sarah paulson mental health one shots

numbers [continued]

cordelia goode - numbers [continued]
content warning : anorexia, calorie counting, body dysmorphia, food rules, specific number mentions
authors note : requested part two!

-

cordelia didn't know what she was going to do, but just as expected, you had almost immediately fallen asleep in her arms. she stroked your head and then lifted you up, carrying you to your bed.

"it's all gonna be alright." she whispered, not knowing if she was trying to convince you or herself.

as she walked out of the room, she picked up your diary from the floor. once she returned to her office, she sat down at her desk and opened the book. every page was scattered with numbers. weights, dates and calories, all down to the last detail. 825, 729, 516, the low numbers continued like a pattern, with the weight dropping every day.

"oh y/n." she muttered to herself.

-

the next day you woke up and immediately remembered the events from the night before. the pizza. you rushed out of bed and changed into exercise attire. it started with one hundred sit ups, then one hundred squats. you were weak from malnourishment and could barely catch your breath.

'just one more rep.' you told yourself.

the last thing you remember was hitting ninety eight sit ups for the third time, and then nothing but darkness.

-

"y/n? sweetie?" cordelia was stroking your head with her thumb.

"what happened?" you sat up.

"y/n, lie down." cordelia said softly and motioned for the other people in the room to leave.

"i'm fine."

"sweetheart, you're not. you passed out this morning."

"i just stood up too fast. i'll be fine."

she reached over to the nightstand beside you and picked up a book. your journal.

"why do you have that?" you grabbed it from her hands.

"i saw what's in it." she admitted.

"so now you're going through my stuff?"

"no, it's not like that."

"then what's it like?"

"you were so upset last night, and it had something to do with the book. so, i read it. and quite honestly, i'm glad i did because you need help y/n."

"i do not."

"sweetheart."

she reached to stroke your cheek and you pulled away, making her jump.

"stop."

"i know it's hard, but you need to let me help you."

"stop it!"

"y/n, please. you're sick. you barely eat enough to survive and i'm worried for you."

"i'm fine." you stood up to leave.

"y/n sit your ass down right now." cordelia said, still holding a soft tone to accompany her harsh words.

"you're not my mother! just leave me alone!"

"y/n sit down or so help me god i will chain you to this bed."

"why? so you can tell me how sick i am, or how i need to get better? i know that already, i'm exhausted. but this isn't something that you can just fix cordelia."

"i know, that's why i'm here. i want to help you."

"i don't want help. i'm scared, i'm not ready."

"it's okay to be scared, but i need you to try."

"i don't want to."

"i know baby, but you have to."

you ignored her.

"move over."

you obliged and moved over, flopping onto your side instead of your back. cordelia climbed into the bed next to you spooned you. her fingers ran through your thin y/h/c hair.

"why?" you rasped out after a few minutes of her stroking your head.

"why what darling?" her hand paused.

"do i have to get better." you choked out, trying to hold back tears.

"because if you keep going like this you're going to die. and i can't live without you. and neither can zoe, or myrtle, or any of us. so i need you to try, okay?"

you ignored her, not wanting to promise her something you couldn't fulfill.

"okay?" she repeated.

"i don't know."

she sighed in defeat, knowing you weren't going to agree with her. she knew the next months would be filled with doctors, therapists, screaming matches and crying fits, but if it meant you were getting better, she could tolerate it.