Chiara Daveys is living 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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A sense of failure flows through me whilst I hold the skeletal frame of my little sister against my chest in the car.
Oh, God.
Her head rolls towards me and I support it with my shoulder, holding her up higher against me.
I press my lips against her temple and hold them there.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper against her temple, "I'm so sorry," I shake my head.
Despair. Guilt. That's how I feel right now.
Lorenzo drives to the hospital.
"Get her checked in whilst I find a space to park the car," he says.
Noah gets out of the passenger seat and opens my car door so I can get out.
We rush in and stop the first nurse that we see.
"My sister has passed out. We think she has an eating disorder. Please help, I don't know what to do," I say, panicked.
"What's your sister's name?" She asks, calling someone over with a bed.
"Chiara Moretti," I reply, placing her down on the bed.
"Alright, we're going to help Chiara, okay? Are you her guardian?" She stops me from following the bed with my sister on by continuing to ask me questions.
"Yeah, I am. Can I go with her?" I try to push past.
She moves with me, blocking my attempts to follow where my little girl is being wheeled away, still unconscious.
"I'm sorry, Sir, but you can't go with her yet. The doctor will check her over and then speak to you after. Till then, you'll just have to sit in the waiting room."
-
A waiting room. Dull, white walls; stiff, plastic chairs; all-consuming, crippling concern.
It's been exactly 47 minutes since I last saw Chiara.
After 6 minutes, Lorenzo came and found Noah and I, sitting down with us.
After 21 minutes, the rest of my brothers arrived and joined us in the waiting room.
We've been sat in silence for 26 minutes.
I stare blankly at the wall in front of me, counting the little bumps in the wall. 58 bumps.
I count them again, however this time I count 60. So, obviously, I recount them.
I've counted over 40 when a doctor walks over to us.
"Who is Chiara Moretti's guardian?" He asks, stopping by our large group.
I immediately get up, "I am."
He leads me towards the side, away from my brothers, "After running some tests on your sister and getting the results back, it's become clear that Miss Moretti is suffering from an eating disorder. She's lacking some necessary nutrients. It's likely your sister is either suffering from anorexia or avoidant and restrictive food intake."
I nod along, taking in every word.
"Now, Miss Moretti is currently awake. You may go see her, however I have noticed you've got quite a large group so I'd recommend you go in by yourself first. Just check she's okay and not overwhelmed before letting lots of people in. I've hooked her up to an IV which will make up for her lack of nutrients. I'd recommend talking about routes to take to support her."
He guides me towards Chiara's hospital room, "I'll be back later to run some more tests." Then he leaves.
I take a quick moment to focus on my breathing, calming myself down before turning the handle.
"Hey, Principessa," I shut the door behind me.
"Hi, Giovanni," she says, her voice small.
I walk over towards her bed and take a seat on the edge of it.
"How are you feeling?" I ask quietly, taking hold of one of her hands.
She shrugs, not giving a verbal reply. I nod, not pushing her to answer.
"I'm sorry," she tells me softly.
My brows furrow, "why are you sorry?"
"Because I thought I had control over it and now it's stressing you out," she looks me in the eyes as she speaks.
I sigh, "move over a smidge."
She shuffles to the right a bit and I move to sit next to her, leaning against the headboard of the hospital bed.
I wrap my arm around her and pull her towards my side, more for my comfort than her own.
"Chiara, you shouldn't think that you had to control this by yourself. You have six brothers who would drop anything to help you. And, if you didn't feel comfortable coming to us then you have a crazy number of aunts and a Nonna who also would've done anything to help you."
She chews on her lip and nods.
"You've got such a big support system, okay, sweetheart? We all care about you so much and don't want to see you suffering through anything on your own."
She leans further into my side, "I didn't think it was too bad. I thought it was the same as last time. Then I started passing out every so often but," she pauses to take a couple breaths, "I didn't know how to stop, Giovanni. But I wanted to, I swear."
I take notes of the small mention that this isn't the first time.
"It's okay," I say, resting my head on top of hers when I feel her breathing faster, "it's okay," I repeat over and over until she calms down.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she begins to cry.
"Shh," I whisper against her hair, "it's okay, I promise. You have no reason to be sorry, okay?"
I repeat this over and over until she calms down again.
"I love you," she says, her voice small and tired.
"I love you too, Principessa," I mumble to her against her head.
"Are the others here?"
"They're in the waiting room. Do you want me to go get them?"
She shifts to look up at me, "don't go, please. Can you just message one of them?"
"Of course I can," I bring my phone out of my pocket and message Harry.
Not a minute later, the door is opening and the boys are all making their way into the room.
There's a quiet hum of conversation, topics changing frequently. However, there is the constant reassurance that we will get through this.
We will give Chiara all the support she needs and more.
(AN - so fun fact of the day: I wasn't going to update today.
Majority of this chapter wasn't written an hour ago and I just pulled it out my ass. But I was going to update next week then I had lots of people begging for this)
