More or less than friends

Chapter 15- the fayre pt. 2

TW: Throwing up, Crying, Eating alot, Mental breakdown, self hate.

hellooo, um so yeeaaa in this chapter I talk about bulimia, which is an eating disorder where you eat large amounts uncontrollably and throw up deliberately. It's actually something I struggle with, so please don't make any harsh comments or anything! I've just never been through anorexia or anything, I wanted to add more of me into the book if that makes sense? I find it easier to write when I know exactly what i'm talking about.

George's POV

We pulled up by the fayre at about midday, the sun high in a clear blue sky. There were happy screams and music surrounding us as people dropped on rides and admired the view of the sea from the top of a ferris wheel. Colours and lights surrounded the area, with massive signs and posters anywhere I looked. Nick and Karl seemed quite excited, Clay looked perfectly happy- and my heart was in my throat. 

No matter where I was looking there was something I found awful. Crowds of people laughing and bustling, people that if I got close to could push me or shout at me or scare me. Staircases or ladders were everywhere, leading to places WAY too high up for my liking. And the only other thing in sight were stands, covered in food. Candyfloss, hot dogs, burgers, donuts, the list goes on. Not the kinda thing I like to see.

"Hey, George, you ok?" I zoned back into reality; Nick had grabbed Karl's hand and pulled him towards the crowds, but Clay held the door open, looking in at me- who still had my seatbelt on. I hurried myself to get out, embarrassed that I had randomly frozen in such an ordinary situation.

"Oh, sorry" I muttered, but a hand rested on my upper arm and my eyes were met with golden ones. 

"You should stop apologising when you've done nothing wrong." Clay said while grinning at me. I blushed slightly and climbed out of the car, looking up at him.

"Yeah, sorr- uh...I'll t-try..." I managed, now turning a deep shade of red at how stupid I was being. We locked the car and headed for the main gate, hands held. This place was making me so nervous: it felt like there was a fist clenching in my stomach. It got tighter every step we took, squeezing the air out of my lungs and speeding up my heart. But I swallowed, took a deep breath, and moved on. 

The other two were already climbing into a rollercoaster, and Karl started beckoning to us frantically, trying to get us in the cart behind theirs. Before I could worry or stress of what to say, Clay held up his left hand and shook his head, showing we weren't gonna join them. 

He just knows.

"So gogy, you wanna get some ice cream?" the fist around my organs squeezed tighter. I swallowed again.

"Um..s-sure..." Clay hadn't really asked about my eating for the past couple of days. He had given me food, and believed I was eating it, but to be honest I had been doing something completely different. Throwing it up..by force. 

It's easier than not eating, it's less noticeable. I had started eating more, actually, Alot. But couldn't stop myself from 'taking a shower' and emptying everything out. The feeling I get, the urge to do it, it's too overwhelming to ignore.

And that's just in the past few days.

The ice cream van came into view, and instantly my stomach rumbled. Clay giggled at the expression on my face, I obviously looked quite hungry.

"Uh..Clay, could we get something else first? Like actual food?" I asked the question without thinking, not considering what was gonna happen. 

"Sure." 

In the end we got hot dogs and chips. I'm quite ashamed to say I finished in a matter of minutes, then nicked some of Clay's stuff too. He raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything, apparently happy that I was so eager to eat. 

Once he finished we got ice cream, and I did the same thing.

"What's gotten into you George, you're acting like you haven't eaten in years" Clay commented, chuckling as I bought a few donuts and instantly scarfed 3 of them down. I shrugged, holding up the box to offer him one. He shook his head- "No no, you have them." And I did.

All 6 of them, and then 2 bags of crisps, a burger and a bar of chocolate. All of it, gone, completely independently. But the good part never lasts forever, and whilst finishing, it all hit me. The guilt. The horror. The insecurity. Instantly tears pricked the back of my eyes, and I held my stomach. Clay chuckled at this, not realising.

"Did it all catch up to you then? That was a LOT of food, to be fair." He said it without thinking, he didn't realise, he didn't understand. I smiled weakly, using all of my energy not to throw up right then and there. 

"Um..I think I'm gonna go back to the house, I'm tired. I'll see you guys later."  The fayre wasonly a 5 minute drive away, so it would take me about double that to get back. 

"Oh, ok. Are you ok George? Do you need me to come with me?" He sounded a but more concerned now, looking down at me and half-smiling. 

"N-no, it's fine. I'll see you later, ok?" I tiptoed and gave him a quick kiss. For a split second I was happy, I was in heaven, I was perfect, It was all right. But then I was back in the real world, steadying myself and giving Clay's hand one last squeeze before turning and starting to walk.

The entire way home I felt disgusting, as if I deserved nothing. I scolded myself for eating, I don't deserve food, I don't deserve love, I don't deserve Clay.  I'm fat, and ugly, and awful. I hate myself and everyone else hates me too. 

By the time the house came into view there were tears clouding my view. It took about 2 minutes to unlock the house, my hands were shaking so much. The moment it was open I sprinted to the bathroom, forgetting to lock the door behind me. All that was important was ridding myself of the food inside of me.

The toilet was open, I threw myself in front of it, taking my hand and forcing the stuff out of my throat. Tears streamed down my face as I lurched, again and again, until I was empty. My chest burned, I couldn't breath, everything hurt. Sobs echoed around the room.

 I'm so tired of this. I'm so gross. I'm so fat. I'm so ugly.

Eventually I managed to force my aching body off the ground, flushing all of the vomit down the toilet and cleaning up what was left behind. Even standing, I was still crying and shaking violently. All I wanted to do was lie down and sleep. Lie down and stop. Lie down and turn off. 

All I could wish for at that moment for was the pain to stop, for my brain to finally be calm, for the light to turn dark. 

And curling up in bed and sobbing was the closest I could get.

(1195 words)

I'm crying. I might do a double update, I'm not sure. Sorry for having no schedule, my life is just very inconsistent. I don't know what's happening from one day to the next. 

This is what it's like, by the way. I eat without being able to stop, then I get SO SO guilty. It's a very tricky thing to deal with, if you go through anything like this try to get help.

All my friends either say "It's ok, eat with me today" or they tell me not to eat in the first place. I get that there's not much else they can do, and if you are my friend and you're reading this I don't expect anything else. I don't even know what I would want the answer to be. 

Love you :)