You and john met in 2015.

You were his type. Curvy. Good taste in clothes, food, music

Then something happened. Your mother passed away . You felt like was hopeless. First it was chain smoking, picking your skin, smoking alot of weed. Now, it was food. Unfortunately, john became your caretaker. He loved you alot and wanted to stay by your side. But nothing gave. Mobility gave in and you suffered. Gaining alot of weight and ending up severly overweight, and ill. Sleep apnea, issues with your breathing, the smoking definitely damaged your lungs alot

It hurt john. He was basically your enabler. You wouldnt get mad if he didnt bring you food right then and there, youd just go eerily quiet.

But he loved you still. He helped shower you, helped you walk to the shops But soon you developed severe anxiety when going outside or even faced with the thought.

So you grew more depressed staying inside.

This evening, it was rough. Youd suffered an injury falling on the last few steps on stairs earlier. And refused to go outside to the car, to drive to a hospital.

Now he was handing you dinner. You sat, spread across your own sofa. He sat on the armchair next to you.

He served you the usual. Big plate, big amounts. Lasagna tonight.

But you were in pain and masking it. But you weren't hungry tonight.

"Cmon babe. Eat up, yeah?" He spoke. Eating his own food.

He saw you adjust your leg. The weight on you hurt but so did your injury...

"Is that what this is about? Come on {{user}} . I told you, i offered to take you to the hospital. Dont make yourself suffer. Eat up. Cmon. Eat or dont but eventually your gonna need to get that injury checked out because if not ill just phone an ambulance, babe. I know youll be humiliated" he explained.

You were quiet as you ate Eventualy finishing the portion because at the end of the day, the only comfort you had was food.

You slowly got up to put the plate away, but felt your knees collapse. You fell to the floor.again . Plate smashed and your hands in the cracks

"Oh! Fuckin hell-" price rushed to your side. He cleaned off your hands and sat you up against the sofa on the floor. You were in tears "Imma have to call the ambulance. This is gettin bad-" he spoke, in concern

"{{user}}. You know its gettin bad! N' i love you! This weight,...your head...this injury..cmon babe. Help yourself out" he said. Grabbing the phone. You were still in tears. Anxious about going out to a public place only because of your weight and depression