Skeletal Prison

Chapter Two

Over half of my friends have given up on me now, my mom has but she wont tell me seeing as when ever we talk we fight and it just ends up worse than when it started. My dad still wants me to get better, but he has never been good at talking to his daughter like his daughter and not like he is my lawyer. My step-mom would love it if I just stayed at my moms house, and never knew my half-sister. But yet Mia loves me, sure, she does not understand everything about what I am going though, but I know that she wanted me to get better. 

But all in all, I am alone in this and for once I have no one to turn to, no one to blame but myself for the place I am now. 

Watching them bring over the snack, it is an apple with caramel. The numbers fly into my head without warning. Even though here they tear off all labels, and hide everything that can be used for counting calories, we all know the numbers. They are forever in our head. I watch as they pass out the small plates to each person. 4 slices, and caramel drizzled over top so there is no way to avoid the sticky covering. 

My stomach wants the food. My heart is telling me to eat it, that I will love it. My brain needs it. But the voice, she tells me no. She is yelling louder and louder as my hand reaches and takes a bite. As I let it slip down my throat, she is screaming, telling me I am fat/ugly/stupid/weak. I want to cry/throw it up/leave/run. I want to get out of this place.

“Tessa, 3 more apples.” The nurse says as she walks around the table, taking notes on me and the other 5 girls at the table. It is a nazi camp, there is no freedom here. 

It takes me 2 minutes to get the second slice down, and 3 minutes to get the last two down. Looking at my plate. It is all gone. It is crawling though my esophagus and sitting in stomach, though my body like a disease. But my bod won’t fight it off. 

“Tessa, Cathy would like to talk to you before bed.” The heavyset nurse says as she takes my plate and dismisses me form the table. Looking up at her, I just nod before walking from the kitchen. My skin covered in goosebumps. I am cold, but my cardigan is upstairs. 

Walking down the hall, I finally reach her office, opening the door I see the walls covered in pictures by her kids, awards, diplomas, pictures of her families. It is a happy place, but yet also the worst. This is the first place you see when you get admitted, you get to listen to her telling you what it is going to be like, you get to listen to her tell you the rules and what to expect. Not that you can pay attention, if you get sent here, it is because you are days before you forever nap under the earth. So, as for your brain, you are thinking of anything but what she is preaching. 

“Tessa, sit down hon.” She says in her thick southern accent. Doing as she says I fold my hands under my small thighs. Under my nails, my skin is blue, it is cold, and just wanting the gloves that are sitting on my bed. I am trying to stay warm in this frozen hell. “I wanted to talk to you about going home. You have been eating well, and not fighting it. You are doing good in group and everything. I am think you are ready to go home.”

Those words, I have been wanting to hear those for so long. Home. 

“I called your mom and she thinks that it would be best to live with your dad because of her hectic work schedule. Your dad and your mom will stop by after breakfast tomorrow so we can go over the meal plans and what to expect when you do go home. By this time tomorrow, you will be getting ready to go to sleep in your own bed.”

All of these things are being thrown at me at once. I am happy that I am going home, happy that I won’t be with my mom, excited that I can try to be a normal 16 year old again. But yet I am scared, scared of what the future will hold. for the past 2 months my life had been planned for me. I knew what to expect, but now, I was clueless on what the future held for me. And that was what caused me to stop eating in the beginning. 

“I will have Rachel come up and help you pack so you are ready for tomorrow. I am so proud of you Tessa.” She says as she gives me a proud smile on her face as she looks over at me. That was the thing about Cathy, you wanted to hate her, loathe her. But yet you wanted to give her a hug, to trust her. 

Walking out of her office, my head swimming with what just happened. Home/Freedom/Warmth/Happiness, but yet I am also scared, scared that I will screw up, that I will just make everything worse. 

Pushing my door open, I close it behind me and just sit on the small twin bed, looking at myself in the mirror that sits across from me. My hair is thin, so are my nails. My skin looks like it is being stretched over a mountain. There are stretch marks on my thighs and my stomach from how fast I put on weight. My skin is starting to go back to a normal color, and I am not as tired as before. 

In 24 hours, I will be at home, going to bed in my bed. But, the more I think about it. What if they got rid of all of my things, hoping that I could never come back to their house, hoping that I would never step foot back in there. Maybe they all hoped that I would never get out, that I would be locked in a mental asylum forever. 

Looks like God was listening to my prayers, not theres. For the first time, I win.