chapter twelve

- HARRY STYLES -

FOUR LONG DAYS. In and out of the hospital I went, back and forth with little to no sleep at all. The seconds ticked by, which became minutes, which became a painstakingly endless amount of hours. She was awake; she wasn't awake. I could see her; I couldn't see her. She needed rest; she needed company. Four days began to feel like four years.

This wasn't the way I thought I'd meet Delilah parents. This wasn't the way I thought I'd bond with her brother. Stuck in a noisy hospital waiting room for hours on end, barely pausing a moment to eat. We were all worried about her. The doctor said she still wasn't eating. It wouldn't be long before they'd have to force it, and that was no way for Delilah to get better.

Her father was an intimidating man, however, I was sure it was merely a tough front. I saw the way he gently whispered to his wife and showed affection towards his son. He was no cruel man. I had a feeling the show was all for me, which was understandable. I wondered if they knew about the abuse Delilah went through. I doubted it, because I was sure Justin would be six feet under by now if either of her military relatives got a hold of him.

On that fourth day, she was asleep when I visited her. I sat in that chair at her bedside, instinctively looking over at her vitals. Her blood pressure was devastatingly low due to her malnutrition, and I had to force myself to look away from it. A part of me felt like it was my fault she ended up like this. I was her trainer. I should've kept a better eye on her. Should've made sure she was eating.

Yet the other part of me knew that I wouldn't have been able to stop this. You can't shove food down someone's throat. It's equally mentally unhealthy as not eating is physically. I tried to make sense of it in my head, and knew there was little way to prevent this. But I still couldn't help but wonder... could I have kept this from happening?

The doctor was outside her room when I left, closing the door quietly behind me. I gave him a nod and went to walk away, but he caught my arm. Something in his eyes told me the entire situation wasn't looking good.

"Sorry to hold you up, but I have a few questions. You're her personal trainer, yes?"

I frowned, eyebrows knitting together. "I am."

"Well, Delilah has been... mumbling things lately. Something about people laughing at her and to make 'them' go away. Now, I've already questioned her family and they've said they hadn't heard anything about it but--"

"Twice," I told him, running a hand through my hair. "Monday we were at the park and she said something about a group laughing at her, but I didn't see anyone. Then on Tuesday before she fainted, she said to make them stop." I shook my head in confusion. "What's wrong? Is Delilah... schizophrenic or something?"

The doctor attempted a genuine smile. "Oh, no. I don't think it's that extreme. You see, Delilah is severely malnourished. Very rarely does malnutrition cause hallucinations, but it's possible. The headaches play a role in it as well. However..." He bit his bottom lip and nodded to himself. "I do think she's paranoid, which could also play a factor into the hallucinations. But I'm no professional, so I recommend Delilah gets a therapist."

I rubbed my temples. "I tried to tell her that but she just completely ignored me. I didn't want to push it and upset her."

"You can't help someone if they're not trying to help themselves," he remarked. "I have a gut feeling that if Delilah doesn't get help soon, she'll only become more ill. Mentally and physically."

He gave my shoulder a squeeze before entering Delilah's room, leaving me to race through my thoughts. I hesitated going back to the waiting room, knowing her family would eventually have to know what the doctor just shared with me. I didn't feel like it was my place to say anything, though.

I hoped that the doctor would tell them. And soon.

***

Nathan came and sat beside me after his visit with his sister. He didn't speak for a long time, just kept rubbing his face. He had beat himself down a lot the first couple of days, saying he should've stayed until we made it into the theater. His father told him there was nothing he could've done that I didn't do, and it was comforting to know that none of them blamed me.

"How long?" he murmured.

I glanced over at him, figuring that he meant how long had she not been eating. "A while.... She would never talk to me about it. Always said she was fine."

Nathan nodded, pursing his lips. "The doctor said they're going to keep her until she starts eating and if she doesn't... God, I don't want to see her with a tube down her nose."

"I don't either."

"Would that really even help her?"

I shrugged, indifferent. "With the malnutrition issue, sure. But she won't feel any better if it's not what she wants."

"How do we get her to want to eat?"

I hung my head. "I don't think we can."

He let out a breath, then was rubbing his face again.

"Maybe you should go get some sleep," I told him. "You've been here almost every single night. There's nothing we can do for her while she's here."

He nodded with my words, but the strain was still on his face. He was stuck between letting the doctors do their job, and staying to make sure they did their job to the best of their abilities. I could relate because I was trapped in the same position. I knew I could do nothing beneficial here, but just her knowing that I was here seemed helpful enough. I don't know. I'd like to believe my presence had the same effect of serenity for her as hers did for me.

Maybe I was being too hopeful, too upfront. It's barely been a week since Justin left her, and there I was telling her my feelings. But it felt necessary. Delilah never believed anyone was out there for her, but I was. And so was her family. Being here was the extra glue for her. We wouldn't leave. Not unless she directly told us to.

"Tell me this," Nathan said, looking over at me. "Did that bastard start this?"

I thought about it for a moment. I wasn't sure how long the abuse had been going on, but my bet was on a while. No one tears themselves down like that overnight. That kind of thing happened from constant belittling. The very reason Delilah paid for a trainer was so she could lose weight for her boyfriend of eight years. Not once had she mentioned being healthy for herself; always for him.

"I think he played a major part in it," I admitted. "But I don't know their entire history, so I can't just go making assumptions, you know?"

"I know their history and I never liked him," he grumbled. "Something was always just off. Sure, he was sweet to her in public but when they had fights... I thought Delilah would never quit crying. He yelled at her--a lot. And still, she went back to him every time."

"I think she finally accepted it. Or at least acknowledged it."

"Yeah, well, he better hope I don't see him."

I laughed, but not because the situation was funny. I laughed because I utterly agree with him. I tried to detach myself from confrontations, but some were bound to happen. A physical fight wasn't my intention, but I don't think I'd have a problem if it came to that. Mainly, though, I just had a lot of unpleasant words for him. Not that he'd care or he'd listen, but maybe it would give me some peace of mind to know that I at least said it.

Nathan, on the other hand, I was quite positive was itching for hand-to-hand conflict. He was in the Navy. He could handle himself in any sort of fight. Justin, the college football star, wouldn't stand a chance.

Delilah's parents came out of her room, looking just as stressed as they had the first day the hospital called them. Such an awkward meeting it had been for me, but they were friendly enough that they didn't care who I was, just that I brought their daughter to help. Her mother and Nathan were accepting enough, but her father was still very hesitant with me.

Again, it was totally understandable, and I didn't try to be anything I wasn't around them. Delilah had told me to be myself when I met Nathan, and quite frankly, I didn't have the strength to play a different role. I was just as concerned about Delilah as they were, and if that wasn't genuine enough, I'm not sure I'd ever find out what is.

"Your mother is exhausted, so Delilah and I convinced her she needs to go home and get some rest," her father said, looking to Nathan. "We're gonna stop by for some lunch on the way."

Nathan looked to me. "Hungry?"

I held my hands up. "Oh, no, I'm all right. But thank you."

Delilah's mother placed her hand on my shoulder. "Have you gotten enough rest? You look almost as bad as I do." She gave a little laugh, half weak and half sincere.

I tried to reassure her. "I'm fine, thank you. Delilah was asleep when I went in earlier, so I think I'll hang around to talk to her a bit."

Her mother smiled. "Thank you." She gave my shoulder a squeeze, then headed for the exit.

Nathan patted my back on his way out, and Delilah's father gave me a tight-lipped smile. Polite enough for me.

I headed back to Delilah's room, knocking on it twice. She allowed me in, and she laughed before she even saw me. "Either I'm popular, or you haven't gone home to sleep."

"You caught me."

She tapped the bed beside her, and I hesitated before sitting there. I pulled my knees up, glanced over at her. She was subconsciously picking at the tape that held the IV down. I gently grabbed her hand and set it in her lap. She hadn't made a second attempt of escape, but she was on edge every time she was awake. Her distrust in doctors baffled me, but I knew better than to question Delilah. She was a complete enigma to me, and maybe even to herself.

"Your family headed home," I informed her.

"I know. I told them to," she said.

"I've been eating fast food every day for lunch," I admitted. "I think I might just lose my verification as a trainer."

She shrugged. "You'll just be stuck with me."

"I can live with that."

"Speaking of, how many clients do you usually have at a time?" She furrowed her eyebrows quizzically.

"Depends. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, I'm all yours for the mornings and afternoons. Sometimes I'll help people out in the gym. Tuesdays and Thursdays, I had a couple of people but they prefer their homes now. I requested last week or the week before to not get anymore until I've helped you."

"You're giving up the opportunity of money for me?"

I rolled my eyes, teasingly bumping my shoulder with hers. "I know. It's quite the sacrifice, isn't it? Guess you could say I like to live life on the edge."

"No." She laughed. "I can't say that."

"Not even to humor me?"

"Not even then."

I laid my head back on the pillow, smiling to myself. Getting money wasn't a priority when Delilah was around. Her well-being and making her happy were the only thoughts filling my mind, totally blinding me from anything else of importance. I had money, though. Not ridiculously rich, but enough to keep me comfortable. I didn't spend it often, either, so maybe it seemed like I was rich with all the saved money in the bank.

I realized I was still holding Delilah's hand. But she hadn't pulled away, and I certainly wasn't going to if she didn't ask for it. I looked down at my hand on tops of hers, maneuvering them so I could lace our fingers. Such a mere gesture was incredibly soothing to me, and I was sure she thought the same.

So we just sat there for a long while together, quiet and relaxed.

Our peace was shortly interrupted, however, when the door opened a second time. Assuming it was the doctor, I climbed out of the bed to take the seat next to Delilah instead, so I wouldn't be in his way. Delilah's fingers slipped from mine, and I clasped my hands together in an attempt to hold onto the warmth.

The warmth didn't last long.

Delilah gasped; I looked up.

Justin stood at the foot of the bed.