Chapter four

With a heavy sigh, Davy placed his hands on either side of his rounded stomach. He grumbled to himself as he stepped off the scale. His weight gain wasn't a surprise but he still wasn't very pleased with himself over it. Disgusted and pissed were more like what he felt about himself and the weight he had gained. He grumbled again when he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. He had never pictured himself becoming this way since he had always kept so fit and trim. Now he was much more filled out. Chubby. He hated seeing the weight on him and yet, he felt that he deserved it because it kept him miserable.

Davy shook his head and turned away from the mirror. He left the bathroom and headed straight for the bedroom. As soon as he got there he knew he wasn't alone because he noticed Peter rummaging through the closet. Even though he'd prefer to be alone then, Davy stayed in the room. Turning his head down, he walked over to his bed.

Each step seemed a little heavier as the misery pressed down upon him. His face contorted with pure sorrow, and troubled thoughts were present behind his eyes. All his air escaped from his lungs in a miserable sigh as he sank into the mattress of his bed. He knew this got Peter's attention; it would be impossible for anyone not to notice it. Part of him, though, was glad to have got Peter's attention.

Peter glanced over his shoulder and saw Davy sitting there, looking pitiful. He watched as Davy poked and grabbed at himself while quietly muttering hateful, sad words to himself. Peter didn't have to question anything to realize that Davy was beating himself up about his weight. He could tell just by looking at Davy that he needed someone to help him past this moment. Davy needed comfort. He was aching to talk to somebody but at the same time he seemed to be fearful of opening up.

"Davy?" He watched as the shorter man looked up at him; his eyes were so sad so troubled, and held so much pain. "Davy would you like to talk?"

Davy hesitated then nodded his head before looking down again. Peter closed the closet door and pulled on the shirt he had in his hand.

"Is this about your weight?"

Again, Davy nodded only an air of humiliation began to sweep over him.

Peter realized that if he was going to get anywhere with Davy, it would be best to start the conversation. He also knew he'd have to start it in such a way that would guarantee that Davy would open up. Peter walked over to Davy's bed and sat next to him.

"Davy… so you put on a little weight. What's the big deal?" His question almost made him cringe over how insensitive it sounded. But he knew it was just the question to do the trick.

Davy lifted his head, frowning at him in disbelief. "A little weight, Peter? I gained fifty pounds! Fifty."

He groaned and lay back, pushing his hair away from his face. Then, with a sigh, he placed his hands on his stomach, looking at it as he gave it a shake.

"My God… How could I have allowed myself to gain so much weight?"

"Davy I'm sorry." Peter looked at him sadly. "I hate seeing you like this. You've been so depressed. When you came home we thought you would have gotten better. Then you started eating and well…. I'm sorry for what you're going through. But you know I'm always here to help you. We all are, you know."

Davy sat up, looking at him. His eyes filled with tears. "I… I really don't want to be this way anymore. I wish I knew how I got this way…. So depressed. But I can't help it. I feel so trapped."

A few tears rolled down his face. He looked away, appearing in pain as he tried to stop himself from crying some more. Peter watched him sadly, unsure of what to do for him.

"Davy can I ask you something?"

"What?" He sniffed.

"What… what made you start eating?"

Davy sat still for a moment. Even his tears had ceased falling. He let out a heavy sigh. "Honestly? I was scared."

"Scared of what?" Peter tilted his head.

"I was scared that I wasn't going to get better. I know it probably doesn't make sense." He sat quietly for a few seconds, trying to keep from crying some more. "I left the hospital feeling okay… but not better. I put myself down… beat myself up really. Told myself I wasn't getting better. It scared me. I didn't know what to do. I just… I guess I was looking for anything to help me feel better, and not scared anymore. I was so desperate… trying to find some way, any way to comfort myself."

"So… you turned to food." Peter said empathetically.

Davy nodded "Yeah. I hate that I did. But I felt like I had nothing else to rely on. I couldn't turn to you fellas for comfort. I was too scared of disappointing you all. I felt like you all would have been mad if I turned to you with all this stuff. You kept saying how concerned you were for me. But I'd look at you and none of you were happy with me. I thought you hated me. I'm just a burden with this bloody depression." He started crying again.

"It's like…" He sniffed and wiped tears away despite the fact that they were still falling. "The more I thought I was disappointing you fellas, the more I needed the comfort. And the more I ate the worse I felt about myself. And… that made me even more scared. So I kept eating." He placed a hand on his belly and scowled at himself through the falling tears. "Now look at me. Fucking fat. So bloody fantastic."

"Davy you are not fat." Davy glared at him, causing him to wince. "Davy I'm so sorry you're going through this. You should have turned to us. We would have helped you feel better. We still can. Give us a chance to help you, Davy. You're not a disappointment or a burden I promise. We just want you to get better."

Davy looked at him sadly. It hurt to hear those things because he was sure they were lies. It hurt him so much more to think that Peter would lie to him. Deep inside he knew Peter wouldn't ever lie, but it somehow made things easier to keep thinking that it wasn't true. It made it easier to keep thinking he was nothing but a big disappointment to everyone. It also allowed more pain to come in. And that was what he felt he deserved.

"Thank you." Davy whispered before letting Peter hug him. It destroyed him to realize that the hug provided him with no comfort whatsoever. Only more pain. More deserved misery.

"I just… I feel like I've been so depressed for so long that there is no way out."

Peter hugged him again. "We'll help you find your way out."

When Davy was alone, he sat at the edge of his bed staring. He stared into the darkness that surrounded and filled him. Slowly, a massive weight began to press on him. It caused him to crumple beneath it. He was filed with so much sorrow, so much misery. The tears started to creep up from the back of his eyes. And yet, he didn't feel like crying. He had everything going on inside of him, every bad emotion that he could possibly feel, and yet he felt empty. He started to feel numb. And he felt completely hopeless.

He was lost. Peter's words "We'll help you find your way out" were meant to be comforting to him. They were meant to help him. But he felt nothing from them. He felt like he couldn't trust those words. Even though they were meant to help him feel better, they only made him feel worse.

Davy glanced up and saw the full length mirror hanging on the door. He bit his lip, wanting to look away when he saw his reflection. But he made himself look. At that moment, he had never hated his reflection more. There was a time where he thought that wouldn't be possible for him to hate his reflection. But right now, he didn't see himself in the mirror. All he saw was a monster; the fat, depressed, hated, big disappointment he had become. He saw what he believed the others saw. A burden.

He was unable to bear it any more. His burning tears rushed to his eyes and he let them flow freely. His hatred for himself had worsened so much in that moment, so much worse than it had been during the entirety of his depression. There was absolutely no escaping it. He was bound to be stuck in his depression forever.

Laying back, he curled up on his side. He pulled his legs up as close to his body as he could get them. His tears continued to rush out as he began cursing himself for the state that he was in. As he did, thoughts of the hospital came back to him.

Davy hadn't left his bed all day. He hadn't even spoken a word to anybody. Mostly he just stared off into space. He always appeared so still, but he was anything but calm. He was screaming on the inside. His thoughts of suicide had returned and he didn't know how to handle it.

Nurse Cheryl had come in several times to check on him. She made many attempts at starting up a conversation with him, but this only clammed him up tighter. He was so afraid that if he opened his mouth, all his suicidal thoughts would spill out before her. He was worried that once he opened up about them to her then he would break down. And it would surely turn out to be the worst breakdown he'd ever experience. He wasn't trying to ignore her. He wasn't trying to be mean. He just didn't want to worry her any more than what she probably already was. She was the only one he could consider being even close to a friend in the hospital and it hurt him to think of him ever disappointing her.

She sat on his bed and ran a gentle hand through his hair. "Davy… It's clear you're not going to talk today. I just want you to know I'm here for you. Whenever you do decide to open up, I'm here. All I'll do is listen."

He turned his eyes up toward her, hoping that they showed his gratitude for this. He wanted to speak but he was still too scared to open up to her.

"It's okay, Davy. Don't worry about talking until you're ready. I'll be here when you are."

He nodded his head and closed his eyes. A tear rolled out and he released a staggered breath. He was glad that she was there for him but at the same time it made him feel worse. It frightened him. He wanted to open up but at the same time he knew he couldn't do it. He couldn't stand the thought of disappointing her.

Davy felt her stand. He heard her walk across the room and assumed that she was about to leave. He opened his eyes and turned to see where she was. She walked back over to the bed, carrying a box. With a sympathetic grin, she sat down on the bed with the box on her lap.

"You haven't eaten anything all day so I brought you something I know you will like." She opened the box to reveal half a dozen cupcakes, fresh from the bakery. "Davy would you like a cupcake?"

A little stunned, Davy slowly sat up. He stared into the box before taking one of the cupcakes. Continuing to stare at it, as though he had never seen one before, he held it with both hands in his lap. Cheryl reached over and rubbed his back with a soothing touch. He sighed, feeling so grateful that she would care so much about him. Suddenly, unable to control his emotions, he threw his arms around her and burst into tears. All she could do was hold him and let him cry.

Davy sniffed as he sat up. He wiped the remaining tears from his eyes and looked at himself with a growing disgust. With a groan he stood up and walked away from his bed. He paced a little, upset with himself. He muttered to himself before he stopped pacing. Looking up, he gazed upon the mirror and frowned at his reflection. It made him upset to see himself in such a state, emotional and overweight. He needed some way to help himself feel better.

Right away, more thoughts of Nurse Cheryl came to him. He thought about how kind she was to him, and how she genuinely cared about him. He thought about how happy she made him feel whenever she surprised him with something just to cheer him up. It wasn't always food, but when it was, it usually was cupcakes. He didn't know why but the cupcakes made him feel the most comfort. Maybe it had to do with because it was the first thing she gave to him to help him feel better.

A smile crept to his lips as he thought about this. She always seemed so sweet when she made attempts to cheer him up. It always worked. She knew just how to get to him. It made him feel good to know that she cared about him like that. It made him realize that he mattered to someone. If it wasn't for Cheryl showing in her own way that she cared about him, he wouldn't have got past his suicidal thoughts. He was even more grateful now to have known her in the hospital, even if it was just a short time.

Not thinking much about it, he patted his stomach and grinned as he thought about the cupcakes. Something sparked inside of him and he thought to himself that perhaps this was the perfect thing for him to get the comfort level that he desired. He didn't think about it, he just reacted as he left the room. He knew he was bound to feel better no matter what it would take for him. Even if it mean continuing to seek comfort in food. Perhaps, he thought, he would finally find the right source of comfort at the bakery.

Walking past the others with a box in his hands, Davy hurried to the bedroom. He went straight to the bed and plopped down, placing the box in his lap. He took a deep breath and opened the box. Staring into the box made him hopeful and sick at the same time. Inside the box, staring back at him, was a dozen cupcakes just like the ones that Nurse Cheryl would have given him. He licked his lips and studied the cupcakes, looking at them one by one.

They seemed to almost call out to him; taunt him. He wanted to eat all of them. He picked one up and looked at it closer. Deep inside he knew they weren't going to do any good for him but he didn't care. All he wanted was to cheer himself up. He pulled back the paper and suddenly his issues with his weight didn't matter to him. The first bite did it for him. He needed more.

The first one was quickly inhaled. He picked up the second and decided to take his time. He slowly peeled back the paper and took a bite. Suddenly, it no longer seemed urgent that he eat the cupcakes. Suddenly, his comfort was gone. He moped and continued slowly eating the cupcake. This started making him feel miserable again. His original euphoria had completely left him. Because of this misery, he knew he had to keep eating. Only now he wasn't eating for comfort. He was eating to hurt himself more. He kept eating because he felt he deserved to feel miserable. He needed to feel worse than he already did. That meant he had to eat every single cupcake in that box.