Mr Irwin | Ashton Irwin

Eight

That day was a cute day. Mr Clifford, Michael, has been totally giving me special treatment and doesn't even act like a teacher to me, he acts like a best friend.

I took my seat in English, throwing my bag on the floor. I had a throbbing headache and honestly, I was ready to fall asleep. I folded my arms on the table and rested my head on them.

Ashton started lecturing the class about how we don't provide enough evidence to back up our point. He told us all to start taking notes on what he was saying.

"Lauren?" I felt a large hand rocking my shoulder. I looked up to see him crouching in front of me so he was my height. He whispered, "Are you alright?"

"No," my voice was groggy as I laid my head down and closed my eyes.

He picked my notebook up and whispered, "Shall I write your notes up for you?" I didn't even have the energy to speak. I just nodded.

For the rest of the lesson, I basically just struggled not to throw up. I felt like pure shit. My head was throbbing and my stomach was churning. I was ready to throw up any second.

The bell rang, indicating that school was over and we could go back to our rooms. I, however, stayed where I was.

I heard the door close and I was left in silence for at least ten minutes. I heard someone take a seat beside me and I felt that same large hand on my back, soothingly rubbing circles. He softly spoke, "are you okay?"

I leaned my head up and said, "I'm going to be sick." He didn't have time to respond. My hand flew to my mouth as I bolted out the door and down the empty corridors.

I ran the whole way to the girls bathroom, bursting through the door. I collapsed onto the floor in the cubicle as I began to throw up the contents of my stomach.

I felt my hair being held back and Ashton spoke, "Poor baby. You missed the bowl a bit but I'll clean that up after." He kneeled down beside me and with one hand, he held my hair while the other rubbed circles on my back. He said, "Why did you throw up?"

"The pizza had a lot of grease on it at lunch," I breathed. "I'll explain later. Just please, take me away from here."

"Where would you rather go? My room here or my house?" He asked.

"House," I spoke, my voice was barely audible as I had absolutely no energy left, I was drained.

--

He sprinted into his house and lay me on the bathroom floor in front of the toilet. Moments earlier, I was screaming in the car that I was going to be sick.

He held my hair back as I threw up for at least half an hour before my stomach actually became empty as I had spewed the contents up.

Ashton had been away for five minutes, searching up my illness on his laptop. I had told him about the illness. Well, my disorder. I used to force my fingers down my throat until I threw up; for insecurity reasons. That was until I moved here; here, I decided to make a fresh start and stop my habits. My body mustn't be used to the food actually settling in my stomach.

The tears began to spill from my eyes as I lay on the floor. I felt almost lifeless. I didn't have much feeling in my body. All my energy was drained.

Ashton rushed in and said, "do you think you're done?"

My eyes closed even though I was fighting for them to stay open. I whispered, "I'm empty."

He quickly picked me up and began running. I felt myself being laid down somewhere. I heard a car engine start and Ashton said, "We have to get you to hospital."

Oh yay. The hospital knows everything about me. Everyone thinks I'm this confident girl when in reality I'm quite the opposite. The scars on my side are barely visible, you would have to be looking for them to see them.

The hospital know about my depression and anxiety. They know about my eating disorders. They know about everything. They will tell him everything.