It started with a dare (in the works)

It started with a dare {2}

~Two years later~

"You've lost 75 pounds within the past month. Mackenzie, this isn't healthy."

I bite my lower lip as I look at the number on the scale. 95. Deep down I was relieved that I was no longer in the hundreds.

"Do you know what'll happen if you keep losing weight like this?"

"That's just what you doctors do. You try to scare us into thinking things that point blank just aren't true," I testified as I hopped off the scale.

"You're in critical condition, Mackenzie. I'm telling you, if you don't get some meat on your bones you will become deathly ill. What do you have to say about that?"

My eyes narrowed. "Blow me."

His eyebrows rose in surprise.

"I'm totally kidding, that's...I'm kidding."

"Your father called, he's very concerned."

I sigh. Making my father proud has always been a priority of mine, but lately I've been distant from him. After all, I moved to Massachusetts to go to Harvard(yes, I got in) while he lives back at home in Brooklyn. Word got around about my now developed eating disorder, and he completely lost his shit. He offered numerous times to come and visit but I declined each and every time. Heck, I didn't want him to see his daughter, a walking skeleton, like this.

Just the thought of eating makes me want to gag. Why? Because I've trained my body to survive without food. Of course you have to eat to survive, but I only drink protein shakes and that usually fills the void. What caused my eating disorder, you may ask?

Two words: Dean Hardaway.

All throughout middle and high school he constantly bullied me about my weight, to the point where I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror without balling my eyes out. Not that I care about Dean's opinion or anything, it just got a bit overwhelming getting called a fat ass each and every day.

"I will have to inform your dad of your condition, okay?"

I rolled my eyes. "Look, my father is getting pretty old, the last thing he needs to be told is that his precious only child is...well, dying," I informed him smartly.

"But you are dying. Every thing we talk about in here is confidential, that is, unless you are in danger or you're endangering someone else."

"Look, I will pay you $20 if you keep your mouth shut," I bribed him as I pulled out my wallet.

He quickly stopped me. "That won't be nessasarry. I care about your health just as much as your father does, and I just want you to be healthy."

I blew out a long breath. "I've got everything under control. Give me a month and I will gain some weight," I promised.

"Okay Mackenzie, but if not-"

"Got it Doc," I cut him off as I hurried out the door to avoid further conversation.

As I reached the parking lot I lean on my car, arms crossed as I look up at the sky. The fluffy clouds looked like soft cotton balls in the baby blue sky. I opened my trunk and pull out my drawing palette as I lean back on my car. I take a deep breath and start scribbling away.

Birds darted across the sky, flapping their wings and being free. I admire birds, how peaceful they went about. They just glide around like a paintbrush on a canvas, painting their stories with each flap of their wings. I doodled my sketch broadly, my pen flying on the palette effortlessly as I sketched some clouds along with some care free birds. My eyes quickly went to the car that pulled up next to me.

A melancholy vibe washed over the earth as the driver stepped out, slamming his door shut.

"Dean?" I knew he went to Harvard as well, but I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread every time I saw him. What was he doing visiting a psychologist?

He looked at me with harsh green eyes. He had heavy bags under his eyes like he hadn't slept in days. His posture was slumped, and he looked as though he lacked all his confidence. He looked surprised to see me.

"What are you doing here," I asked curiously.

"What are you doing here," he snapped.

"I-, I had an appointment," I answered.

"Cool," he said simply. "So do I. Now if you'd move, I'm running late," he said as he walked past me.

My eyes followed him as he halted and walked towards me again.

"If you tell anybody that I was here, I will personally make your life a living hell," he hissed as he headed towards the building.

I shook my head in disbelief. Hasn't he been doing that for the past seven years?

I hopped into my car, my artistic drive snatched away from me as I turned the key and started the engine.

"What's your secret Dean," I whispered as I watched him enter the building.

HII, I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER<3 I'VE BEEN WORKING ON CHAPTERS SO I WILL DEFINITELY GET THOSE TO YOU SOON. THANKS FOR READING!<3 -@Punklern