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Eighty Nine

Harry Styles

Aubrey's trying so hard to be okay, but as the days go on, the buildup of it all continues getting worse and worse.

She's had to call Maggie more times than I can count in the past few weeks since we found her, but these last three days, in particular, have had her scrambling for her cell phone more than once each day.

It's never about anything to do with why she's crying every time she showers, either. She has yet to discuss that with anyone, simply asking me to be ready for her whenever she gets out and needs physical comfort. The phone calls are all about guilt. Guilt for what happened to Ian. Guilt for Louis being paralyzed. Guilt for the malnourishment and weight loss of Charlie that he's still trying to recover from. Guilt for staying with her parents even though she knows how much they love and appreciate her company to begin with. Guilt for the traumatic past nine months of Elora's life while she was here falling in love and making both Ian and Thomas more upset, our happiness most likely making them angry and take their emotions out on her.

I only know these details because she asks me to listen to her talk on the phone, wanting me to know everything but not having it in her to explain her feelings in detail twice. Each call tears my heart out even more aggressively than the last, but I have to act as unfazed as possible so I don't make it worse for her. I try to hide from her view when it gets too hard to listen to, burying my face in my hands and trying to control my breathing. I just can't help it when I hear her say certain things.

It's so incredibly gut-wrenching watching the person you love most in the world grow to hate themselves more and more for things they have no control over. Things that they shouldn't be blamed for at all.

On our second day here, she kept trying to help a struggling Elora instead of helping herself, but I assured her that her moms had her covered. She is already being completely smothered right now as she has been since we got her out, and someone who isn't okay themselves wouldn't do her much good.

Now, instead of trying to help anyone, move, shower, eat, change her clothes, or anything, she just lays in her bed until someone forces her to do something else. I coax her into eating three meals a day and a snack along with that, showers and clothes changes every other night due to the emotional turmoil that ensues each time she gets one despite the fact that it's slightly unsanitary, and lots of water to rehydrate after crying.

I have yet to see what her stomach looks like just like everyone other than her doctor and one specific nurse at the hospital. I have an idea of what it looks like since I did see it when I found her, and I also spent years of my childhood being burnt by cigarettes just like her for no justifiable reason.

Her showers are quick, each one resulting in her noticeably rushing to cover herself back up before exhaustedly making her way to me with little to no tears left to cry.

She decided to get it over with earlier than usual today, it only being about 3:00 pm. She's gotten used to the schedule we have going and knew it was inevitable, so she wanted her shower out of the way.

That was about an hour ago, and she has now cried herself to sleep in my arms.

I'm incredibly drained from just watching her like this, so I can't imagine how terrible she must feel. I'm so glad she's comfortable expressing the fact that she isn't okay with me, but it's something I'm not used to her being this open about, so I'm trying my best to avoid reacting.

I know she won't be asleep for much longer, her body having fallen limp about twenty minutes into her crash from emotional exhaustion. I'm sitting on the edge of her bed, scared of moving my body closer to hers due to the potential of waking her.