billie eilish mental health imagines

never ending cycle

a/n: contains themes of contamination ocd and sickness/throwing up

____

i felt my hand drop the fork onto the plate beneath me, unable to force myself to take a bite of the food that had been sitting infront of me for a while.

it wasn't often that i struggled with eating but, when i did, i could go weeks without touching food even if it was for someone else.

my mind had the idea that my food could simply become contaminate it if it was left out for too long and that, if my body came into contact, i would die.

these kinds of thoughts continued to surround me when i attempted any sort of task and that meant that i could go weeks without eating.

it wasn't something that i chose to do, nor something that i enjoyed as i hated my every move being controlled by the thoughts in my mind.

but i had no choice but to listen to them, fearful that something might happen to me, or someone i loved, if i didn't.

it was exhausting cycle that i couldn't seem to put a stop too, not without some sort of relapse.

my body stood from the seat, moving towards the bin before i emptied out the contents of what was left on the plate.

then, without even a second thought, i rinsed the plate before placing it into the dishwasher and following my usual routine.

i turned the tap on first, noticing that the germs were more likely to be on there and then i took two pumps of the soap before placing my hands under the lukewarm water.

it's too cold.
it's not going to kill any of the germs.

so i turned the tap back off, repeating the process multiple times until the water was the correct temperature that it burnt.

once that was done i allowed my hands to airdry, not wanting to touch a towel that other people would've used.

i had no control over whether they'd wiped their clean, or dirty, hands on it, nor did i know what else they might've used it for.

once i was satisfied, i headed back into billie's room with my hands placed firmly infront of me so that i could keep an eye on them.

"are you okay my love?" billie questioned as i entered her room, causing me to walk into the door.

you hand just touched the door.
you need to wash them.
there's germs.
you'll get sick.

this whole ideology stemmed from one time where i was making a curry with my mom and i touched some raw chicken.

i threw up only an hour later and mom blamed it on the cross contamination, making a joke about how it 'must've been the raw chicken'.

ever since then i hadn't touched any raw meat, i'd turned vegan and i struggled with the idea that all my food was cross contaminated.

"are you okay y/n?" billie spoke.

i need to wash my hands.
i have to wash my hands.

without saying a word to her, i headed into the bathroom in a state, racing to remove the germs from hands.

i repeated the same process as i had in the kitchen, making sure to use two pumps of soap as one just wasn't enough.

once i was sure that my hands were clean, i moved onto my body and began to remove my clothes one by one before placing them into a basket.

this was separate to the one that billie used for her clothes as she left the house much more frequently than i did and...cross contamination.