Chiara Daveys is loving a good life in England - if you ignore her constant struggle with food, lack of a guardian and how she's constantly working to pay the bills.
At 17 years old, she's been unaware of her 6 brothers who have spent the 14 years o...
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After a while of sitting there, we get up and I dust off my trousers.
"My feet hurt," I whine and stretch my back out, hearing and feeling a satisfying crack.
My sunglasses are flicked down from my head onto my nose, "you shouldn't have worn flipflops on a walk."
I pout at my older brother and he rolls his eyes, turning around and squatting down.
With an excited squeal, I quickly take off my flipflops and jump onto his back, swinging my arms around his shoulders.
"Huh," I look around from this new height.
"What was that 'huh' for?" Giovanni questions.
"The weather is actually not that different up here," I say with faux shock.
"I will drop you," he threatens.
"That was such a Taylor thing to say," I rest my head on his shoulder as he begins to move.
Before we're too far away, I turn my head back and whisper goodbye to our dad.
Not too long later, we're back at the house and I'm running up the stairs.
"Okay, Speedy, don't slip," Giovanni calls out as he locks the front door.
I don't reply and make my way into my room, grabbing a white one piece swim suit and a large t-shirt as a cover up, ready to relax on a sun lounger.
As I make my way down the stairs, I'm suddenly picked up from the ground and thrown over somebody's shoulder.
What. The. Fuck.
Obviously, I start to violently smack my hands against whichever brother has decided to handle me as if I were a ragdoll.
"Hey, Chiara," Emilio murmurs as he walks past, looking down at his phone.
"Help me!" I shout as I'm carried through the house towards the garden.
Oh. Fuck.
"You bitch!" I scream as we near the pool before I'm chucked into the water.
Holding my breath, I push off the bottom of the pool to reach the top. When my face is out of the water, I take in a lungfull of air and push my hair away from where it's stuck against my face.
I glare at Taylor who stands there with a grin on his face.
"Curls!" He exclaims happily and I swear I've never seen a grin so big on his face.
"You did that," I breathe out, "just to get my curls back."
"Yep. Just like magic."
"Oh, fuck you, bitch," I glare as I tread the water, "straightening my hair was not that deep."
"Oh well," he shrugs carelessly before walking away from the pool.
I just roll my eyes before swimming to the edge of the pool.
I have to deal with the disgusting feeling of my wet shirt as I make my way up to the sun bed to dry off.
It takes me a moment before I decide to just take off the shirt, the uncomfortable feeling overpowering my want to hide my body.
Thanks a lot, Taylor.
I move a parosole closer to my sun lounger and head to the kitchen to grab a crispy Coke so that I can fully relax after what just happened.
Before I know it, the afternoon has passed and I'm sat at the dinner table with all my brothers.
Whilst in Italy, I would say that in some ways it's been easier to not eat. In other ways it's been harder as the heat tends to make me dizzy and hungry.
Then I feel sick.
Not physically, though. I feel sick of myself. Being dizzy is in no way healthy, but it means what I'm doing is working.
And, right now, that's all I can wish for.
It's easier in the way that the dinners aren't a proper meal. Food is placed in the middle of the table and we just pick out whatever we want to eat. It's relaxed and easy.
If you haven't got constant thoughts about your weight.
Whatever I don't pick up is quickly snatched up and scoffed down by one of my brothers, so I haven't got the guilt of wasting food crushing down on me.
Afterwards, we each get up from our seats at the table and make our way to various areas of the house, agreeing to meet up in the living room and play some games.
I make my way up to my room and grab some different clothes and get the water running for a shower.
I sit on my bed and dry my hair out after getting changed into an extra baggy t-shirt and a pair of black leggins as I hear a knock on one of the doors.
One of the things that I would say is the coolest part of this house is that mine and Noah's rooms are connected. We have a door that we can use to just go to one another's room.
"Come in," I call out, knowing it's him.
"Oh, Chiara," he sighs as he flops into my bed.
"What's up?" I ask as I scrunch my hair.
"Oh, Chiara," he sighs again dramatically.
"What?" I repeat.
He just sighs.
I throw the towel I'd been using at his face, "you must me in an annoying mood this evening."
I get up from my seat on the bed and get major dizziness. This is my consequence.
"You okay?" He sits up with furrowed brows.
"Yeah, I'm good," I smile tightly once I've got clear vision again.
He doesn't look too certain, "wants me to call Giovanni?"
"No, it's fine," I reply evenly, "we going to go downstairs to play some games?"
"Yeah, sure," he gets up from the bed unsurely.
As I walk out before him I breathe out deeply, I really can't have them catching on.
(AN OKAYY THIS ONE WAS REALLY RUSHED ICL. I JUST WANTED TO GET THE ITALY CHAPTERS FINISHED BEFORE SOME DRAMAMAMAMAMAMAMMAMAMAMAMMAMA STARTS SO FORGIVE ME I BEG IF THE ENDING ESPECIALLY IS SHITTY.)
