My Nightingale's Secret

Original | Chapter Twenty-Six

~Bailey's POV~

"You threw up your lunch," Sara states.

"No, I didn't."

"I heard you."

I shrug. "I felt sick."

She shakes her head, her hands at her sides curling into small fists. "You're lying. Why would you do that to yourself?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

She releases an exasperated breath and steps away from me, pacing around the bathroom. "I'm telling Dallas."

I narrow my eyes. "Telling her what?"

"That you forced yourself to throw up.''

I scoff. "You don't know me."

"And that matters why?"

"You're wrong."

"No, I don't think that I am."

I chew on my bottom lip, knowing that this situation is getting more worse by the second. "You can't tell her," I plead, and her eyes widen.

"You're not even going to try to deny it?"

"What's the point?" I furiously throw my hands up in the air. "You're going to believe whatever you want to, regardless of what I say."

"She can help you, Bailey."

"I don't need help. I'm fine."

There's a pause. "How often do you..."

"Purge? Every time that I eat."

"You can't." She shakes her head slightly, as if completely baffled by my words. "You're basically killing yourself."

"Why does that matter to you?" I don't intend for my words to sound so harsh but they do, and she flinches, leaving me to feel guilty.

"Look," she grips my shoulders, as if she wants to shake me, "I care, okay? I-"

"I don't need a charity case." I push past her, leaning against the wall.

"I'm not trying to treat you like a charity case," she groans. "I'm trying to help you-"

"I don't need your help."

"Does anybody know?"

"No." I stare at her as if she announced to the world that she's part goldfish. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"Oh, I don't know," her tone is sarcastic as she shrugs, "maybe because what you're doing is hereditary, unhealthy, and potentially fatal?"

I blink at her. "And your point is?"

"Okay, you're obviously not getting it," she mutters, approaching me so that I'm nearly pressed against the wall. "People care about you. Demi, Nick, Jordan, Dallas, Dianna, Eddie-"

"Okay, I have a large family. I get it."

She rolls her eyes. "They love you. They would hate to see anything happen to you-"

"Stop talking to me as if I'm three. They don't care, okay? Never have, never will."

"You're blind."

"No, you are."

She stares at me for a long moment, as if analyzing me. I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"Fine, maybe they don't care." She shrugs, just a hint of sarcasm lingering in her tone. "But what if I said that I do?"

"I'd call you a liar."