Page 16 of #Beautiful

“Aww, Declan like glitter?” Sandra teases, giving him a wink as she adds three tiny pumpkins to the badge she’s working on.

Declan walks around the couch and plops down next to me, putting his arm around the back of the couch. “Real men aren’t afraid to admit they like pretty things, Sandra. Lena sparkles every day, and I freaking love her.”

Pursing my lips together and glancing at him, my heart melts. Declan really can be the sweetest guy sometimes. “Well, we’re about done, so how about you go take a shower because you are sweating from building crap, and then I will take one and we can get in our costumes?”

Declan quickly leans over and kisses me before heaving himself off the couch. “Deal. Love you.” As fast as he appeared, he gone up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Chuckling, I get back to the lanyards, and within ten minutes, we’re done and cleaning up. I do as I said and go take a shower. What I didn’t mention was the extra purging. My costume is Cat Woman, and I’m certainly glad for my new thin frame because a spandex suit leaves nothing to the imagination. I braid my hair so that is doesn’t get messed up from the little cat mask with ears.

Putting my make up on, another dizzy spell hits me, and I have to catch myself on the sink. “Whoa.”

Going back to the mirror, I blink several times, trying to un-blur my vision. The room spins, though, and I try to call out for someone, but the words get caught in my throat. A sharp pain hits my chest, and I sway, trying to hold myself up and grab my chest at the same time.

The world tilts, and my gut heaves.

Something isn’t right.

Chapter 14 - Declan

“Dude, the band is setting up,” Jackson says, passing me a soda. “Where’s Lena?”

We decided to dress at Batman and Cat Woman this year. “Probably trying to get in that crazy excuse for a costume. Damn thing looked so tight, I don’t think I’d get my hand in it let alone any other part of me. I’ll be back, though.”

Heading out of the kitchen, I wave and say hello to some of the guests that are already here hanging out. Jackson’s right, though. Lena’s been getting ready for well over an hour and definitely should be done by now. Taking the stairs two at a time, I come to a stop and knock on her bedroom door. I call out her name as I open it, sticking my head inside.

“Baby, party is starting. You ready yet?” Stepping into her room, the eeriness makes my stomach knot. “Babe?” Something isn’t right. Looking around, her shoes for tonight are still on the bed, and next to them is a composition book I haven’t seen before. Picking it up, the front reads ‘Food Log’ — what in the hell?

Opening it the first page, it’s a note written in Lena’s handwriting.

Torrey and Gretchen said to journal along with my food log. They say it helps when you get worried or start feeling guilty about how you’re dieting. So, I thought I’d start with a little entry and then log today’s stuff afterward. Torrey is definitely the better log keeper, but that’s because she is like the Purge Queen. She literally keeps track of her purge weights and has like a whole system to figure out how much she needs to adjust to hit her goal weights. It’s crazy intricate, and I’m a little envious. Her attention to details is probably why she’s so happy with herself and able to maintain so well.

My brows pull together in confusion. Purging? What the hell is this? Turning to the next page, what this is finally dawns on me.

Lena has an eating disorder. This isn’t just a food log. She’s logged every time she’s thrown up, what time, the contents. . . How the hell didn’t I realize this is what’s been going on? My heart breaks, right there in my girlfriend’s room.

“Oh, baby, no. . .” Closing the book, I toss it back on the bed and look around more. “Lena!”

“Dec—” Her voice is so faint I barely hear it.

The only closed door is the bathroom so that’s where I go. Opening the door, slowly, the blood drains from my face as Lena’s bare feet come into view. “Lena!” Flinging the door open, I find her sprawled on the floor, blood pooling on the white tile from a gash in the side of her head. Dropping to my knees, I pull my cell phone out and dial 9-1-1. As it rings, I find a towel and press it to the gash on her head. “Hold on, baby.”

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” a smooth, calm female says on the line.

“My girlfriend fell in the bathroom and hit her head. She’s got a huge gash and is bleeding pretty badly.” I sound calmer than I am because not only am I worried about Lena, but I’d like to go downstairs and strangle Gretchen, then go to her house and do the same to Torrey. How the hell could they encourage this?

“Okay, sir, are you at 1654 Greek Row on the University campus?”

“Yes,” I say as Lena’s hand touches my leg, her eyes opening briefly but unable to focus on anything. “Phi Theta Forever house, third floor bedroom.”

“Ambulance is on the way,” she says, “just keep pressure on the wound until paramedics arrive.”

“Declan,” Lena whispers my name, and I set my phone down on the toilet seat lid. Holding the rag firm against her head, I entwine my fingers with her hand laying against her stomach. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Shhh,” I say say as tears well in my eyes. “You’re gonna be fine, baby, okay? Ambulance is on the way, just stay awake for me.”

Feet thunder from somewhere in the hall, and a crash let’s me know someone is here. A second later, there’s what seems like a hundred voices filling the room.

“Son, we need you to step back so we can get her on the stretcher,” a deep voice says.

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