Saved By Demi Lovato (Saved Series- Book 1)

Chapter 9

A loud knock on the door wakes me not a minute after 6:30. I climb out of bed and get changed in the middle of the room before waking Jasmine up. She is a very deep sleeper, I can tell.

 Dana comes into the room with two protein shakes in hand. "As long as breakfast goes well, you can both eat in the cafeteria for lunch," she says.

 I wouldn't care either way, but there's probably more ways to hide how much food you're eating in a cafeteria.

I bring the cup up to my mouth and part my slightly chapped lips.

 You're going to gain weight! Fat cow! You are so disgusting!

 I gasp as the plastic cup, still full, slips through my sweaty hand and lands on the floor, splattering a small amount onto my clothes as it lands on the floor.

Jasmine looks up at me, worried, about one swallow into her own shake. Dana, on the other hand, looks upset.

 "I'm sorry!" I look at the mess I'd made in embarrassment. "I can clean up the mess."

"I will," Dana says. "You can go to room 116 and eat with your therapist watching."

I sigh and leave the room. So much for eating the cafeteria. I guess there really is something wring with me. Maybe I do belong here. Maybe I am crazy.

 The therapist welcomes me into the room and I sit down in the plush seat.

 "Why are you here?" she asks.

 "I spilled my breakfast," I reply.

 "Why did you spill it?"

"I don't know."

 "Well, I have another one for you, but first, what did you feel when it dropped?"

 I really don't want to be honest; I don't want to talk to her at all. Still, I answer. "Like, now I know that there's really something wrong with me... just like everyone else is saying."

 "Well, it may not feel great now, but once you can accept that, this whole process will be much easier for you. Understanding that we have a problem is the first step in recovery."

 "I don't want to get better," I say. Why did I say that? Now she's going to try to convince me that I want to recover.

"No one really does, but once you've recovered further, you'll start to feel free. Now, are you ready to have breakfast?" she asks.

 "I guess."

After I finish my protein shake, we continue talking.

"When did you start restricting your food?" she questions.

 "Well, as a skater, I had to eat certain foods anyways. I think it just came from that."

 "Well, people who figure skate, dance, and do gymnastics make up a lot of the people with eating disorders, so I'm not surprised. Once you're better, do you want to go back to skating?"

"I'm not sure," I reply. "I'm tired of what skating all involves, and I hate being watched."

"Why did you keep going, then... if you don't enjoy it anymore?" she asks.

"Because everyone was so proud of me. I want my parents to be proud."

"What do you enjoy doing?"

 "Singing," I reply, "but what if my parents don't understand that?"

 "Well, Sam, I've met your parents and I think that they would understand. If you'd like, we can tell them when they come to visit tomorrow. It's Saturday, so a lot of parents come, and I'm sure yours will."

"Okay."

 I'm excused from the session and make my way to my room, where I will be eating lunch. Dana will watch me and me alone, because Jasmine will be in the cafeteria. Why do I fail at everything I do?

 Lunch is another smoothie because they say it's easier to get used to drinking than eating. This place is ruining me, and I have started to get stomach aches and feel a lot more hunger. Still, after being honest with the therapist, maybe I do want to try to get better. If it means I can sing, it could be worth it.

After lunch, there is something called group therapy. It's where a bunch of the people here (so far, I've only seen girls) have to talk to each other about their feelings. That seems to be all this place is and it seems more and more like rehab every day.

  "So, how long has everyone been here?" an older woman asks. I'm surprised that someone her age is here. It almost makes me feel a little better.

 "I've been here for 2 months already." I look at a girl who is as small as a stick. She actually looks extremely sick and I hope that I don't end up here for that long.

The conversation continues very similarly. We mostly talk about this place and a little bit about our homes. I say maybe two words, but that's fine by me.

 Afterwards, we have some "free" time and I go to a music room and practice singing. I don't want to lose the only other thing I'm good at while I'm here.