𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞 | ✔

sɪxᴛʏ ғᴏᴜʀ

sometimes I genuinely can't comprehend this man. ugh. anyways enjoyyyy <3 and vote&comment if u wanna

༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

without further adieu, I present to you the next chapter...

DEVI BHATT

Four days later I'm back holding the edge of the toilet bowl.

I gasp for air. "Fucks sa–"

I can see the enzymes in my vomit as I regurgitate every bit of my dinner. I can literally see the sweetcorn from the pizza Nashwa made. It was such a nice pizza.

And my back fucking burns. My scars are extra sensitive tonight.

"Don't talk," Grisha ushers, rubbing my back once again. He tied my hair up using my hair tie very badly, but it's the thought that counts. "You're coming back into my bed. Stop trying to do this shit alone, baby."

Honestly? These bad dreams occur so much that I don't know how to feel any more. I'm crying without the tight feeling suffocating my throat. I'm breathing faster and faster without anxiety clawing at my insides. My heart is racing without my thoughts scattering.

I feel myself fall away piece by piece.

But when I lock eyes with him, something revives me– my emotions.

Maybe it's my unconscious mind begging for his attention. Maybe I'm not really traumatised. Maybe I'm just a really fucking normal person and I love to be dramatic. Maybe I'm histrionic. Maybe I just love the feeling of him being concerned and caring for me.

All these maybes. Hypotheticals.

But there isn't one solid belief inside me.

What if I really am attention-seeking?

Pushing his hand off of me, I say, "I'm fine, you–" I throw up one last time, " –you can–"

He pulls my dirty chin to his. "If you tell me to fucking go, I will–"

"Go," I say, my stomach heaving more food out, all over his hands.

"Fucks sake, Devi," he says as he washes his hands quickly before returning to me, "stop pushing me away."

But I'm attention-seeking. My emotions are turned off until you're in my radius. You don't want an attention seeker.

Then he quickly adds, "And no more sweetcorn for dinner."

My gaze shoots to him and suddenly I feel even more guilty for letting him stay with me during this disgusting scene.

He quickly corrects himself. "I was kidding, baby."

"Are you sure?" I blubber, on the verge of crying more. And I do. I'm crying even more when I say, "So I'm still allowed sweetcorn?"

"Of course," he says, cocking his head. "I had no idea you loved sweetcorn so much."

Looking at him with tears streaming down my face, I say, "I don't."

He covers his mouth with his hand making me frown. I see a smile peeking through his fingers.

"Hey, don't laugh!"

"I'm not," he lies.

"Liar," I scowl.

My legs shake as I stretch my arm out to get a wad of toilet roll. Grisha grabs it first and wipes my mouth very slowly. It feels nice. Then he gets another chunk of tissues and wets it with warm water before using it to wipe my mouth.