in·fin·i·ty

Chapter 9

When I step out of the shower, my knees buckle and I fall to floor with a loud thud. I hear footsteps running up the stairs and a moment later Harry is knocking on the bathroom door.

"Elizabeth? What happened?" the panic in his deep voice makes it even more difficult to breathe.

I rest my head on the cold tile floor because I don't have the energy to get up. A white towel covers my naked body and for once I'm glad I can't see the way my bones stick out and are too prominant. Harry knocks on the door again and black dots consume the edges of my vision. A sudden wave of nausea hits me and I pull myself off the ground and lean over the toilet, vomiting up anything left that I have inside my stomach.

I can vaguely hear Harry's fist pounding against the locked door and I throw up again before sinking to the floor. The cool tiles feel soothing against my hot skin and I lay on the ground, realizing that Harry is no longer yelling my name. My heart sinks a little lower and I find myself wishing he would come hold me again like last night.

I shut my eyes as my mind slips away from me, unable to hold onto a single thought other than the emptyness I feel. The bathroom door flies open and I can barely see Harry standing there through my half closed eyes. I can still make out the look of horror on his face though as he takes in my starving body only half covered up with a towel.

I grab the tip of the toilet seat and try to pull myself up, but my arms are shaking too much and I slide back to the floor. I struggle to keep my eyes open as Harry bends down and picks me up, careful to keep the towel securly wrapped around me. My wet hair sticks to my face when Harry sets me carefully down on his bed. I wish I could understand what he was saying, but all I can see is his mouth moving and the look of panic in his dark eyes. I try to smile weakly to sooth the unknown reason as to why Harry is afraid, but my vision goes dark once again.

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When I'm able to open my eyes again, Harry is standing over me, a warm hand pressed against my forehead and a look of absolute fury written all over his pretty face.

"What the hell? What have you been doing to yourself?" Harry demands, his gaze sweeping up and down my body.

I briefly thank God that I still have a towel wrapped around me, yet I guarentee anyone could still see the way my hips bones jutted out, even through the fabric. I can tell by how damp my hair still is that I have only been out for a couple minutes.

When I don't respond to Harry, he runs a hand through his hair in distress and starts pacing the room, opening his mouth and closing it at least five times. My thoughts are still slightly slow and limbs too shaky. I lie there waiting for Harry to start talking because it's obvious that he has a lot to say. He stops in front of me and drags his hands down his face, clearly upset.

"I just want to know what happened," his deep voice sounds defeated, "I need to know why you've been doing this, why you feel the need to hurt yourself and not eat until-" he pauses, gesturing to my starved body, "I just don't understand. Please help me understand, love."

I shake my head, unwilling to share my reasons behind everything i've down to Harry when he's been lying to me all this time.

He walks back over to my side of the bed and sits down next to me, hands clasped together tightly in his lap. The cuts on them are bleeding again and I have to look away when my stomach churns.

"Why won't you tell me?" he asks softly.

I shrug, "Why should I tell you my secrets when you won't tell me yours?"