Broken

chapter eight

TW: a brief mention of eating disorders. 

As I regain consciousness, I begin to realise where I am; the smell of antiseptic and the beeping of the machines give it away. It's the City Hospital just outside of Rosewood. My mom is sat in the corner of the room in one of the high-backed chairs, a blanket draped over her knees. She notices me waking and is over to me in an instant. Her voice is gentle but she looks worried. I ignore it, distracted by the voices outside my door. I naively assume it's my dad, here from California to see me. But I know that's unlikely. One voice belongs to the doctor, who bursts through the door without a moment's notice, and the other belongs to Ezra. Of course it does.

"Good, you're awake!" the doctor says brightly, and a little too loudly, throwing both his arms in the air.

I notice that Ezra stayed outside, so I assume the next conversation will be personal information that he needn't hear. Personally, it didn't matter to me whether he heard it or not, but doctor's orders trump the patient's wishes. I ask my mom to keep Ezra company while I speak to the doctor. She's not pleased by this; her lips press together in a tight smile and I know I've hit a nerve. But, she doesn't make a scene.

The doctor pulls a chair to the side of my bed and takes the pen from where it was resting behind his ears, jotting information down on the forms attached he has.

"Aria, I'm Doctor Kingston. I'll be overlooking your treatment while you're here and I'll be in charge of any follow-up appointments you have. Sound good?"

I nod.

"Good. Okay, so you're probably wondering why you're here. Your friend explained to the ambulance about the pains you were having, so we did some tests and scans. It seems that everything is fine. Have you been under a lot of stress or anxiety recently?"

I nod, again.

"I think that may be part of the problem. Also, from some of the test results, it seems that you may be suffering from mild symptoms of exhaustion and malnourishment, caused by not eating enough. We can release you later on today. You'll be on bed-rest for a few days and I'll give you a few recommendations to get your health back up to standard. Does that all sound okay?"

"It's fine. Thank you."

"I'm really sorry I have to ask this, but have you been purposely restricting your food intake?"

"What?"

"I have to ask, it's my job." He offers me an apologetic smile.

I shake my head, "It was just due to stress, that's all," I explain truthfully.

"Well, if you would like to restart therapy following on from when you were in California, I would be more than happy to assign you to someone who would be beneficial to your-"

"No," I shake my head.

"You're allowed to have help," he says.

"I know, but I don't need it."

"Okay," he sighs. "Now, Mr Fitz out there has already given us an account of what happened today, but I'd like you to run through your version of things, if that's okay. We'll give this to the school so you won't have to do this when you go back."

I think of my mom outside the door who has learned all of this for the first time. I never told her about Alison or Nicole; I never even mentioned their names. I recount the events from school, knowing I've missed a lot, but not worrying too much about that.