Ch. 3

She was pacing in her room, mumbling to herself and gesturing frantically. He had peeked in a few times, hoping to see she had calmed down. He had no idea why she was upset, as far as he had witnessed, nothing out of the ordinary had occurred at breakfast. Yet her she was, wearing down the carpet across her room.

She was shaking, it kept telling her how worthless she was, how stupid. It screamed about her biggest fears. Telling her he would never want her, she was a cow, uglier than Donald Trump. It told her she was a fool for even entertaining the idea that a man could ever love her. No one would ever want to fuck her, knowing how fat was under her t shirt. So she paced her room. Back and forth while it belittled her further. It only started because she had a slice of dry toast for breakfast. She never ate breakfast. That first bite of anything in the morning would leave her wanting food all day; so she skipped breakfast and usually lunch, saving any calories she might eat for when she was forced to attend dinner with her family. Everyone seated at the breakfast table, however, she was trapped. Her stomach had been growling for hours, it drew her from a sound sleep, tangled with Jasper. So when she was given a slice of toast, she accepted. Her hands shook terribly, and she'd barely tasted the bread. Her stomach locked up in a cramp almost immediately. And now here she was 3 hours later, back and forth in her room while it reprimanded her for eating when she knew she gained a pound. Eleanor snapped. She had heard the story a million times and understood fully. So she screamed back at it, told it she understood, she knew. Told it that it was right, no man would ever love her. And it stopped. It stopped and silence filled her head. She stopped walking, her hands dropped to her sides, she took a deep breath and relaxed. It had been ages since her brain was this quiet for more than 30 seconds.

After a few minutes, Jasper realized the room was quiet. He could no longer hear her footsteps or her mumbling. Poking his head around the door, he saw Eleanor standing in front of her mirror, wearing the most revealing dress he had laid eyes on. Her ribs and spine stuck out of the black backless dress. He stepped into the room, relieved that she was calm. Stepping up behind her and wrapping an arm around her waist, Jasper asked "Are you alright?" Still looking at herself in the mirror, Eleanor smiled and said "I'm fine. Now let's get this gala over with."

Her mother's charity gala was today. Eleanor was supposed to smile and be charming, talk to all the important people, and most importantly, "behave herself." Her brain had quieted enough for her to bury the sadness and hunger deep inside. She had relaxed. Finding the dress she had picked out especially for the event, Eleanor dressed and fixed her hair. Jasper came up behind her, she felt his strong arms wrap around her. The voice piped up again, "he can feel your fat, he thinks you're disgusting." She swallowed hard, trying not to burst into tears. Pulling from his arms, Eleanor went into her closet. She grabbed the pill bottle from inside a pair of thigh-high boots, popped open the lid and dumped 6 diet pills in her still-shaking hand. She swallowed them dry and returned the bottle to it's hiding place. Taking a deep breath, she walked back to her room, pausing when she saw Jasper standing by her window. He turned when she came in and her breath caught. His tuxedo fit across his muscles in the most delicious way. Her eyes snapped to his hands, holding a newly wrapped joint. "I figured you would need this today," he held it out to her, "don't let her get to you, you deserve better than what the Queen gives you." She took the small thing from him and looked around for her lighter. She always lost her lighter.

He took it back from her, pulled his lighter from his pocket and lit the joint. He took a long drag before handing it to her. Jasper watched as she inhaled. She passed it back to him. Just enough to calm her nerves and settle his brain. He set the half smoked joint in her ashtray and led her toward the door. Stopping, he turned to her, "look at me, you are strong and beautiful, don't let her get to you." In the late morning light, Jasper thought her face was a bit more pale than usual. Her usually red lips were a faint pink. "Are you sure you feel alright, Princess?" She gave a slight nod. He didn't believe her, but if she wasn't going to talk to him, there was nothing he could do except wait for her to open up.

***The Gala***

Jasper stood at the edge of the ballroom, watching Eleanor drift from person to person, conversation to conversation. He could tell something was wrong. She was talking to the Prime Minister's wife, but glancing around, distracted. Jasper noticed her hands had stopped shaking. He headed toward her as her third glass of champagne slipped from her hand and shattered loudly on the marble floor. Her body crashed to the floor seconds later. He was beside her in seconds, checking for a heartbeat. Confused and frightened gasps sounded around him. He requests assistance immediately. Within minutes, the Royal Medical Team had arrived. Her lifeless body was taken and Jasper followed close behind. He overheard the Queen apologize to her guests and encourage everyone to return to their conversations. She never left the room. It sickened him to know that she could be that heartless.

She woke up in the ambulance, speeding toward the hospital. Jasper was sitting beside her, clutching her hand. She vaguely recalls the afternoon events. She had been exhausted, yet forced herself to behave and speak to the necessary guests. Too tired to fight her mother. While speaking with the Prime Minister's wife, she became increasingly dizzy and short of breath. She was freezing, goosebumps dotted her porcelain skin. All at once, everything went dark. Looking again at Jasper, she manages to speak though her throat is dry and hoarse, "where am I?" He looks up, startled. Her head is aching and her muscles feel like someone has run over. But his hands, wrapped around hers, is oddly comforting.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when she spoke. To be honest, Jasper wasn't sure she would wake up at all. Her face is hollow, dark circles line underneath her beautiful green eyes. "I thought I had lost you. Don't scare me like that, again." Her hands were like ice. He saw a shiver run across her body and reached for the blankets draped across her, pulling them up. He told her what had happened, leaving out the part about her mother. But Eleanor was smart, she picked up on the missing bits and asked him out-right. He tried to stall, change the subject, distract her. "Where is my whore of a mother?" It was no use, he had to tell her.

"I can see the headlines now, 'Party Princess ODs at Charity Gala, Disgraces Crown.' You know she will spin it to make me out to be some horrible creature...not that she's wrong." She mumbled the last bit, hoping he wouldn't hear her. She was wrong, of course. Jasper swept the hairs from her face, "Look at me, you have done nothing wrong. You didn't overdose because you haven't had anything except pot. I've been by your side for the past three days. You are not a horrible creature, you are sick." "I'm not sick. There is nothing wrong with me. I can stop this anytime I want." It was the same lie she had been telling herself for months now. Every time she got dizzy, lightheaded, nauseated, weak, she would tell herself she was still in control of this. And every time she managed to eat, she would tell herself she was faking, doing this for attention, she wasn't really sick.

His heart cracked watching her in the emergency department, in a private room of course. Nurses and doctors examined her, asking far too many questions. Her strength was gone and he could see her fading, desperate for sleep. But the questions continued. 'Have you taken any legal or illegal substances? Have you had any alcohol? When was the last time you ate?' She flinched at the last question, he did as well. He knew the answer, oh she had eaten some toast at breakfast, but he doubted she let it digest. Which of course would mean her last actual bit of food was about 4 days earlier, on a night when they had gotten stoned together. He smiled at the memory of her laughing while he struggled to make tacos in the palace kitchen. She had only eaten the tomatoes and some lettuce, but she ate something, at least. But that wasn't the answer she gave the doctor, insisting that she always ate three meals a day. The look on his face indicated he didn't believe her.

The doctor asked so many questions and her head was killing her, she was so tired. She wanted to be back in her room, wrapped up in Jasper's warm embrace. She knew the doctor didn't buy her story about eating, but she couldn't care less. She was fat and that needed to be dealt with. The nurse struggled to get the IV in her arm, and after repeatedly stabbing her, he decided to find someone else, much to Eleanor's relief. Finally alone in the room, she struggled to hold back the tears.

He could tell she was breaking and it killed him. She was such a beautiful woman, talented and witty, smart as fuck. But for a number of reasons, she was trapped in this vicious cycle, starving herself until she couldn't anymore, then eating; even tiny bits of healthy foods made her sick. He saw the panic in her eyes when she gave in. She would spend hours looking at herself, weighing and measuring. He watched her grow more and more weak, her body tiring after simple daily tasks. He struggled to keep from hurting her when they had sex. He heard her let out a whimper, barely audible. She was shivering. Dropping his tuxedo jacket on the foot of her bed, he slid in next to her, pulling her into his arms. She clung to his chest, burying her face in his neck. The tears poured from her all at once.

"I keep hoping I'll pass out so that someone will finally care enough to tell me its ok to stop, but it never comes." She forced the words out and wasn't sure he had heard her. "All my life, I heard how so and so was a pretty girl, how she must have guys lining up to go out with her. I heard over and over how beautiful my friends were. Not once has anyone ever told me I am beautiful. Oh sure, the lowlifes compliment me, hoping to get into my bed. But no one who ever mattered to me has told me I'm beautiful or even pretty. My father would always just say 'look at you,' when I came out wearing a nice dress. My bitch of mother would come out with some half-hearted compliment, 'don't you look nice.' Never anything to boost my confidence. I was never good enough for them. I wasn't smart enough, or well-mannered, I was never pretty enough. I had no control over anything in my life, and this is all I have left that is just mine." She let it all out for him, told him everything she had ever felt or thought. She told him every insecurity. He listened, though she continually expected him to leave or laugh at her. For some reason, he did neither. He held her close and tangled his fingers in her hair.

His eyes filled with tears as she spoke. Her mind was a dark and hopeless place, somewhere she had been trapped for far too long. Pulling back from her, he looked into her eyes, "I want to tell you something, and it has NOTHING to do with what you just said. Ok?" She nodded. "You are the most beautiful, amazing woman I have ever met. My life was missing something before you. You have the strongest, kindest heart and I envy that about you. I would have given up years ago. But you cannot keep doing this to yourself. I feel like I'm losing you and I don't think I would survive if that happened. You wanted a reason to stop, I'm giving it to you." He had planned to propose when they were alone in her bedroom, simple, nothing elaborate or showy. But this seemed like a perfect moment. Adjusting himself on the bed, he fished the tiny blue box from his trousers. He blushed as he handed it to her.

Eleanor stared at the box, she hadn't seen this coming, too wrapped up in herself. 'Selfish,' is what her mother had called her, 'too selfish to be in a relationship.' She opened the box and her jaw dropped, in place of a showy diamond, was a simple, hand carved wooden ring. She looked up at him, "you, you made this?" He nodded. She jumped as the door swung open to reveal the Queen. "Seriously, Eleanor? Pulling a stunt like this just to rope some poor commoner into proposing?"

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