Hunger

t w e n t y - n i n e

"So," he says adjusting himself on the chair. "How are you feeling today?" He asks smiling.

I play with the edge of my skirt, avoiding eye contact with him. It felt strange being alone with him today.

"Okay I guess." I reply half smiling.

"Hmmm." He murmurs writing something down on his notebook. How I hate when he does that. "Did you eat today?" He asks, and I sigh, knowing he was going to ask me that sooner or later.

"Yes." I lie, hoping he would believe me.

He doesn't say anything, but starts writing again on the paper, and I frown trying to see what he was writing, but he was too far away.

"What did you eat?" He asks, and it takes me a few seconds to come up with an answer. He writes, once again and I grow impatient wanting to know what he thinks.

"Tell me a little bit about your family." He says, and I frown.

"I had an answer to that question." I say exasperated.

"You did?" He asks smiling. Why does he keep smiling? This is not funny.

"Yes." I whisper crossing my arms. "I had sushi for lunch, tons of it." I lie with a fake smile. "And then my friend bought me a muffin. It was delicious." I say sarcastically rolling my eyes.

He stares at me and smiles once again. This dude is worse than Christopher. Is he really paying him? He could do this for free.

"What friend?" He asks seriously now. Did Christopher tell him about that too? "Tell me about your friends. Do you talk to them about this?"

"This meaning what?" I ask annoyed.

"Your eating disorder."

I stay silent and he writes something again on the paper, what a shocker. I still can't say it out-loud. That word, well words, were a label I didn't want in my life.

"First step to getting better is acceptance." He continues, taking his glasses off. "Say it."

"Say what?" I ask confused.

"I'm sick."

"I'm not saying that." I whisper resting my head on the back of the couch.

"Why?" He asks, the notebook no longer in his hand.

"Because," I frown not knowing what to say. I know what I feel and what I thought, but I can't explain it out loud.

"Because you're not?" He asks raising his brows.

"So," I say with a fake smile. "my parents." I whisper. "Not the best I have to say. My mother married Christopher's father when mine went to jail. Haven't talked to him in a while."

He sighs, defeated, but glad that he got something out of me that wasn't a lie. "Do you miss him?" He asks crossing his arms.

"My father?" I ask, and he nods. "Sometimes." I say, feeling extremely depressed. "He would care if he knew I was sick." I murmur staring at the ceiling.

He smiles, and I frown confused. "What?" I ask exasperated.

He doesn't say anything and goes back to being his monotonous self. "You think your mother doesn't care that you're sick?" He asks, grabbing his notebook once again.

"I know." I reply getting angry, just thinking about her.

"Why's that?"

"Because she just doesn't care." I answer, sitting straight again. "She wants me to be thin, she's not satisfied with my current weight, she wants me to lose more." I shout. "I mean, the least she could do is pretend, just a little bit, but she doesn't. I think the real reason why she behaves the way she does is because she's actually unhappy with herself and fucking me up is her twisted way of getting what she always wanted but never had." I finish feeling extremely angry.

He stares at me, empathy in his eyes, but doesn't say anything. I start regretting what I said and was about to take it back when he talked. "So, you do it because of her?"

"What?"

"You don't eat because she's the one that judges you."

"No!" I reply, confused.

"Then why?" He asks throwing the pen on the small table next to him.

"Because!" I say angry. "She's wrong! Everyone is! They think I'm not strong enough, that I'm fat by choice, but now that I proved them wrong they want me to be fat again?" I ask angry. "It doesn't make sense."

"Who told you, you were fat?" He asks intrigued.

"Them!" I continue exasperated.

"Who's them?"

"Everyone!" I say angry. "Mom, coach, Chris, my friends! I remember every word they ever said." I shout.

"Did any of them say it directly to you?" He continues, was he calling me a liar? "Did they ever say you're fat Katherine."

"No, but-

"Then maybe you misinterpreted their words."

"My mom did say it loud and clear." I whisper annoyed, wanting to cry. "But the others, they said it too, even if it wasn't word by word."

"So, we're back to your mother." He says.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask frowning, the tears were almost there.

"I just want to know why." He sighs, slowly becoming desperate.

"Know what!"

"The reason why you developed an eating disorder." He replies, loudly, but not enough to be a scream or shout. "It all points back to her, the way she treats you, what she says, she's one of the main factors."

"She's not." I murmur turning to look out the window.

"Then what?"

"You don't get it." I shout angry. "Who are you to judge me or analyze me? You don't know how it feels and you probably never will!"

"That doesn't mean I can't help you."

"No one can!" I cry exasperated. "Don't you get it? It's not that simple." I continue drying my tears. "If it was that simple I would have eaten by now."

"Then why don't you eat?"

"Are you deaf?" I ask frowning. "Haven't you heard any word I have said today? I can't because I'm fat, eating makes me weak. I will not go back to the way I used to be."

"And is that so bad?" He asks frowning. "To be how you used to be? Yourself. You have let everyone chose your life, the way you think, how you see yourself, what you eat. But why do you have to live like this while everyone else lives life okay. Is it fair, for you to be unhappy while the people who judge and treat you wrong go on with their life content? You are proving them right, with every choice you make. If you choose to be this way, it only teaches them that they won. When do you get to win?"

I stay silent staring at him, and flinch when the alarm went off, telling us that our time was over.

"I will see you soon Katherine." He says abruptly closing his notebook, making a loud noise.