Drop Dead | Sam Fender

Chapter Fifty Two

TRIGGER WARNING: EATING DISORDER

Aurora

"Sam? What're ya doing here?" I frowned as I swung the front door open to find my very serious-looking boyfriend.

"We need to talk," he replied, his eyes full of conflict.

"Uhh, alreet," I muttered nervously, stepping aside to let him in. "What's this about?"

"I'm gan ask you one last time. What's gan on with ya lately?" he questioned, cutting right to the chase as we moved to the living room. I took a seat on one of the sofas, half-expecting him to do the same, but he remained standing with one arm across his torso and the other holding his face, which held a grave look.

"Gan on with me?" I inquired. "There's nowt gan on with me."

I watched as he inhaled sharply and closed his eyes for a brief second. "Ya know, I didn't think anything of it at first," he laughed humourlessly, resting his hands on the back of the sofa adjacent to the one I was sitting on.

"Think anything of what?" I asked. "Sam, you're really not making any sense."

"I'm gan ask you sommat and I want you to be honest with me," he began, pausing to take a breath before continuing. "Are you making yourself sick?"

"Making myself sick?" I frowned, desperately trying to keep a straight face but internally I was panicking. My heart was pounding in my rib cage and the acid from my stomach was threatening to make its way up. Ironic really.

"Please stop pretending ya don't know what I'm on about," he smiled weakly, tears glistening in his eyes. "Yes, making yourself sick."

"Why would I do that?" I muttered nonchalantly.

"Ya've been acting different for months now, Aurora," he spoke plainly, pushing off the sofa and walking around to sit on it, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at me. "This running that ya've taken up-"

"Is entirely normal," I interjected.

"Not when you're sacrificing your sleep for it!" he said frustratedly. "If it was entirely normal, don't ya think you would've told us? No. You didn't want me to know for some reason."

"I just... didn't think it was that big a deal. It's something I do for fun, Sam, it's not like I'm fuckin' hurting myself!" I hissed.

"But you are!" he yelled in frustration. "What you're doing is harming yourself!"

"And what is it that I'm doing?" I asked quietly as I gritted my teeth to bite down on the anger that flooded my body.

"Running yourself into the ground with overexercising? Skipping meals? Throwing up the ones you do eat?" he scoffed.

"But I'm not!" I told him, wishing desperately that he would believe me.

"The signs are all there, Aurora," he sighed. He pushed himself off the sofa and strode over to me, crouching down in front of me and taking my hand in his. I only watched him with caution, like a caged animal ready to attack at any sign of danger. "The amount of weight you've lost ain't healthy-"

"Wow, make a lass feel good about herself," I laughed bitterly, turning my head away from him.

"And this," he spoke firmly, turning my hand over to show the old scars and fresh cuts on my knuckles. Immediately, I tore my hand away from him as though his touch burned, hiding it in my lap.

"I think you'd better leave, Sam," I said emotionlessly, not bothering to face him to witness his reaction.

"I'm just trying to look oot for ya," he whispered softly. When I didn't respond, he took this as an opportunity to continue. "We're gan get through this, I promise. I'm not gan give up on ya. Ever... I love you."

He stood up and with a gentle kiss against my hair, he walked out the door, leaving me with silent streams of tears running down my face.

"Fuck!" I cursed, resting my face in my hands as the sobs wrecked my body.

Sam

That didn't go as planned, I thought to myself. Maybe I was a bit too harsh. No, I said what needed to be said. You didn't have to be such a cunt about it though, Sam, I thought.

"Fuck!" I swore, running a hand over my face. I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings when I smacked into a lamppost.

"Sam?" Okay, maybe it wasn't a lamppost. "Everything alreet, kid? Ya look a little... stressed."

"Uh..." I was at a loss for words as Jamie's warm brown eyes stared back at me.

He took one glance over me, most likely inspecting for any injuries. I suppose I had been in my fair share of fights. His lips drew into a tight line and he let out a sigh, "C'mon. Let's go for a walk." I didn't argue as he turned on the balls of his feet and wrapped an arm around my shoulders to guide me in the direction I was heading. I don't think I could have formed the words anyway. My thoughts were spiralling. It was quite dizzying. "What's happened?"

"What's happened?" I frowned.

"Don't give me that, Sam, lad," he snorted lightly. "Ya look like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders. It's not your mam isi? 'Cause if there's anything I can do to help-"

"It's not that," I interjected, pausing for a moment as I trawled over the thought of telling Jamie. "It's Rory, actually."

"Oh," he mumbled. "Ya've not broken up again have ya?"

"No, no!"

"Reet," he breathed in relief. "I'm sorry, I'll stop jumping to conclusions."

We carried on walking for several moments in silence as I mustered up the courage to tell him, thinking carefully as to how I would word it.

"I think Rory's got an eating disorder," I blurted out.

"What?" he laughed. "Rory? I think you've got the wrong person, kid."

"I'm serious, Jamie," I frowned, halting in my step.

"Are we talking about the same person here?" he snorted. "Rory loves her food, I see her eating all the time! I think you're just being paranoid."

"Reet," I muttered as I internally started brainstorming a plan B.  It was like talking to a brick wall. It was evident that I wasn't going to get anywhere with Jamie, I was just going to have to handle this myself.