Status: Bipolar updates- sorry! Trying my best to keep it coming~

I Keep on Running

013:

The sound of a drawer rolling and slamming back into place startles me awake from my night of terrible sleep. I glance at the cable box, squinting to see what time it had been. The orange numbers read to me 7:52 AM. I sigh, wrenching my eyes shut and rolling back onto my side as I try to drown out whatever it was that Jorel was doing. He continues to open and close his drawers, finding whatever clothes he needed before he would throw them into one of his suitcases. Hearing him pace, he hurriedly makes his way to our closet, tossing the door open and having it smash against the wall. I groan loudly; after being up all night not feeling well and being woken by him being noisy really annoyed me. I hear him curse under his breath, and make his way over to me. His lips touch my cheek. “I'm sorry, babe,” he whispers, turning back to his suitcase. “I didn't mean to wake you.”
“Yup,” I mumble, rolling onto my back again.
He glances over at me, “Are you feeling okay this morning?”
I breathe in deeply, yawning. “Yeah,” I say, half breathing out still due to my yawn, “I'm feeling okay.”

The past two weeks have been dreadful. I caught some sort of flu, throwing up after almost every meal. It was just plain awful; I couldn't hold anything down besides crackers and some orange juice, which J was making me eat no matter how much I would protest since I always felt like it'd come back up. He was afraid that I was relapsing, constantly accusing me that since I was anorexic and now eating, that I was suddenly turning to bulimia. It hurt having him not believe me no matter what I said- but I guess I couldn't blame him. How often does one throw up after each meal or for no reason at all?

I forced myself to sit up in bed, resting against the pillow. I was so exhausted; all I wanted to do was to be able to eat and sleep. I watched J as he continued to sloppily fold and throw his clothes inside his case, shaking my head at his awful folding job. I muscle myself out of bed, slowly making my way over to him. He looks at me and shakes his head, “Go back in bed, you need to rest.”
I mock him, tilting my head. “No, you need to rest. You've been getting up so early to pack and I have no idea why,” I take a pair of his jeans back out, shaking them loose, “Not to mention, you suck at packing.”
I picture him rolling his eyes as he snatches his pants back, “I managed to pack myself before you came along just fine. You're sick, please go back to bed. I'll get you some crackers and OJ.”
I frown, sauntering back to my spot on the bed, sitting at the edge. “But J, I don't want crackers and OJ anymore. I'm so hungry.”
“Well,” he retorts as he continues to fold clothes, “Maybe if you would-”
Don't say it, Jorel. I am sick,” I snap, tired of his stupid fucking excuse.
“You may be right, but I still don't believe you,” he then throws his suitcase closed, zipping it up and tossing it onto the floor with anger.

My throat swells up as I fight the best of my ability to not have any tears well up in my eyes. He has no idea how much his words hurt, having him not believe me for a second. “Jorel, please. I just want some fo-” I slap my hand over my mouth as it starts to water.
My stomach starts to churn when I stand up quickly to make it to the bathroom in time. I dashed in there, throwing myself on my knees and held onto the toilet bowl, heaving up my already empty stomach inside. It burned, it really did. I wasn't throwing anything up besides juice and stomach acid. I lean back, sitting on my feet as I take a breather, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “God,” I groan, “This is awful...”
I let my cries come out now, finally letting my frustration get to me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't keep anything in my belly to feed myself and it was starting to take a toll on me. There was nothing worse than being a recovering anorexic, eating and not being able to keep food down when you actually wanted to. It was taking a toll on J as well, seeing as he stubbornly wanted to believe that I'm doing this on purpose. The more I sat here a wailed, the more I got nauseous- and up came the second round of bile. I threw my head forward, dry-heaving for a moment or two before it all came rushing out.

I hear a long sigh from behind as a hand is placed on my trembling back, soothing the tense muscles. “I'm sorry Payton, I don't know what's got me accusing you of being bulimic. It's not right,” he kneels down next to me, running a hand down my hair. “If it doesn't get better in a few days when I leave, please do us both a favor and go to the doctor to see what's going on. I don't want to see my baby sick anymore.”
His hand guides my head into his chest as he continues to caress my hair. I quietly whimper; my stomach was absolutely killing me from both hunger and throwing up.
“Can you do that for me?” he asks softly.
I nod against his chest, breathing in that calming nicotine-axe scent that always radiated off of him. I grin, pulling my head up to look at him. I attempt to get up, but he stops me. I go to question him, but he tucks his left arm underneath my legs, the right one under my back. I feel him roll onto his feet, bringing my limp body towards his chest as he stands. He smiles down at me as he lifted me back into our bedroom. There, he rests me gently onto the mattress, blanketing me. “Thank you,” I whisper.
He nods his head, “I'm going to get you some OJ and saltines, now.”
I sigh, closing my eyes. “Fine- anything to get in my belly.”

-+-+-+-

The rain pelting the roof of the car fills the quiet cab- neither J nor I spoke to each other as we sat in this silence. It was pouring out; the droplets so vicious to the point where it sounded like someone had dumped a whole bag of pennies on top of our Mercedes. I glance to the left, watching two drops trail down the window. I mentally cheered for the one on the right, hoping it would win the little race to the bottom of the panel as it passed by and absorbed all the tiny specks in its path. I remember doing this when I was a kid, never really speaking to anyone on the school bus in the morning. The droplet on the left speeds up suddenly, finding a clear path on the glass, meaning there were no specks in the way to slow it down. I watched it reach the bottom first, rolling my eyes. I shook my head- what am I doing?

I hear Jorel sigh next to me as I watched Matt run by our car, holding a folder or something over his head to avoid the rain. He spots us in the car, never slowing down, and waves us on. “C'mon, let's go!” I hear his muffled voice trail off.

Oh, right. I was saying goodbye to Jorel.

I turn my head to look at him, saddened. I haven't been able to say anything this entire car ride, because I knew as soon as I said something, I was going to burst into tears and beg him not to go. This was the first time since I had our baby that he was going out on tour- how was I supposed to make it these next six weeks? I felt lost, and he wasn't even gone yet. “Please don't look at me like that,” he pleads quietly.
“Like what?” I mumble, my voice already starting to break.
He closes his eyes and shakes his head, “You know what I mean,” his eyes open again, “Your eyes- they look so sad. You haven't cracked me a single smile today, and when you try, it just breaks my heart. Please try to be happy while I'm gone; I'm not dying or anything.”
“I'm still not feeling well, Jorel,” I half lie considering I had been throwing up still, “That's why I'm not smiling...” I trailed off.
I place my forehead on the steering wheel in front of me, avoiding his gaze. The all-too-familiar pressure behind my eyes greets me again as they start to fill with tears. I'm not dying or anything.
“Payton, look at me. Please don't cry now.”
I shake my head, still pressed to the steering wheel, I close my eyes. A long stream of tears flows from them.
“No,” he whispers, “No, no, no. C'mon, please don't make this harder on me. I feel bad enough leaving, but having you cry right in front of me is definitely killing me.”
I sob once, “Jorel, please don't go!” Just as I knew I would, I did start to cry once I opened my mouth. To me, this just seemed like it was too much to deal with right now, even if I was on the right track to becoming “happy” again.
He sighs lightly, pulling the door handle to let himself out. I felt my heart drop as I thought about him just getting up and leaving abruptly- but the panic washes away when he opens my door from the outside. He holds his hands out, which I instinctively take into my own. He pulls me out of my seat, bringing me right to his chest, letting go of my hands. They reach my hips, lifting me up- my legs go around his waist, tightening my hold has he holds me from my lower back. I cling onto him by wrapping my arms around his neck. I had no idea what he was doing, but I felt completely comfortable in his arms like this.

“J, we're going to get soaked if we stay like this for any longer.”
“I don't really care,” he chuckles. “All I really care about is making sure you're going to be alright, even if it means holding you this close in the pouring rain for hours.” I watch his eyes soften right in front of me as he says this- I knew that he meant it.
I knew that I was going to miss moments like these where nothing else in the world mattered but each other. I was going to miss his passionate and comforting touch whenever I was sad and needed his love to make things seem right again. I was going to miss waking up to these beautiful brown eyes, and a sheepish smile in the morning as he holds me closer whenever he woke up. I knew that I was going to miss him way too much, and that there was no way I was going to survive this without him.
“I promise, Payton, that I will make this up to you the day you fly into Chicago. I'm going to pick you up, and we're going to have the time of our lives. I can assure you of that.”
A small smile reaches its way back onto my face as I think about reuniting with him. “I can't wait for that day. I already miss you, and you're not even gone,” my smile falls, “But what am I supposed to do while you're gone?” I couldn't stop asking him this question; wrapping my head around an answer was nearly impossible.
“You'll be just fine. I'm going to call you every night, I'll text you whenever I can. You're just going to have to spend time with Theresa for a while, okay?” he gives me a sympathetic grin, nodding at me to make sure I understood.
I bob my head lightly in return, trying to accept it inside my head that I was going to be just fine. “Okay, I'll try my best to stay happy.”
“Fantastic,” he whispers, immediately capturing my lips with his.

At that moment, everything was perfectly fine. I was here in Jorel's arms, feeling warmer than ever, even though we were sitting here in the pouring rain. It didn't matter to either of us; what mattered, was making sure we were ending this on a good note. He breaks away, resting his forehead on mine, gazing those brown orbs into my blue ones. My lips curl in a tiny smile- I knew everything was going to be okay.

I let my legs loosen their grasp around his waist, dropping back down to the pavement. He then lets me go, moving me aside so he could pop the trunk. From there, he made his way to grab his luggage that I voluntarily assisted him with, grabbing the smaller of the three suitcases. I shut the trunk with my free hand, trailing after him to his new mobile home for the next six weeks. We carry it on board, dropping it by his bunk. Just then, the bus started up, and I knew it was my time to leave. I glance over at him; his attention to the guys- I knew better than to interrupt. I began walking back, making it to the steps before I felt my arm get tugged from behind. I spin around, facing Jorel's apologetic face. His lips touch my forehead, my nose, my cheeks and finally my lips. “I'm sorry,” he whispers against them. “I'll see you in three weeks. Please be good. Don't forget to check in with your doctor.”
“I will,” I quietly respond, kissing his lips once more.
“I love you so much Payton, please don't forget that.”
I shake my head, “I won't. I love you more than anything, Jorel. I'll see you soon.”
He gives me a heartwarming smile, rubbing my arm as he lets me make my way off the bus.

-+-+-+-

I sank all the way under the warm water, completely submerging my frozen, nude body. I let out the only breath that I had left in my lungs, trying to relax while my skin vibrated as it got used to the warmth again. I watched as the air drifted towards the surface in bubbles, hearing each of them pop individually and disappear. There was just something about being underwater that made things seem better; it seemed to calm the atmosphere. It was better than being in the real world- here, no one could bother you and you could simply let your mind roam for a little while. My chest began knocking as it begged for air- I pushed myself out of the water with my legs, gasping once for oxygen. I held my breath for a moment. It was so silent here; no televisions were on, no radios, not even a single hum that the house tended to give off every once in a while when something kicked on. The only sound that was audible was my heartbeat echoing through my ears. I never realized how quiet it actually was without Jorel around- the house was lifeless; depressing.

I grabbed the bath soap from behind my left shoulder, turning the faucet on once more as I poured some soap in it's path to get it going. The rainbow orbs grew larger and multiplied by the dozens as the seconds ticked on by- soon enough, they reached the top of my breasts. I leaned over to shut the faucet off, sitting back against the tub to relax once more. I found myself scooping the soap up, running them over my scars, caressing each and every inch of skin that was risen. A frown finds its way on my lips as I think about each story that they hold and just how much I missed digging into my skin. At this very moment, I could feel the missing hole in my life. I could hear the demons screaming at me again, mocking me for Jorel leaving. My eyebrows scrunched together as my lips quivered- I felt so weak. I felt so lonely and unwanted and I craved the remedies to fix that- but I had made a promise with Jorel; I had to be good. I couldn't harm myself by cutting or starving.

My eyes advert to the biggest scar I had; the one across my abdomen. I had no idea what always possessed me to look at the most painful thing on my body, but I always did while I was taking a bath. I reach over to the scar, hesitating. I wanted to be able to make it through these next few weeks without being triggered- but already, I was failing my promise. My anxiety was closing in on me, tightening my chest around my lungs so that breathing was becoming harder; I hadn't even touched the scar and I was starting to hyperventilate. I gasped, choking when I couldn't get any air inside my lungs. My body went tense and started to tremble as I concentrated more on the fact that I couldn't breathe. I panicked; I threw my arms out of the tub, splashing water all over my bathroom floor as I tried to grab onto anything that would pull me out of the water. Nothing was in arms reach- I was crying now, frustrated with the fact that nothing was going right for me at the moment. Tears were streaming down my face as I dragged myself out of the tub, sobbing and reaching for my towel. I stumbled once I grabbed it, pulling it off the rack and onto the floor with my shaking body. I had no idea why the anxiety was so bad this time- it may have been due to the fact that I was alone. All alone. With no one to run to for comfort, with no razors to fall back on. My wails got louder as the thought completely submerged me. I felt as if I were drowning in my sorrow, choking on my sobs instead of water.

Having not done it all day, with no warning at all, my stomach flipped and I was dry-heaving right there on my floor. I had no control over my body or my actions; I felt completely helpless. I didn't want to throw up on the floor and have to clean it up later, so I managed to crawl towards my toilet, barely making it in time. My chin hit the seat, vomit spewing out of my mouth and into the bowl. I coughed harshly, gagging on the taste that was left there, which was making me even more nauseous than before. I place my hand at the base of my throat, holding my breath, somehow hoping that would make it so I wouldn't throw up again. I choked again as it came back up a second time, barely making it into the bowl in time. “God dammit,” I breathed out, wiping my mouth as I laid my head on the seat. “Why? Jorel, why did you have to leave?” I yelled out, starting to cry again as I thought all over again just how alone I really was. My chest shakes with each tiny sob that broke out of my mouth, my eyes never ceasing to leak.
I sit up, shaking my head to get the thought out- it wasn't going anywhere. Slowly, I grabbed the top of toilet, pulling my weak body into standing position. I knew this had to stop. Wiping under my eyes, I flushed the toilet before sauntering over to the sink to wash my face off. I ran the water cold before cupping my hands under the faucet, throwing the coolness over my face. A shiver ran down my spine as my body reset and calmed down just a tad. I ran the water over my face again, cleaning off the puke and whatever else I had on my face. When I looked at myself in the mirror, all I saw was a sickly skinny girl looking me in the eye, with her collarbones protruding. Her cheekbones were sunken in and she was as pale as the walls behind her. My vision became blurry as my eyes filled up with tears again, spilling over my cheeks. I was disgusted with myself.

I knew of one place that Jorel hadn't known of where my razors were.

I stumbled back into the bedroom, throwing the pillow aside to reach behind inside the cubby- my hand grasps onto the tiny box that I knew was always out of sight. A grin twitched onto my face as I opened it, being greeted with the cool, shiny piece of metal hidden inside of it. I picked it out of it's spot, placing the box back into the cubby. I sat down on the edge of the bed, twirling the blade in my fingers, contemplating whether or not I should do this. I needed a release, especially when Jorel wasn't around...

I dug the blade into my skin and drew back slowly, a thin, crimson line accumulating afterwords. My body relaxes, a sudden sense of warmth burning through me. My arms go limp and the blade slips out of my hand and onto the floor. I feel the crimson warmth trickle down the palm of my hand and down my fingertips, dripping onto the floor with a nearly silent splatter. “I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry... I just wish you had been here...”

I hear my phone buzz on the top of the cubby beside me. I pick it up, reading across the screen from Jorel:
'Hey babe, how are you doin?'
♠ ♠ ♠
This chapter was pretty dramatic towards the end, I apologize, but what's recovery without a relapse?
Thanks for the comments and whatnot! Keep them coming!!! <3 <3