The Girlfriend

Chapter Thirteen

**TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter is a flashback that deals heavily with eating disorders, as mentioned by Lydia in the first story, The Assistant.**

Lydia

2013

My least favourite place in the world was doctors' offices, right next to hospitals. Nothing good ever happened here, especially not when they were threatening to get my mom involved.

"Are you her guardian then?" the balding doctor asked exasperatedly. "Someone needs to tell me who she's staying with."

Michelin huffed and crossed her knees. She was getting agitated at the doctor, and I didn't blame her. "She was staying with me; I was her foster parent and legal guardian—"

"But she isn't anymore?" the man pressed; his eyes narrowed as he assessed the woman.

"No, she's staying with her biological mother now, but we haven't finished with the paperwork."

Cancelling of the guardianship was supposed to take place tomorrow, but once my caseworker was advised of this little visit, she would likely insist on keeping me with the Montgomery's. This is worse than the juvie incident. I huffed and sunk lower in my chair, forcing my balled-up fists into my pockets in annoyance. I just wanted to go home; I didn't care who's at this point either.

"Alright," the doctor continued with a tone that told me he really didn't give a shit anymore. "She needs to be monitored closely for the next couple of days, tomorrow she has an appointment to speak with the dietician and there will be mandatory therapy sessions with the out-patient unit."

More fucking therapy. I didn't want to do group therapy again, that was the worst of the worst. And if they sent me back to Dr. Byers, I'd just flat out refuse; I didn't need mom hitting on him again, especially not in front of me.

The doctor continued talking at me, Michelin nodded along and jotted several notes on her phone. I stopped listening since it wasn't something I hadn't already heard. We sat there for another few minutes, I nodded when I needed to but mostly just stared at the white linoleum floor. He handed her a paper that had a new Prozac prescription and eventually, Michelin patted my hand and stood up. She filled out my discharge paperwork and I followed behind her wearily, already knowing another lecture waited for me in the car.

I squinted as we trudged across the scorching parking lot, I was sweltering in my hoodie and sweatpants, but it was all I had. We approached the sleek, silver Lexus in the lot and Michelin beeped the key fob before climbing into the driver's seat. I hesitated to reach for the handle, knowing that she was bringing me back to the trailer park and still unsure if I wanted to go. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her touching up her sharp, chin-length bob, and straightening out her plum suit jacket. She had probably come here from work, I felt bad that she had to drop everything for me.

"You promised you would talk to me, Lydia," she said quietly.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the window as she started the car. "They overreacted, I just fainted because of the heat."

"Yes," she replied bitterly. "Fainting from the heat is why they kept you here for seventy-two hours, and why they want you to return to therapy."

I stayed quiet. There was nothing else for me to say, I was backed into a corner where I knew that everyone else knew now. I thought I was playing the game smart, I didn't realize how close I was to getting caught.

"I don't know how they expect me to tell Danielle," she continued after a minute. "Are you going to be okay when I take you home? Are you going to be safe?"