Une Fleure Fanée

Week 16 Part 2 (Friday)

     "Mark? Oh, sweetheart," Mom says and she takes me into her arms, cradling me like a baby.

     "I'm gonna die," I whimper, burrowing my head into her shoulder.

     "You're not gonna die. I won't let you," Mom assures me as she rubs my back.

     Slowly, my breath returns to me, but the fear and adrenaline are still coursing through my body. Mark is going to find me.

     "I can't do this anymore," I sob, sniffling.

     "You only have a couple more days before you can start therapy. You're gonna get help soon, I promise," she promises.

     She leaves momentarily. Every shadow or light makes me shudder in fear. It could be Mark. He could be lurking around somewhere. Mom comes in with water and a tissue. I slowly sip the water, trying not to gain too much water weight.

     I'm exhausted from the night terror. Mom takes away the glass once she sees me zoning out so I don't spill it everywhere and I can see her leave the room. I turn back on my side, shaken up, and fall back asleep.

~~~~~

     "Lilly, time to get ready for NYC!" Mom whispers, gently rubbing my shoulder.

     "Can I take some Venlafaxine?" I mutter, still shaken up from my panic attack.

     "Sure, but can you get dressed and pack up your electronics before?" Mom reasons, and I nod.

     I sit up, yawning. Last night was bad. Immediately, I remember I haven't taken off the tape on the tube. Panicking, I run to the bathroom and grab the medical tape. I take off the tape and clean the skin, quickly replacing it. It feels much fresher.

     I go back to my bedroom and I grab a pink ALDC hoodie, along with a blue flowery sports bra and black sweatpants over black leggings. Luckily, I don't need to do my hair in a ponytail or my makeup. I can just simply brush out my hair and take my medicine, which is Citalopram, Fluvoxamine, my iron pill, and Venlafaxine.

     "Lilly, breakfast!" Mom calls out, and I sigh, reluctantly going to the dining room.

     Another day of hell recovery. I look at the dining table and there's breakfast. I sit down to examine it more closely. It's a lot with so much disgusting food. Oatmeal with brown sugar. Sugar is awful. Scrambled eggs with ham. That's not too bad. Orange juice. At least it's not apple juice. Water. Water is... well... water.

     Start with the hardest things: the oatmeal and the orange juice. I start with the oatmeal. Mom gets her eggs and oatmeal and sits down with me. I slowly take a bite. The oatmeal texture is bad. I never liked it. And now I have a bowl full of it. If you don't like it, don't eat it, Lilliana.

     I sigh. I need to get this over with. Think about dance, think about dance, think about dance. One bite, two bite, three bite. It's so hard. I can't spend too much time on it, though, if we want to get there on time. That motivates me enough to finish up the oatmeal.

     "I'm sorry, Lilly-Bug. That's what the hospital meal plan sent over. You handled it like a champ, though," Mom apologizes, and I just nod, trying to drink my orange juice.

     I feel so heavy and fat as I slowly finish up my orange juice. The last part is my eggs with ham. It's ninety calories with a little spice. It's not too bad. Eggs are a little easier to finish.

     "Good job. Now go get your suitcase, your carry-on, everything you may need because we need to head out now," Mom orders, and I nod.

     I pass the toilet. Half of my mind wants myself to go in there and throw up. But I can't ruin this second chance I have at Dance Moms. I go back to my room and grab my dance bag, my suitcase, quickly pack up my hair, medicine, and makeup stuff in a second carry-on, grab my phone and my water bottle, and I go back out to the main room, putting on my shoes.