He Cared

9

I woke up back in Brendon's room, and on his bed. My head pounded, and everything ached. But where did he go? Did he put me in here? One question was answered when I saw him walk into the bedroom, a slight frown on his face, a glass of water in one hand, and an ice-pack in the other.

"Oh! You're awake!" His face instantly lit up as he exclaimed excitedly, which made me laugh. He walked over to the side of the bed where I was, put the water on the table beside me, and put the ice-pack on my forehead. I held it in place and he sat at the end of my feet that were under the covers.

"You hit your head pretty hard when you collapsed. I'm honestly surprised that you didn't knock yourself out right then."

"Ha. So am I. I'm so sorry about all this, i'm so dumb. I'm so worthless. I can't do anything right. Mom was righ-" I whispered to myself. My eyes filled with tears as memories filled my head. Brendon cut me off.

"Stop! Stop telling yourself those lies! You can't keep telling yourself that. Your parents are totally wrong, and are complete idiots for thinking that. I-It hurts me so much that you think that. I care about you, a-and I a-always w-will." His voice kept cracking at the end, and he put his head in his hands. 

I gently picked up the ice-pack from my forehead, and placed it beside me. Slowly, I lifted the blanket off of me, and crawled over to him. I wrapped my arms around him tightly, and he did the same. We rocked back and fourth lightly, and pulled away.

"I made some chicken for dinner. I didn't know what you'd like, so I just went the easy route." He sadly smiled while wiping a few tears from his eyes, and walked over to the door, stopping in the doorway waiting for me.

"I'm a-actually not hungry." I looked up into his warm eyes, and slightly smiled.

"But you haven't eaten in, I actually have no clue. You need to eat, Amelia."

My smile turned into a frown. "Yeah, okay."

He knows i'm anorexic and also bulimic. Why is he making me eat? I mean, it's just going to be thrown up and wasted anyway.

I stood up, and walked with him to the kitchen. And sure enough, there was the breaded chicken. All 320 calories. The only reason I know how many calories it is because my parents would always feed that to me, and I just simply looked it up online and stopped eating it when I found out it was actually that many. He handed me a plate, and got himself one. We sat down at the table, and he began eating. I wasn't ready to betray everything I have done. I couldn't. Brendon looked up at me, and urged me to eat.

Slowly, I grabbed my fork and cut off a small piece, placing it in my mouth.

'You're worthless! You aren't good enough! You're still fat! STOP!' The voices in my head screamed at me, making me regret even chewing the tiniest piece of chicken.

"So, I don't know if you care about this, but i'm in a band, and that's why Kenny and Dallon came here. To work on music." I nodded, and smiled.

"That's really cool! What's the band called?"

"Panic! At The Disco" He stated.

I painfully swallowed. Brendon looked at me and cocked his head to the side. I could tell he was on to me, so I started asking questions in attempt to lower his suspicion.

"How popular is Panic! At The Disco?"

"Pretty popular I'd say. We are actually going on tour in a few months, and I wanted to ask if you'd tag along?" Well, I definitely wasn't expecting that. Tour? How did I not hear of Panic! before?

"Of course! I'd love too!" I smiled, and took another painful bite of the chicken.

"Cool! It would be amazing to have you around." He returned my smile, and stuffed another fork full of chicken in his mouth.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom. I'll b-be right back." I cursed myself for stuttering. Now he probably knows what i'm doing.

I speed walked into the bathroom and locked the door. Quickly, I kneeled down in front of the toilet, pushed my fingers in my throat, which triggered my gag reflex. I threw up all of the chicken I ate just minutes before. 

Fastly, I flushed the toilet, washed my hands, and unlocked the door. I walked back into the kitchen, and acted like I was normal. Acted like I was fine.

"Are you done?" Brendon asked while he was putting dishes in the dishwasher.

"Yeah" I answered.

"Oh, um, okay."

I guess I caught him off guard? He walked over to the table, and grabbed my plate, dumping the remaining chicken in the garbage.

If I keep doing this. Keep making myself throw up everything I eat. Keep telling myself i'm not good enough. I will become normal right? I will be happy, right?