in the bed. I panicked for a second before remembering that I was meant to be sharing the room with Zayn, and tried to let myself relax.

I hated sleeping next to other people. It was beyond outside of my comfort zone. I didn't even like people being physically close when I was awake, let alone when I was asleep. I didn't want to wake up yet, but my discomfort was pulling me out of my haziness. He wasn't doing anything to bother me, I couldn't even hear the sounds of him breathing. He was completely silent, the only evidence that he was next to me being the dip in the mattress and the scent of cinnamon. I tried to let that lull me back to sleep, but the knowledge of there being another person the room was preventing that from happening.

I could also feel the familiar itch in my body of cravings. I had used last night, but my system was used to inhaling a few lines off of my nightstand upon awaking in the mornings for work.

I sighed and blinked my eyes open, surprised to see that the light shining around the edges of the black out curtain was pretty bright. How late had I slept? I rolled over onto my back, no longer facing the wall. As I did, it felt like my head spun and my stomach turned. 

Fuck I was hungover. I'm not exactly a heavy drinker, often opting to use drugs instead. I hated the feeling you get the morning after drinking; but even more, I hate how much less control over myself I feel when I'm drunk.

Memories of last night started flooding back. Harry and I had been pretty handsy, and I closed my eyes to try and steady my breathing. I suddenly felt disgusting in all the place his hands had been. My skin crawled in each area of my skin as I thought over everything. My hips were practically burning, and my mouth. Fuck, my mouth. I had let him rub that leftover coke on my gums.

You're disgusting.

I can't believe you let somebody touch you.

Now I couldn't stop feeling the hands and finger prints all over me, all in the places where his skin had met mine.

He knows what your body feels like. He knows you're sick.

I made the decision right then and there that I couldn't see him today. I didn't want to see any of them really. I could tell that this was not going to be a good day for my mental health, and seeing their faces was the last thing I needed. 

In a twist of sheer irony, my head fell to the side in dismay to find I was now only a foot away from Zayn's face. Really?

"You have to put it in the trunk."

I froze as Zayn mumbled, pulling me out of my thoughts. Put what in the trunk? Was he sleep talking? His eyes were closed as he continued on in gibberish. "It'll roll around." Okay, definitely sleep talking.