Une Fleure Fanée

Week 4 Part 1 (Sunday Pt. 2)

     I look at GiaNina. There isn't a sign of any bruises or tender skin. But of course, her mom would never slap her or anything. GiaNina is perfect. She doesn't need any reprimanding as I do. I have to punish myself. You deserve to be punished, Lilliana.

      Eventually, the workshop starts. The teachers are really nice and very impressed by our technique and skill. When it is over, GiaNina's mom picks us up. GiaNina seems on the edge, sitting right behind her mom, looking out the window again.

      "So, how was Sheer Elite?" GiaNina's mom asks all of us at a red light, avoiding looking at GiaNina.

       "It was fine," me and Brady respond at the same time, yelling, "Jinx!" right after, laughing hysterically.

       GiaNina chuckles sadly, and GiaNina's mom finally takes notice of GiaNina, her mom's face contorting to one with concern.

      "Gia, are you okay sweetheart?" she queries, turning into the parking garage.

       GiaNina blinks a couple times, and quickly covers with, "Oh, yeah, I'm fine."

       I don't buy it. Not one bit. I know what it's like to say that you're okay but you need help. That's me right now. But GiaNina isn't as good at hiding it. We all walk to my apartment to hang out and watch some TV after and GiaNina seems very apprehensive. I have to figure out what was wrong.

     "GiaNina, you know you can tell us if something is up. Me and Brady, we're here for you," I tell her, rubbing her shoulder.

     "I know, okay? I just don't want to talk about it! I've known you guys for like, a month, and you think I'm going to tell you all of your deepest darkest secrets? No! Just stay out of it!" GiaNina yells, making me dart away from her.

     "Sorry. I just wanted to help," I murmur sheepishly, retreating back to whatever game Brady is playing.

      You are an idiot, Lilliana. No one wants your help because you are an idiot. The urges are telling me lies. People like me, right? People don't think I'm annoying, right? But I gain some information. She said that it was a deep dark secret. That means it's not good.

     I decide to grab a snack for us to eat. Maybe that will cheer us up. What's the thing with the least amount of calories? One Welch's fruit snack pack is 80 calories. The urges aren't coursing through me, so I assume that this was a safe choice. Does it even work like that?

      I toss GiaNina and Brady their small packs of artificial fruit juice, sugar, and gelatin as we munch on them. I still feel hungry. It's awful. I will have to have a hearty dinner. I still lowered my calorie count today.

     As we are watching some trashy reality television show, Mom comes home to check on us before going back out to go grocery shopping. The only rule was that the kids have to be gone by four and no adult television.

     But when Mom walks out of that door and the knob turns so it is locked, GiaNina waits about two minutes before bursting out into tears. I don't know what to do. I try to remember what the nurses would do if someone had a meltdown in the inpatient unit. Oh, yeah. They let them cry it out in a solitary confinement room.

      Brady rubs her back a bit gently and asks me if I can get her some water. I walk to the cabinet and grab a red solo cup. I go to the water dispenser that's built into the fridge and press the red solo cup to the button, making a waterfall. When the cup is about halfway full, I walk back to the couch and promptly hand GiaNina the cup.

      Her hands are shaky as she takes a sip and sets it onto the coffee table. She seems to calm down a bit as I lower the volume down on the television. I know that when I have a breakdown, every single noise is amplified.