My Name is Gabby Simpson (The Vamps Fanfiction)

Delirium

“Gabrielle, we’re here,” Bradley said to me.

I had no idea what was happening.

“Gabrielle, come on.”

Who is talking to me? I thought. Am I sleeping?

“Here, I’ll help you. But you have to work with me.”

An arm slipped underneath my shoulders, pulling me out of the position I had curled my body into. Moaning, I pushed my feet out the open door and found my grasp on the ground. My whole body ached and the moment I tried to stand, I crumpled to the earth.

Arms caught me before I hit the concrete, and the next thing I knew I was looking up at the stars. As if I were high, or extremely wasted,  everything was spinning and my mind couldn’t comprehend any of it.

Bradley swore, and placed another arm beneath my legs. He was carrying me, and if I had been in a sensible mindset, I probably would have died from mortification.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but eventually we were inside. The lights were bright, so bright, and in my pathetic state, it scared me.  

“Brad, what’s going on?” A Scottish voice asked.

“I can’t explain right now, Con, but could you get James for me?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Feet were retreating.

I was laid down on something soft. A couch, I realized. It was black and suede. Expensive looking.

Bradley shook his arms out, and sat beside me.

“I’m going to call our medical professional,” he told me softly. “She can help, and she’ll tell us if we need to bring you to the hospital.”

My senses had begun to come back to me, but the massive headache that pounded in my brain remained. It didn’t feel natural. I tentatively touched my eye. “No... I’m fine.”

He raised an eyebrow. “No offence, but in the light you look a lot worse.” He beckoned toward my face and the wrist I awkwardly cradled. Luckily, I didn’t give a shit about how I appeared. 

The room I was in must’ve been their living area. There was a fireplace, surrounded by dark bricks. The walls were white, just like the couch. A large flat television was in the corner, and guitars sat in their stands all throughout the room. Other furniture, including a glass coffee table, a glass bookshelf, and other white and black chairs were set apart- everything stylish and modern.

It had been years since I was in a real house, and never in my life had I seen a house this nice.

After a few moments, Bradley stood up. “I’ll go give her a call.”

“No!” I said again. “Please, Bradley…” He didn’t listen to me, taking his phone out of his pocket.

“Stop.” My voice was firm, but still held a trace of pleading that I couldn’t get rid of. “I’m- I’m fine. You keep not listening to me. So- just listen to me now.” I looked up at him.

He looked back at me, his huge brown eyes finally seeing. “Okay,” he said, and put his phone back in his pocket. “I’ll wait until the morning.”

“Thank you,” I said slowly, reluctantly.

And then a weird shift happened in my stomach. “Oh no,” I said.

“Oh no?”

Oh no.

I tried to get off the couch, but my legs still failed to work. Having fallen to the ground, I contemplated trying to crawl-

There wasn’t enough time for that.

Painfully, I pulled my torn jacket off and held it in front of my mouth before I vomited everywhere.  

“Oh shit,” Bradley said.

Over and over again, I emptied the nonexistent contents of my stomach, resulting in a clear acid that soaked my coat. My head throbbed so hard, I couldn’t focus on anything else, sending me back into my delirium. And my eyes had begun to water, like everyone’s does when they throw up, so suddenly I was bawling.

I was a disgusting mess of pity and embarrassment.  

I didn’t look at Bradley. Anywhere but at Bradley. Turning my gaze elsewhere, my eyes happened to settled itself on one of the boys from this afternoon.

This afternoon. It felt so long ago.

James, I assumed through my haze and my tears. His dark blonde hair, also sleep messed, stood straight up like a porcupine.

“Brad, what-”

Bradley turned his attention to him. “Sorry to wake you. I just…” They both looked at me. “I’ll tell you about it later, but she can’t walk and I need help bringing her up the stairs.”

I began to breathe heavily. I didn’t want this boy touching me and my vomit. I couldn’t handle that.

But just like everything else, it wasn’t my choice.

Bradley took my coat when I was done throwing up, and James came over, lifting me up like I was some kind of doll. I wanted to fight, I wanted to thrash, hating the embarrassment of being treated so helplessly, but I knew it would only make it worse.

He brought me upstairs, Bradley following, and put me down on a guest bed of theirs. It was hard for me to believe that anyone could have an extra bed.  

They asked me if I was okay, and if I needed anything. Bradley brought me water. They assured me they would be right down the hall, if I needed their help. I only needed to call. They told me I was going to be okay. And in the morning, we were going to figure everything out.

This- all of this- I hated it. I hated what they were saying, how they spoke to me. Like I was fragile, and couldn’t take care of myself. But that wasn’t their fault; it was mine. Maybe that was me. Maybe I was fragile, and couldn’t take care of myself. No, no. That couldn’t happen, it couldn’t be me.

I hated feeling so helpless. It stripped me of my identity.

Because I was Gabby Simpson. I was strong, and I didn’t need anyone.

But they - those men, these boys, Bradley- made me feel otherwise, and I hated it all.