TW: ED CONTENT

**Also not edited yet

I am one day purge-free today.

I forgot how hard it is to get back on track.

I can feel myself starting to crack.

I'm so tired. So, so tired. I can't handle the obsessive thoughts anymore. I'm holding myself together with stubbornness and undereye concealer, but I can feel myself fraying.

I toss and turn at night only to have to swallow large doses of sleeping pills to rest.

Are you okay? You have barely talked to me all week – Warner

I ignore it. I'm scared that If I talk to him, I will word vomit the truth to him. That I relapsed and I'm struggling. I don't want him to blame it on the fact that he isn't here. It's not that.

I saw Dr.Ivey yesterday and I was shocked when she believed me. She said my mom was a trigger for me and this was going to be one of the harder parts of recovery. Getting back on track.

She wasn't kidding.

I struggled all day yesterday, from when I tried on my jeans in the morning and the button dug into my skin to when I had to eat dinner under everyone's watchful eye. I had to fight the urge to throw it all up after I ate it.

I did manage to sneak out for two long runs today and I feel guilty. I knew I was cheating but it was hard to stop once I started again.

Just as I reach for my phone, it buzzes on the desk, vibrating across the glass surface. I frown and check the screen, Warner's number popping up. I frantically pick up the cell, my heart hammering. 

What do I say? 

I hesitate, words coursing through my brain in overdrive. I don't know if there's any right way to start this conversation. 

I drown out my insecurities and put the receiver to my ear. I inhale a deep breath before saying, "Hello?"

A deep sigh from his end, "Hi."

"I'm glad you called." I squeak out, putting my phone on speaker and changing out of my running gear. I am nervous that he somehow knows I ran the track till I almost passed out this morning. That I haven't eaten anything yet today. That I want the jeans that don't fit to be loose again.

"Yeah?" His voice breaks a little, and my breathing deepens. I want things to go back to normal. I don't want our relationship to change, but I know it has to.

"What have you been doing over there?" I ask "Are you going to come home soon? What's it like? Have you seen any cool sights in Thunderbay? How's the court case going? Is the food any good?" All these questions tumble from my lips, and I stop for a second, wondering if I scared him away.

"It's been all right. Pretty sure the scum bag will be getting over 25 years in prison. I want to come home...I miss you." He clears his throat. "So, how are you doing? You haven't really messaged me much..."

"Is the food good?" I try again. I didn't want to have to lie to him.

"Jules," he says, pained. "You're killing me. How are you doing? That's not such a hard question to answer, is it? Just give me something."

My throat begins to close, swollen with a lump. I don't want him to spend his days worrying about me. Dr.Ivey has infiltrated my mind, and I hear her saying, "You'll ruin his progress by constantly saddling him with your own turmoil. You have to separate yourself from him, Juliet. Let him be your boyfriend, not your therapist. That's my job."

All I've ever wanted is for Warner to be happy. In order for him to be happy, he needs to stop focusing on me so he can worry about his own problems. That's what Dr. Ivey keeps telling me, right?

So I give into Dr. Ivey's advice. I let Warner off the hook. He no longer needs to be my rock. I'll have to find another one or maybe I'll be able to stand up on my own.

"Yeah," I say, my heart constricting as I restrain a wave of emotion. "I've been doing really great." Silent tears begin to brew, and they slowly streak my cheek, but I keep my voice steady so he can't tell. "I have even been accepting help from our friends."

"Really?" His voice breaks, sounding on the verge of tears.

"Yeah, really. I've never felt better." I bring the speaker away from my mouth, the lie crushing my chest.

After a long moment, he says, "Good, good. I'm glad." He inhales another sharp breath. "Okay, so I'll just leave you to it then—"

"Okay bye!" I am way too excited to hang up and I think he can tell. I can almost see him frowning at the phone.

"Bye, I love you."

I hang up not realizing I hung up without an I love you back. He said he missed me and I didn't say anything back. I was too eager to hang up and avoid him that I might have hurt his feelings.

I text him

I love you too – Juliet

______

I am zero days purge-free today.

I had to start over again today and I started over again the day before that too.

All because I decided to weigh myself. I knew I shouldn't have but after what my mom said to me it had been bothering me. I needed to know how much weight I had gained and when I saw the number, I knew I had to vomit up everything I had eaten.

Fifteen pounds.

I had gained fifteen pounds

The number on the scale alone made me feel sick.

She was right. I was turning back into Jiggly Juliet.

So I spent the whole week starving myself, purging when I could and running when everyone was asleep. I told myself it was only until I got the number back down but I knew once I started it would be hard to stop.

I was still attending therapy, I was still doing well in my classes.

I had it under control.

After a long study session with Sarah who was a much more serious study partner than Warner, I felt the need to text him before bed. I hadn't told him I missed him yet but it had been almost two weeks and I felt like I could tell him now without it being too clingy.

I miss you – Juliet

I send the text, take a sleeping pill and then close my eyes.

I'm asleep when it sinks into my consciousness that I'm not alone. I open my eyes to the darkness, fuzzy-brained and not quite out of my dream yet. It's late, after midnight. Warner is lying next to me, in exactly the spot I wish he had been every night for two weeks.

"What are you doing home?" I blink several times, waiting for him to disappear. I'm still dreaming.

"You missed me."

"You came home because I missed you?"

"Yes."

My pulse speeds up. He drove for five hours home all night in the dark. Because I told him I missed him.

Why didn't I tell him I missed him a week ago?

He sits up, leaning over me. "I missed you, too," he says and presses his lips gently to mine.

I loop my arms around his neck and tug him closer, in case he has any ideas of retreating after one kiss. He smiles against my mouth, closes his eyes, and I melt into the feel of him against me.

Into my skin, he murmurs, "I've missed you everywhere."

"Mm?"

"Here," he says as his lips brush where my heart beats, letting the ache bleed into his voice. "I've missed you here." He kisses my mouth. "And here." My fingers tunnel into his hair, and his turn to fists that burrow into the mattress, lifting his body over mine. He stares deeply into my eyes. "Here."

"I've missed you, too" I reply, the edges of my vision going gray and blurry.

His hand is warm as it passes through my hair. His eyes are so tender that my muscles involuntarily relax, fingers uncurling. "I thought you didn't miss me when you were barely texting or telling me anything." He buries his face in my throat and inhales. "I needed that text. God, I love you. Jules."

My name trembles in the air.

"I love you too," I tell him, cradling either side of his face between my hands.

______

I wake up and Warner's body is gone from the bed. I almost think I imagined him coming home until I see his jacket on my chair.

I put on one of Warner's oversized t-shirts, some sweatpants and head out to the common room where he is sitting with Adam and Abby, catching up on the couch.

I smile, just seeing him back in our dorm makes me happy. Although when his eyes catch mine instead of looking happy he does a once over of me and frowns.

Did he notice how fat I got?

"What?" I ask, my face heating up under the scrutiny. I guess he wasn't able to see me in the dark last night. He couldn't see how pudgy I have gotten.

Instead of telling me what worries him, he inches forward, the deep hurt in his eyes frightening me. What did I do wrong? I shuffle back—a reaction I hardly would have predicted for today. I nearly stumble, but his arm swoops around my waist, drawing me to his chest, and saving me from a plummet onto the floor.

His warmness snares me, and I clutch his arms, afraid to let go. He stares intensely before his gaze drifts to my arms...my hands. He peels one off his bicep, his fingers skimming over mine, stealing the breath right from my lungs. He raises my hand in between us and then lifts my elbow, giving me a good view of my arm.

My chest sinks, realizing the source of his confusion and hurt.

"What the hell, Jules?" he says.

I scratched my arm raw during my therapy session yesterday, and there is an ugly red welt that will most likely scab tomorrow. Even with gross, bitten fingernails, I managed to irritate my skin. I didn't mean to scratch so hard, but I couldn't stop as I lied straight to Dr. Ivey's face. I was lying to everyone and it made me anxious.

Warner inspects my nails, his nose flaring to hold back even more emotion.

"I'm fine. I was just...anxious yesterday. Therapy was harder...But I'm fine." I don't want to talk about this now. I want him to hold me. I want our reunion to be epic —The Notebook worthy. And my stupid anxiety and bad habit has ruined the perfect reunion I imagined. I reclaim my hand and touch his jaw, forcing him to stop focusing on my problems. "I'm okay."

The words feel a little false. I am not one-hundred percent okay.

His arms suddenly slide around my back, and he melds my body to his. His lips brush the top of my ear, sending shivers spiralling across my neck. He whispers, "I am only going to ask you this once and I need you to tell me the truth."

"Okay."

"Did anything happen when I was gone? Are you really, okay? Are you still on track? Please don't lie to me."

My mouth falls. "No. Nothing happened. I promise. You would know if it did." The lies flow off my tongue as I grip his shoulders, holding him tighter, afraid he plans to pull away and leave me.

I look over at Adam and Abby and give them an appreciative smile for them keeping their mouths shut about the bathroom incident last week. They don't know about the six or seven bathroom incidents after that.

Warner still seems tense, so I try to lighten the mood with a joke.

"Knock, knock" I pull back and grin at him

"Who's there?" he asks, pretending to look annoyed but I see the amusement in his eyes.

"Europe."

"Europe who?"

"No, I'm not." I snort out a laugh and Abby lets out a snort next to Adam.

"You are such a loser." Warner finally laughs and the smile he offers me is one I will never forget for the rest of my life.

He tugs me toward his room before I can tell another joke and Abby and Adam give me a wave goodbye. I guess I passed the test.

He shuts his door behind him locking it. "Now that I'm back here with you, just know I am never leaving without you again."

"I don't want you to." I smile.

"It's cute that you think you have a choice." 

"Now tell me again. Please." Eyes joined in a poignant clutch, I already know what he's asking for. I know exactly what he wants to hear, and I say the words without hesitation, without a single second thought. "I love you and I missed you" I whisper against his lips.

Warner crushes his mouth to mine, as if he's trying to inhale those words, suck them down, so they live inside of him forever—so he's never without them again. My hips buck up to meet his, just a bit, our tongues moving in time with languid strokes. I feel the sparks igniting in my core, begging to burst.

___

An hour later, Warner has me bent over his desk, pounding into me from behind as my fingernails scratch along the wood. He tugs my hair back, twisting my face to his, and I chant his name against his lips—I know it drives him wild.

He snakes his hand around my middle, sliding it down my stomach until it reaches its destination between my legs. With my sweatpants around my ankles, I arch into his touch, moaning when his fingers find my clit. "Oh, God..."

Warner works me into a frenzy, trailing his lips from mine and attacking my throat with his tongue. "You're always so wet. I fucking love it."

I gasp out loud, already edging towards release as I press myself against the desk. Warner sweeps his fingers up the nape of my neck, collecting my long hair between them and squeezing his fist, ramming into me harder, while still fingering me with his other hand.

Holy, holy, holy crap.

"Come for me," he demands, leaning forward on top of me, his chest to my back, thrusting his hips with impossible intensity. My inner walls tense around him. Closing around it in an early warning system. He grits his teeth and continues fucking his way in and out of me as if it were his life's mission

I shatter.

I dig my nails into the kitchen table, surely leaving marks, as my body convulses around him, a cry escaping my lips.

Warner whispers against my ear as I come down, brushing my hair aside and slowing his pace, "That's my girl."

I'm hardly recovered when he pulls out of me and spins me around, lifting me onto the desk and settling between my legs. He kisses me as he pushes back inside, hands planted on either side of me as I link my ankles behind his back.

He is thrusting wildly, and all I can do is curl my fingers around the edge of the desk and hang on tight. I already feel the pressure building again when he breaks the kiss to hold my eyes.

God, his eyes. They will be my undoing.

I look away, the feelings swirling inside me proving too much. Too intimate, too powerful, too real.

I lied to him. I've been lying to him since he got back. When he looks at me like this the guilt overpowers me and I can no longer look at him.

Warner pinches my chin between his thumb and finger, gently turning my face back towards him. "Why can't you look at me, Jules?" He's still moving inside me, but not as hard. Not as fast. His strokes are languid and deliberate, almost like he's trying to tell me something

But the last thing I want to do is talk about my relapse when he's balls deep inside of me, so I clasp his face between my palms and crash our mouths back together. I push my tongue between his lips and he lets me in, his hips moving quicker when our tongues begin to dance. 

When he finishes, we stay pressed against each other, him holding me into his chest like he doesn't want to let go. I don't want him to. I want to soak up every moment with him until he finds out what a failure I am. When he finds out I have been lying to him every time I say I'm okay.

"I missed you so much, Jules. I'm not sure what I did right in my life to deserve your love, but I'll stop at nothing to protect it." His lips find mine and he softly kisses me.

"Warner," I try, fear prickling my nerves. I should tell him about my relapse.

"I am so proud of you. You have come so far and I'm just so proud to be your boyfriend." He presses another kiss to my lips and my throat closes up.

I almost choke on a breath, my wrists linking behind his neck, trying to pull him closer to me so he can't see my face.

I can't tell him

______

The ensuing weeks are a blur. I put my brain in autopilot mode to get through school without a breakdown, slapping an overly forced smile onto my face. My friends are restless and distracted with Easter Break quickly approaching, which works in my favour because I don't think they notice the dark circles under my eyes and my hands that are constantly shaking.

I am zero days purge-free today.

I make my way through the school parking lot, releasing a long breath when I hop inside of Warner's car which I have taken over while he has been away at the soccer semi-finals. My fingers clench around the steering wheel as the tension I've been holding onto all day—the façade— begins to dissolve.

It's just me and my emotional demons now.

It's like I am walking around with this gaping wound in my chest and it seems impossible that no one else can see it. Every time they pretend not to, I want to scream.

I want my friends to notice that I'm not okay.

I have barely seen Warner since he has been away for soccer. I didn't go to the game because I couldn't miss class and was no longer on the cheer team. But I got to watch on Instagram as all my friends went on a road trip up north for the game. I watched Amy and Abby cheer Adam and Warner along. They won the game and came back last night to celebrate.

I wanted to celebrate but I went to bed early instead, exhausted from the lack of food I ate and the 10-mile run I went on yesterday.

I pull into the parking lot of the dorm, planning on crawling into my bed to die there for a bit but I'm stopped short when I get inside and Abby and Amy are standing in the dorm common room smiling at me and holding a cheer uniform.

"Juliet!" Abby cheers and wraps me up in a hug.

"Yes?" I ask, confused.

"Welcome back to the cheer team! Just in time for the finals!" Amy smiles at me and hands me a new cheer uniform.

I should feel joy but all I feel is guilt. I didn't earn this uniform back. I wasn't better. But as long as I smiled at the right time and said the right thing they would think so.

"Wow! Yay I'm excited to be back." I offer the best smile I can and give Amy a hug.

"We are just all so proud of you! 40 whole days into your recovery. You are so amazing!" Abby looks like she might tear up and I want to die from shame.

"Thank you. I couldn't do it without you guys."

After Amy leaves I head to my room. Once I close the door behind me I cup my hand around my mouth as a small cry breaks out, my eyes squeezing out hot tears. My strangled breaths echos throughout the room, as I wish I could stop the shame I feel. The embarrassment of failing.

I'm in too deep with the lies, I am starting to drown in them.

I collapse onto my floor, a panic attack creeping into my lungs and taking over. I sob hysterically, manically, ashamed and astounded by the damage I've caused myself. I'm a broken pile of bones and failure, crumpled on the ground, wanting to die.

All those weeks fighting so hard in recovery, and for what?

I stare up at the ceiling fan spinning in circles above me.

I try to catch my breath, choking on ugly hiccups as I wipe at my nose and rise to unsteady feet. I rummage through my drawers and reach for my sleeping pills. I snap the door shut, gazing at my reflection, feeling totally numb. My eyes are red and swollen, my nose puffy.

I take a pill since it's the only way I can sleep to stop the obsessive thoughts. I pace backwards until I reach the bed, collapsing onto it as the pain comes spewing out. I draw my legs up to my chest, burying my face between my knees. Sobs pour out of me in waves and my ribs start to ache.

I don't know how much longer I can lie to everyone that I am okay.

Sorry this is depressing but recovery isn't linear!!!

thanks for the votes and comments :)