Living with 5SOS

6

"Dinner!" I heard Michael yell up the stairs.

"Cmon, babygirl." Luke picked me up and set me on his hip.

"Oh, umm, I ate a lot of popcorn so I'm not really hungry. I'll eat later." I struggled to escape Luke's grasp but he held me tighter and smacked my butt.

"Ouch! Hey!"

"You didn't touch the popcorn, I watched. You're going to eat whether you like it or not." Luke growled.

He carried me down the stairs as I pouted. He plopped me in a chair.

Michael set a salad in front of me and I sighed in relief, that is, until he also set down steak and garlic bread.

I ate the salad first, and I could feel Luke's eyes burn holes into my head the whole time.

I grabbed the plate with steak and bread on it and stared at it, then grabbed my fork and knife and cut a piece off. I carefully are it, although I felt as though I might puke.

I glanced at Luke to see him smiling in approval before he focused on his food again.

I engaged slightly in the conversation going around the table, but payed little attention to it as I did the sick feeling in my stomach and while body as I chewed the bread.

I glanced at Luke as I felt his stare in me, and he smiled at me proudly.

He wouldn't be proud if he knew what I was planning.

When everyone had finished, slowly, all the boys went to bed, as it was 10:30 and they said they had an interview early tomorrow, what they were interviewing for I had no idea, but I wasn't complaining.

I ran into the bathroom once they were all asleep.

I felt so sick it would be easy to puke. I had stuffed myself, with the pressure of Luke's eyes in my skull.

I gently stuck my fingers as far down my throat as possible, and began gagging horribly.

I pulled my fingers out and tried again. And again. Until finally I felt nausea take over and bile rise up my throat and I puked in the toilet, trying to be as quiet as possible.

Once my stomach was emptied, I stood up and flushed the toilet, then washed out my mouth and washed my hands. I walked into the hall towards my room and bumped into a hard chest.

I looked up to find a sleepy Ashton staring down at me.

"What are you doing up?" He slurred.

"Oh, umm, just going to the bathroom."

"We're you puking?"

Crap. "Ya, umm, not feeling too good, I'm just gonna go to bed." I bit my lip as I slipped past Ashton and into my room.

I glanced at Luke's door, wondering if I'd be able to sleep without him.

I'd slept with him the past two night because of nightmares, but I'm afraid I'll end up accidentally spilling my guts about how I purposely spilled my guts.

I laid in my bed, keeping the door open so light could come in.

I would never admit it out loud but I'm afraid of the dark.

Rolling under the covers I tried to find a comfortable position. Once I felt tired, I close my eyes tightly and try not to let dreams and memories consume my thoughts.

Instead, I begin thinking about Luke.

I think, no, I know, I'm developing feelings for him. I mean, why wouldn't I? Not only is he sweet, caring, and super hot, but he saved me.

He's been so nice to me, and tried to make sure I'm healthy and not hurt.

I don't even think he likes me. He might not even care. Maybe I'm just a burden.

Guilt overwhelms me as I realize what a terrible thing I did.

He looked so proud that he was able o help me with my anorexia, that I would eat without much struggle, and I let him believe it. But then what do I do?

I ruin it. Just like I ruin everything else. I betray his trust and if he knew he'd be so upset.

I totally lied. I let him think I was taking care of myself when all I did was hurt myself more.

I'm a horrible person.

I should tell him.

But hell spank me.

But it's the right thing to do.

But hell spank me.

But I deserve it.

But it's wrong.

So was what you did.

I stand from the bed and walk to the door.

Nope. Not getting spanked.

I walk back to my bed and get in.

You're a horrible, horrible person who deserves to rot in hell. You betrayed his trust. He was so proud of himself and you, and it was all fake.

At least he was happy.

It was fake. It was wrong. You deserve to be beaten.

That's why I'm not telling, he'll beat me.

You deserve it. You're a bad, bad, person.

Tears stream down my face.

I stood again and walked to the door. I opened it and walked to his door.

Nope.

I walk back into my room and get in bed.

I repeat this until 1:15, when I finally get in bed and go to sleep, with many bad thoughts swarming my brain.