a/n: Hi Originals fandom! I recently did a re-watch of the show and broke my own heart again. I really miss it. This is a one-shot focusing on Hope's guilt and grief after Hayley's passing as well as her struggling with an eating disorder. Please don't read if this is something that is potentially triggering to you.
"You haven't been eating."
Hope looks up to see her father staring at her. He said it as it was a fact, no room for debate. It was a hell of a opener, she would admit. She was lying down in her room, still in her pajamas. Her curtains were closed, she had no idea what time it is. She thought he'd ask how is she feeling or why she would take the Hollow in knowing the risk it presented. Or why she hasn't gotten out of her room in three days. She had spent the past couple days after her mom's funeral and taking the Hollow, isolated, she hasn't spoken to anyone since asking her Aunty Freya to help her take back the Hollow. Feeling the dark magic eat away at her sanity. Feeling it drain the very little happiness left in her brain. Her Aunty Freya came in to check up on her every now and then, leaving a tray of sandwiches or a side of fruit and a cup of coffee by her bedside, but it was all left untouched. She would try to sit on the bed and smooth her hair, or rub her back. Hope would just pretend she was asleep or turn away. She didn't deserve her aunt's kindness.
Hope didn't bother responding, there was nothing to say. She had no appetite and even when she did, she felt like she didn't deserve to eat. She seemed to be the cause of all her own pain and misery. She deserved every bad body ache, every headache, every stabbing stomach pain that came with not eating. She hated herself so much. Food became unappealing. It was just something that kept her alive and honestly she's not sure that's what she wants. She practically felt his worry by his intense gaze, this dynamic was new to her. Him being a parent. She thought this conversation would be coming from her Aunty Freya, probably tag team with Keelin, who would go into doctor/worried aunty mode and list risks and facts of what not eating can do to a teenage body. Or maybe if Freya told the whole family, Rebekah and Marcel would be the one to try to talk to her. They both had their own ways of being confronting and comforting at the same time.
He walked in the bedroom, eyeing the full tray of pancakes and side of eggs and bacon. She sat up, shifting so he had room on the bed if he decided to sit down.
"I'm not hungry." she supplied quickly, knowing a comment about the tray was coming. She hoped that was enough to satisfy him and leave the subject alone. She couldn't tell if that was a lie at this point or not. She doesn't feel any hunger cues. But she knew she should feel hungry. She's currently on day three of not eating. Sure she stomach growls. There was absolutely no desire to eat or accommodate her aching body. Why take care of something you hate? She lost all hunger cues and have no idea what her body needs or craves. She felt so disconnected from her body, she doesn't know when it started, maybe when she was a kid and got possessed by the Hollow? Not that she would admit this to anyone, let alone her dad, she hated her body. Hated how powerful she was sometimes, she hated how people feared her.
"When was the last time you ate?" He asked, she froze at the question, certain he would not like her answer.
"It doesn't matter," she argued. "I'll eat when I'm hungry." She lied, knowing she wouldn't.
She needed this conversation to stop. The last thing she needed was to get into an argument with her dad, it seems like that's all they have been doing lately.
"Of course it matters," his tone bordering on being offended by the very idea she thought it didn't matter and being angry at that same fact.
He sighs and takes a seat on her bed. "Freya says you go through this phases," He started. She could tell he was attempting to keep his voice calm. "Periods of starvation whenever you're stressed or sad."
She nearly rolled her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic, dad. I'm not starving myself." And, it's true. She never went longer than three days without eating. And she always had coffee or a cup of tea to stave off the hunger. It wasn't like she was truly starving herself and only drinking water. She ate whenever she deemed necessary. Or whenever people expected it of her, not wanting to deal with anyone's line of questions, like now.
"Then why are you avoiding the question?" He asked, anger evident in his tone.
"I'm not, I'm fine, ok." Her voice hard, hoping he'd get the hint and back off.
"When was the last time you ate?" Her father asked again, his voice louder this time.
"Dad please-
"Answer me!" He yelled, cutting off her plea to not worry about it anymore.
"Three days ago," she said quietly, sure if he wasn't a hybrid with super hearing he wouldn't have heard it. She expected more yelling, him to take his anger out the only way he knew how. She expected maybe something to be thrown across her room in rage. Maybe her lamp or even the tray of food. What she didn't expect was her dad to look at her with eyes close to tears and to hear a painfully asked "Why?"
She was speechless, she didn't know what to say or how to answer. When everything felt like too much, when she hated herself too much to bear, when everything was spinning out of control, controlling her food was how she survived. No one tracked her meals at school. So it was much easier to get away with there then at home.
"Why are you starving yourself, Hope?" Her dad seemed desperate for an answer she didn't have. She also felt the term starving yourself was extreme, but she knew better than to argue.
She had almost this same conversation with her mom about a year ago. She was home for the summer and her mom picked up on the fact she didn't eat. She didn't know her Aunty Freya noticed, seeing the pattern. It didn't start off in a body conscious way, though she did hate her body. It was more because of the guilt. Of ripping her family apart. The guilt of knowing everyone would be better off without her. She felt like her life isn't worth the sacrifices it took. Thinking of her mom made her tear up. Another thing to feel guilty for. The key she played in her mom's murder. She doesn't even remember how the argument played out with her mom. Probably promising to eat more and not really doing it. But she knew that wasn't an option with her dad. Her mom was busy being alpha, being queen. Her dad held no such obligations, so he would be more then willing to spend his free time making sure she ate. She wiped her tears, wishing her mom was here. She was her best friend, and sure they argued. But her mom was the one constant in her life. The one she told nearly everything too. The one who sang her to sleep and braided her hair and bought her paint sets and read her stories. She needed her. And because of her stupid actions, she wasn't here. She felt the guilt and grief consume her. She didn't deserve her dad's love or concern. Her aunty Freya's delicious food. She deserved to fade away and fall into nothingness. To sleep and to never wake up. To deal with every ache and pain that accompanied not eating.
"Please, littlest wolf, you cannot do this to yourself." Klaus almost pleaded. " I won't let you." He continued, voice now hardened.
She nearly scoffed. "You can't save me, dad." She let herself feel angry, no longer wanting to be sad and scared. "You shouldn't want to," she added in a quieter tone. "There is nothing worth saving."
She never wanted anyone to know this side of her. She put all this time and energy into a facade. Be good girl Hope Marshall. Be a good daughter. Be a good niece. Keep in contact with her family and make them proud, let them know she was worth the sacrifices they made. She never wanted anyone to pick up how bad it really was. How she did go through stages of not eating for days at a time. How the thought of food made her nauseous. How on the occasions she was forced to eat, dinners with her mom and Declan or Aunty Freya and Keelin, she would have such intense food guilt she would cry after. How not eating or eating brought intense stomach pain either way. How sometimes when she ate what was considered too much for the day she would purge after.
Her mom used to make French toast once a week when she'd be home for breaks and holidays. Keelin made the best penne alla vodka pasta and Aunty Freya would make the most amazing brownies or cookies for dessert. When she was younger her favorite after school snack was peanut butter and banana toast with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. Her mom introduced it to her and said it was favorite staple sandwich because it was at any foster home she was bouncing around too. How purging made her feel light and empty and how she hated the act of purging she secretly loved the feeling after. While her mom and aunt knew about the skipping meals, what no one knew about was her throwing up. How even though people called her indestructible, not eating made her weak. Made her feel dizzy and out of it. Made her feel human. Instead of the freak people describe her as. And the days the dark thoughts win. She hopes it might kill her. It would let her escape how terrible she feels. Then if she's gone, her family would be together again and all the issues would be solved.
Eating made her feel terrible, the food guilt was too much. After every single bite, her brain screamed at her, and when she overate, she purged. It was a routine, a cycle. One she didn't know how to function without, she doesn't really want to do so. She turned away from her dad, unable to look at him. Everything hurt so much and she didn't know how to cope. At least now she can blame her lack of appetite on her grief. She felt guilty she was worrying her Aunty Freya though, after everything she's done for her. She's surprised she told her dad and didn't confront her, herself. Her aunt was never afraid to have tough conversations.
She had no idea if her dad responded or not, she was too lost in her own head. Her hands subconsciously squeezing the skin and fat on her stomach. Pinching it. She did that sometimes. At first she wasn't aware she was even doing it. It would happen when she sat on her bed or couch or even a desk. She'd just squeeze any fat she found. When she lies down in bed, she'd try to feel for her ribcage. The random body checking got more and more frequent. Whenever she saw her body in a mirror, it was as if her flaws were being highlighted with neon signs. She hated mirrors. She could stare at her body for what felt like hours and mentally rip herself apart. She hated every inch of her stomach. Her thighs. Most of all she hated her mind, for putting her through couldn't eat now, she made it this far. Eating now would feel like failing. She couldn't handle that feeling anymore.
"Stop." Her dad demands, voice rough. He grabbed her hands so she wouldn't hurt herself anymore, bringing her back into the moment. His grip was tight but not painful. She looked up. Her vision blurry from tears she wasn't aware she had in her eyes. She saw the anger but also the hurt in her dad's eyes. She was destroying herself right in front of him. And she didn't care. She needed this. Thinking about how to avoid food distracted her from it all. Thinking about her body and hyper-focusing on it saved her from drowning in her guilt and grief. If she had a hunger headache and can't make it out of bed, she can't focus on anything else. From the things that would really kill her.
He wordlessly tugged her to his chest, let go of her hands and she hugged him while she cried. She doesn't remember the last time she got to hug him like this, be so close. To have her dad witness her in such an emotional uncontrolled state. For so long she had to act tough and strong. She had to study hard and learn magic to get the family back. She had to show she was okay. There was only so long she was able to hold up this performance. She cried so painfully, the same ache in her chest bursting the way it did when Freya told her that her mom died. There was also this small part of her felt embarrassed about being caught body checking and hurting herself. She didn't want to put him through this. Guilt and shame for hurting him more brought more tears to her eyes. But she didn't know what else to do, how else to cope. He just hugged back and soothed her hair. They sat like that for a while and the heavy feeling in her chest went away.
"I'm here, sweetheart." He promised. "I'm here." The simple words comforted her. After a while, she looked up at him. Tears in his eyes but never made it down his face.
"Let's go to the kitchen, hm," he suggested, his tone soft. "I know you don't want to, but you need to eat something." His voice left no room for argument. She nodded, having no energy to fight. Deep down she knew she needed too. The dizziness and headache almost left her bedridden. She tried to get up but her legs weren't cooperating.
"I got you, littlest wolf." Her dad said, lifting her up and holding her bridal style. She put her head on his chest. She doesn't care how stupid or childish she looked. She never got this. Having her dad take care of her while she was sick. Having him console her after a rough day. She hated that something this awful, this drastic, is what it took to finally be with her dad again. She closed her eyes as they made the way into the kitchen. She couldn't handle the light, after being in her dark room for days on end.
Her dad put her on the kitchen counter where she sat with her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees, leaning her head on them. "What do you want to eat?" He asked. She didn't know how to answer. She looked up, the one room in the house that was foreign to her. The smells alone made her queasy. "I don't know." She admitted, voice still hoarse from crying.
Her dad didn't respond, instead he looked around the kitchen. She almost wanted to laugh, he looked so out of place. In this moment she realized she has never seen her dad cook anything. He'd always compel some chef to make meals or a baker to send delicious pastries to the house when she was younger. She put her head back down, thinking about food hurt. Her list of foods she could eat without guilt was short and all reminded her of her mom. Every memory of her mom was tainted by the memories of the house they were spelled into, the one she left alive and her mom didn't.
Tears threaten to spill over again, she felt her hands go to her stomach, to pinch her skin. It was automatic. "Hope." Her dad's voice stopping her from pinching even harder. She let go, hating herself more for letting him in on her secret habit. She looked up. There was so much hurt in his eyes, she was the cause of so much pain.
"Here," Her dad offered, sliding a plate to her. The smell was sweet. It was two pieces of peanut butter toast with banana slices and cinnamon, like her mom used to make. She couldn't stop the tears from falling this time. Her dad wiped her tears. "Your mom would have this almost everyday when she was pregnant with you," Her dad said. She never really got to hear any stories about her mom being pregnant. Besides everyone trying to kill them both fearing how powerful she was. She found it ironic that the world feared her and her endless power, when all she wanted to do was end herself, not the world. Some nights when she couldn't fall asleep, she'd wish maybe someone did kill her as a baby. Her mom would be alive and safe and her family would be together. Though it was nice getting to hear something about her mom regarding her pregnancy that wasn't linked to potential murder. She never heard anything soft or sweet like this. Maybe when she was feeling better, when memories of her Mom didn't make her heart feel like it was going to shatter, she'd ask her dad for more stories like that.
Hope let her legs swing off the edge of the counter, putting the plate on her lap. She just stared at the food, the pit in her stomach growing. This was one of her safe foods, she should be able to do this. Her dad surprised her by grabbing a piece. "Let's eat together." He said, watching her carefully. She grabbed a piece and took a bite. It tasted like home. She watched her dad take a bite and make a face, he wasn't really a fan of human food. She couldn't help but smile.
"You don't have to eat it, dad."
"No, I'm quiet enjoying it, sweetheart." He said, taking another bite. She did the same. She knew what he was doing, eating for the sense of camaraderie. So she wouldn't feel alone. Letting them have this moment together so she wouldn't focus on the fact she was eating. The feeling of it going in her stomach, causing it to cramp. The food guilt clawing its way to her heart and mind.
"Thanks, dad." She said once her toast was all done. "It was really good."
"I'm proud of you." He said, putting his piece back on the plate. "I love you so much, Hope."
The sudden sincerity caught her off guard. For a second the moment felt lighthearted. Just a father and daughter having lunch or a snack.
"I love you too, dad." She said, hoping he felt it. "I'm sorry to put you through this."
"No, sweetheart," He was instantly by her side, looking her directly in the eyes. "There is nothing to apologize for, I don't want you dealing with this on your ownf. Trust me, if anyone knows anything about fighting demons, it's me." He said with a small smile.
"You are so strong and so beautiful." She didn't believe him, it felt like things dad were supposed to say to their daughters. "Just like you're mother."
She closed her eyes, trying to fight the tears. Though she still didn't believe him, the thought was nice. "Thank you."
"Can you please tell me stories about her?" The question is out there before she even realized she asked it. She wanted stories about her mom that didn't include her fighting for her life. Just everyday moments. Moments between her and her dad that were just about them becoming parents, not just protectors. Stories humans would tell their children. Stories that would make her forget all the supernatural ties in her life. Just a normal teenage girl wanting to learn more about her mom.
"How about we make a deal?" He offered. "Every time you eat or try to eat, I'll share a story about her."
She found the deal a bit unfair. He knew how hard it was to eat. Though she understands using the stories as motivation. She knew the conversation regarding her eating habits weren't going to stop just because she ate a piece of toast today. She should be happy her dad was reacting like he was. Not in anger like she feared. But she felt she should get to hear some stories about her mom, without the anxiety and guilt of eating overriding it.
"I'll still tell stories regardless," Her dad said, pulling her out of her thought spiral. "But I need you to eat. To stop hurting yourself so viciously and violently. Whatever horrible thoughts about yourself may be in your head, let me assure you, they are not true." His voice was firm, so sincere. She almost believed him.
"I know it won't be easy," He admitted. "Learning to eat normally, especially in a house where half the family doesn't really eat. Will you at least promise to try?"
Hope wanted to say no. She couldn't imagine a world where she ate three meals a day and didn't purge. Where the thought of eating didn't bring tears to her eyes. She couldn't give up the control, the promise of pain. She wanted to lock herself back in her room and let herself fade away. Let the Hollow overwhelm her and potentially kill her. But she knew her Aunty Freya was working endlessly to find a spell to save her. That now that her family can be together again, she couldn't isolate and let herself give up. No matter how much her brain begged her to do so. She had to fight. To be the daughter her parents fought so hard for. If she was being honest with herself, there is a small part of her that wants to live. To get to spend all the missing moments with her dad, with her family. A part of her that wants to become powerful and strong, become a leader and protector just like her mother was. To carry on the Marshall and Mikaelson name. She had to honor both. She knew it was going to be difficult, and later she might grow to regret the decision. But if she can survive the grief of losing her mom, survive taking in the Hollow, then just maybe, she could survive this.
"I promise."
A/N: Not going to lie, I had no idea where this story was going. I had the first half typed up and no plans for the ending. I just wanted to write about grief/guilt and an eating disorder. I hope this wasn't too messy and all over the place. If you're struggling in similar ways to Hope, I want you to know that you can recover. You can heal. Everyday won't be easy. But everyday not giving in to the ED voice is worth it. Thank you so much for reading and hope you have a great day.