How to fix the Broken Girl

Step Twelve: Take Care of Her

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Chapter twelve
[STATUS: NOT EDITED]
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I wake up, slowly turning my body to the side and looking at the clock on my nightstand- 10:32.

I smile and grab my phone, Joe is at church. She said the first service starts at seven, but she always goes to the second service to help with the kids- since there are more in the second service, which starts at ten.

*•ME*•
Hey, how's church?

I stand up and set my phone back on my nightstand. She is probably busy with the kids and won't answer for a while.

Buzz, buzz.

Well, that was quick. I walk back over and grab my phone, after putting on a pair of sweatpants.

*•MY JOE*•
I wouldn't know. I'm so sick, it hurts. But the movie I'm watching is great.

I frown. It's probably from us running around in the rain last night, she didn't have a jacket. What kind of man am I? I should have drove her.

*•ME•*
Got to go.

I smile to myself, as I slide on a black t-shirt and walk out into my kitchen.

*•MY JOE*•
Aw, asshole.

•*JOELLE'S POV*•

I lay on my couch, alone after Justin just ditched me, in my blue plaid comfy pants and a black tank top, my hair thrown up in an ugly messy bun. I should have known he didn't care.

I press a button on my remote so my favorite movie starts playing, for the third time today. I woke up early today, my head pounding and a sore throat, followed by a stomach bug. I can't breathe or eat anything without hurling it up. I hate Mother Nature.

And to add to all my problems, I can't sleep. I've tried all morning. I've tried listening to music, I've tried relaxing my body from my toes up to my head and I've even tried warm milk. But puking it up didn't help at all.

Knock, knock. What the fuck?

The mail doesn't come on Sundays, but maybe I have a special package or something.

I stand up and wrap my red knitted blanket around my body, before opening the door.

Justin stands there, a basket in his hand and a plastic bag in the other. I furrow my brow. I can't say I don't feel happy he is here, but this cold is really making it hard for me to enjoy. He isn't wearing his normal clothes; grey sweatpants and a black v-neck shirt. But I see his dog tags hanging on his neck, underneath his shirt.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, looking down at his basket. He puts it behind his back, hiding it from me.

"Are you going to let in or make me stand out here all day?" He raises an eyebrow at me and I groan.

I walk away, leaving the door open and plop down onto my couch. He follows me, after shutting the door and sliding of his shoes, and sits down beside me.

"Cheer up." He sets a basket on the coffee table, sliding it over to me and setting the plastic bag down on the floor beside his feet.

I grab the basket and tear off the white tissue paper. A small plastic package of tissues, a few candy bars, a bottle of ginger ale, a small cup full of chicken broth cubes and a small bag of salt and vinegar chips. How does he know salt and vinegar chips are my favorite?

I look over at him, a small smile on my face. "You're the best."

"Oh, if you think that so far, here." He pulls up the plastic bag and dumps it on the table. A bunch of medicine boxes fall out, a full size bag of chips, hot chocolate and two foiled sandwiches, I think. "I didn't know what hurt so, I got everything."

I laugh, smiling at him. "I was going to take the gift and make you leave, but now I think I'll let you stay and watch a movie with me."

He gives me a sarcastic look, "Aw, thanks, sweetcheeks."

I laugh before grabbing my stomach. "I'll be back, don't follow me."

I speed walk to the bathroom, closing the door behind me and sitting the tub and holding the trash can between my legs. I groan, putting my hands on the top of my head.

"Joe." Justin calls, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, don't come in." I manage to choke out. I puke into the can, gagging. I hardly have anything in my system to vomit, so it's mostly dry heaves.

I don't want Justin in here. He doesn't need to see me like this. I look like shit and he doesn't need to help me when I'm sick. I can do it myself.

"I'm coming in."

"Justin." I groan as he walks into the bathroom.

"I'm here to help you get better, Joe. I'm not going to run away if you puke." He laughs at me, then kneels down beside me.

I start to hurl again, piling up whatever is left inside of me. Justin grabs the loose pieces of my hair that fell out of my bun and holds them back. I feel his large hand rub my lower back, in circles.

"You don't need to watch this." I cough, spitting into the trash can. I feel a little better, so I sit up and reach for my toothbrush on the counter.

"Yes, I do. I'm your.. Friend." He winks at me and I laugh a little.

"You're a wreck."

"You know, you are such an emotional abuser. First I'm ridiculous and now I'm a reck." He dramatically sticks his hand over his heart and I roll my eyes.

"I'm sorry." I laugh a little, brushing my teeth.

*•JUSTIN'S POV*•

I turn away, after watching the white liquid drip out onto her bottom lip. She really has no idea how much she effects me.

I hear the sink run and I turn back around to see her wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She leaves the bathroom, not bothering to see if I'm following, but I follow anyway.

"I don't want to get you sick, you shouldn't get to close." She sits down on the couch and presses play on the movie.

Much to my dismay, I sit down on the other end of the couch.

••••

The movie is almost over, but during about the half mark of this boring chick flick, Joe curled up into a ball and put her head on my lap, swinging her arm over to lay on my torso.

I watch as she lays down on me, her mouth parted slightly and deep breaths coming out of her full lips. Her eyes flutter open and she tries to watch the movie, but she closes her eyes and cuddles closer to me.

I smile as she falls asleep next to me.