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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I sit, staring at a plate with food on it.
It's fruit, something supposedly easy for me to eat.
I run a hand down my face, releasing a deep breath, none of this was easy.
Harry enters the kitchen, eyeing the full plate with caution. In a truly Harry-like fashion, he'd constantly been hovering around me since my return from the hospital.
"You okay?" He asks, coming up beside me.
"Yeah, I'm alright," I say, however he's not fully convinced, "it's just...difficult. Sometimes more so than others."
He looks satisfied with this answer, content that I'm not withholding any feelings which could result with me back in a hospital bed.
"That's understandable, why don't you sit with me and we'll watch a film?"
"Alright," I nod, picking up the plate with me.
We sit down and I adjust myself to sit comfortably. He flicks through the options of films and I sit, staring at the plate.
For some idiotic reason, I decide to speak my thoughts to my older brother. In the back of my mind, I know this isn't stupid - if anything, it's healthy - however there's always going to be doubts.
"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do now," I say, unsure on how to elaborate.
He stops clicking the remote, turning slightly in his seat to face me but not pushing me to talk. He lets me set the pace of the conversation, giving me control over which direction it goes in.
I sigh and lean my head back against the sofa, "it was such a big part of my life. In a weird way, it became almost a routine. I don't know how to let that go."
He mulls over my words for a beat and I don't dare look in his direction for fear of his reaction.
"You make new routines," he says simply, "healthy ones. A sport, or a hobby maybe. Healthy coping mechanisms can be found in anything really."
I nod, chewing on my lip, "I don't know why I started this. I've never been overweight or anything. Whilst mum was alive, I was fine. I guess after she died I needed something constant. Something which was mine."
"Chiara, you don't need a reason for it. You were suffering, badly. Sure, you didn't cope in the healthiest way but you've now got all of our brothers and me who will support you through this.
There's enough of us that there's very few occasions where we're all busy. Ask someone to start a hobby with you, or teach you a new skill. That way, if you ever have the urge to start again, you have something which can keep you busy."
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Recently, picking what I cook for dinner has been more difficult than usual; a lot more thought goes into it.
'Will this be easy for Chiara to eat?' 'Is this too much food for Chiara?' 'Is this not enough food?' 'Will Chiara like this dinner?'
However, I know that any difficulties I have simply choosing what we'll eat could never amount to the difficulties Chiara faces daily.
But, we'll work through it as a family.
Together.
(AN - This one's short so I made it another .5, that's why it's 49.5(b) bc I felt like I needed to get this part of her recovery done and then it felt cleaner in my head to have 50. Be a whole different thing.
That's just how my mind works.
I decided to update the last chapter like half an hour early last night because I wanted to yap. So I apologise for getting so yappy in the comments.
I'll probably update this one later in the day to allow the last one to get some love first.)
