Star-gazing: Eric Coulter

Chapter 7

TW- eating disorder, body dysmorphia, swearing.

DO NOT READ
IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH ANY OF THE ABOVE!

Song: Teen Idle
Artist: MARINA

Layla's pov:

I was currently sat on the bathroom floor with my fingers stuck down my throat- making myself throw up the remaining ounces of my last meal. Eric had forced me to sit with him whilst I ate; he was worried I would stop eating all together. But that wasn't the point. He didn't understand. He didn't understand how I felt, nor what was happening to my body. Since the incident, I wasn't allowed to exercise or move around excessively. This wasn't helping my current mental situation: I was having flashbacks of the accident every night, as well as memories of my father since his appearance back into my life. Things that I had wanted to forget about forever were resurfacing and weren't backing off anytime soon. It also didn't help much at the fact that my husband was exceedingly attractive- all the dauntless women knew that. They would moon over him, more often now, because of my injury. They believed Eric deserved more pretty, beautiful, sexy women in his life. They were right of course, but it still hurt. It pained me everyday, feeling the calories pulsate throughout my body and feeding my ever-growing body fat. All I longed to do was work it all off at the gym, but apparently me recovering was higher on everyone's agendas.

Gagging, bile rose in my throat and burned its way top to exit my body. The sour taste exploded in my mouth as I vomited onto the toilet bowl. I lay my head down on my arm, holding the other up as I tried not to allow droplets of saliva and sick to drop onto the floor. Tears brimmed in my eyes at the jabbing feeling that I had motioned at the back of my throat. I needed to do this. I need to be skinnier or they won't like or respect me anymore. I willingly told myself, scolding myself for eating so much in the first place.

The rattling sound off keys to a lock awoke me, I jumped and grabbed the side of the sink to pull myself up. Quickly, I washed my hands, brushed my teeth, flushed the toilet and sprayed a shit tone of deodorant around the bathroom as a poor attempt to cover the sickly sour scent.
"Layl, you home?" My husbands voice rumbled throughout the apartment. I prepared myself to go out there and face him, drying my eyes and neatening my hair up. When he called out again, I limped out from behind the locked bathroom door and hugged his waist from behind. He'd been working out. His abs pushed against the soft fibres on his gym vest as his shoulders bulged out from their sockets. Eric looked like a Greek God. With sweat coating his entire body in a thin layer and his ruffled up hair. I sighed and reluctantly pulled away from him. He gave me a sad look, before toughening up. He knew something had been up recently, but he didn't want to push it.
"I'm going to take a shower then we need to go back to the infirmary to make sure your leg's properly healed." He told me, placing his rucksack onto the hard-wood floor. He placed a kiss on my forehead before he wandered (with purpose) into the bathroom. I laughed under my breath, lightly. He always had a purpose, unlike I did.
"God, babe!" I heard him coughing and cocked my head into his direction. Behind the door I could hear him half chuckling, half trying to catch his breath. "How much deodorant do you use nowadays?"
I didn't answer him. Instead I walked into our bedroom and flopped onto the freshly cleaned sheets, inhaling the new scent, deeply. My shin protested slightly kicking me for always putting it in some type of pain, but I didn't care, my leg didn't have feelings. Am I going insane?

After the shower had finished, Eric's wet footsteps trudged into the bedroom. I smiled at him when he sat next to me, gently caressing my petite facial features. "I love you." He whispered, leaning his face into my neck and fanning it with his hot, heavy breath.
"You don't have to say that." I mumbled, not realising I had said it.
"What?" He asked, disbelief playing on his tongue.
"Oh shit. No I- I... didn't mean it like that." I stuttered out.
"How'd you mean it then?" His interrogation voice was back.
"I didn't-" I interrupt myself, "It doesn't matter. Can we just get this visit over and done with?"
He nodded and continued to put on some fresh clothes.