All for Her

My windshield wipers pushed the rain droplets out of my sight. This is what I savored. A car ride at midnight in the rain. The smell of rain was seeping through the exterior of my car and I inhaled deeply. Blissfully, I continued my way down Main Street and 16th when I saw her, sitting on the Barbra Whilther wooden bench in the middle of the Park.

"Oh crap!" I quickly pulled over, climbed out of the car and slowly approached my drenched former best friend.

"Jane?" I stopped a good foot away from where she sat.

"Adam? Could it be my knight in shining armor?" she looked up at me, acid dripping from her voice even more so then the rain off her face.

"What the hell?" I rushed over after confirming her sanity. Pulling off my coat, I enveloped her in the warm cotton, but her narrow shoulders did nothing to hold it in place. I filled my arms with Jane's soaking body and made my way back to the car. Gently placing her in the passenger side door, she was already sleeping. I slid into the driver's seat, debating what to do. From the bruises I saw on her face I couldn't take her home so I put the car in drive and headed to my house with the love of my life dozing in the seat next to me.

The next morning, I awoke on the couch confused. Suddenly, events from the night before came flooding back. I glanced back at my bedroom door to find it open with Jane sleeping soundly on my bed. Pressing my forefingers to my temples, I couldn't decide what to do, I didn't want to wake her because she needed the sleep. I rose slowly from the couch to prevent the blood from rushing up to my head, I rubbed my eyes and walked over to the fridge to collect some eggs and get breakfast going. From what I could see of Jane last night I knew that she was too thin...again. Soon the smell of eggs and bacon filled the house and I heard tiny foot steps coming from my room. Dressed in one of my t-shirts that I must have laid out for her last night, Jane slowly made her way into the kitchen. Even with her hair matting from the rain last night and the smeared makeup, Jane still managed to be the beautiful girl that I remembered from high school.

The t-shirt covered her modestly, but even through the fabric I could tell that if I was to put my hands around her waist, my fingers would touch on both sides. She was falling back into her vicious cycle again and it scared me. At least the bruises on her face were slightly fading. She was in rough shape and I knew why.

Jane was beautiful and trusting. Her trust was so freely given that her heart has been broken too many times to count. Guys from high school would come into her life, walk all over her, and then waltz right out of it again leaving Jane ripped to pieces in the process. Thinking that it was her fault Jane became very insecure, not believing that she was beautiful. It didn't help that she had an abusive father. The only reason I found this out was because I had driven up for a night of studying with Jane and saw him through the window. I froze. I knew I couldn't come inside, but something inside stopped me from driving away. I was frozen to the window. For ten more minutes this continued and after it was done I rang the doorbell. She needed me. We didn't study that evening. The night was full of tears, apologies and most of all silence as I treated her wounds.

It was a week after that when I started to noticed that she was thinning down. For the first month she seemed somewhat happy of her accomplishment from the weight loss. For months I was pushed out of her life by boyfriends, friends and Jane herself. When I would see her in the halls, she appeared sickly and extremely thin. One day she didn't show up at school at all. The first couple days I was concerned, but after a week of her being MIA I was sick with dread. I drove up to her house that night and banged on the door. No one answered, but I saw Jane's bedroom light on. I ran my finger tips carefully over the door frame searching for the spare key. My hand closed around it and I rapidly pushed it in the lock and opened the door. I ran upstairs and realized that I would probably scare Jane if I just barged though so I stopped at her door and slowly, silently pushed the door open. A gasp of shock racked my body and I felt my knees give way. The thing that was in the bed was Jane without a doubt, but she looked deathly sick. It was a wonder that the blanket that covered her didn't crush her, she was so thin. Beside her bed was a bucket full of vomit.

My mind finally pieced two and two together and the startling truth came shooting up to the surface in my head. Jane was making herself sick again. I should have noticed when she was thinning out and the paleness about her face, but I must have just pushed away all possibilities that she could be harming herself. I was shocked that she hadn't made some sort of snide comment or started yelling but I thought too soon when she finally spotted me in the doorway.

"What are you doing her-" her raspy shout was interrupted by a violent fit of coughs and slight gagging. "Get out!"

"No." I didn't yell. I wasn't even mad. More...defeated.

"What?" she seemed startled, like I didn't do what she had expected. She studied me for another moment then fell back on her pillow.

I cautiously took another step forward and when it brought no protest another two. In moments I was at her side.

"Jane?" she didn't even look at me. "Why?"

She didn't answer that either. Minutes passed, her breathing softened and even though I couldn't see her face, I knew that she had gone to sleep. "Good, she needs it," I mumbled to myself. Sitting back on my heels, I scanned her room. It was an utter mess and a disdainful smell was coming from the bucket of vomit sitting next to me. That needed to go. An hour passed and I emptied the vomit bucket, tidied her room, and was about to go make some sort of snack to see what she good get down when Jane woke up.

"You're still here?" it was a question, a hopeful question.

"Of course! Where else would I go?"

"I'm not sure, but you aren't the first person to come here," I could hear the grimace in her soft voice. Her voice...one of the things I loved most about her was the tinkling tone to her vibrant voice. That sound was dead, flat, lifeless and sounded painful to get out now.

"Are you hungry?" I asked weakly. The look on Jane's face was one of internal conflict, first it was relief, but then a discipline kicked in somewhere. Back and forth, it looked like a game of tug-a-war in her mind. After a few minutes of silence, she settled for a shrug, the whole moment brought a visible jolt of pain to her. Afraid to witness more, I disappeared down the stairs and raided the kitchen for a snack. Settling for salted crackers, I had to lean against a cupboard to grasp my bearings, pull myself together. What happened to her? Why is she sick? Where is her father? All questions that were jostling around in my head, I picked one that needed to be answered first and then mounted the steps. I didn't bother peeking in first, merely approaching her bed and kneeling beside it. Handing Jane the cracker was like giving a child a gift on Christmas morning. Ravenously, she demolished the entire box then groaned. Her hand searched the floor frantically, I picked up the bucket and held it while she retched up all the crackers.

"Jane, what's making you sick?"

That was the night where I learned about bulimia. For the next few months I helped her. Tried to nurse her back to health and when I finally succeeded she silently kissed me on the cheek and skipped out of the door, out of my life for the rest of high school. We graduated years ago and had an on-and-off friendship of her getting sick, then better. The last 4 months had been fine! I finally thought she was cured, but there she sat, across from me wearing nothing except a ratty t-shirt and bruises. My sympathy for her was so strong that I could feel my heart break in two as she pushed eggs and bacon around on the chipped plate. I wanted to reach across and hold her, keep her together and pray that I was strong enough for both of us. I had this urge to kiss her, hoping that it would chase away the pain even if it was for a little while. Jane was in pain and it was killing me.

"Bleep! Bleep! Bleep!" I could hear a cell phone ringing in my room and watched as Jane dragged herself off of the bar stool and towards the obnoxious sound. It cut off mid-ring and I quietly ate, trying not to eavesdrop on her conversation. Curiosity got the best of me and I strained my ears for a hint of what she was talking about. I couldn't depict every word, but from the just of it I could tell she was frustrated. Suddenly, it stopped. A soft slapping sound of bare feet on hardwood filled my ears instead of the phone conversation.

I looked at her expectantly.

She sighed and sat down before looking at me, "That was my boyfriend, Jonah." In that instant, I hated Jonah. Loathed his existence on this planet more than murderer's or cancer. I knew that she was always in a relationship and I couldn't tell what was different about this one, I figured I had just had enough. I was sick of picking up the pieces of Jane after some idiot broke her. Didn't she know how badly this hurt me? How much it pained me to not only see her in such a state, but also that she was still with other guys? No. I came to the sudden realization that she didn't. I never told her my feelings, to her I could just seem like a good friend.

"I love you." I stated dumbly. "What the hell was that?!" I scolded myself silently. She had just finished telling me that she had a boyfriend and I was putting words like that in the open?! I looked for a reaction. She seemed startled, almost curious. Well I had screwed myself over already, might as well go the whole damned way.

"I love you, Jane. I always have! And that feeling for you just intensified ever since the night you told me about your..." she cringed,"...troubles. I'm not mad at you though. All those times I had to watch worthless guys trample on your heart, it hurt me, a lot. By eighteen you already had serious problems and I was so scared for you! All those times where I nursed you back to heath whether it was mentally or physically. Look, I'm not saying all these things to make you feel bad, but I want you to know that I will always be there for you. No matter if you push me away now, if you change your mind in ten years please remember that I will always be there for you. Always. I couldn't stop loving you if I tried. Because if all you wanted was me? I'd give you nothing less."

 

Author's Note

Another song prompt She Will Be Loved- Maroon 5. I don't know anyone with bulemia and I wanted to do it justice. Did I do an okay job?