Pretending (Westshore Series #1)

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Liar

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."