Black & White

30: Yeah, I fell for that

6 months later

''Can I open my eyes yet?'' I groaned, frustrated by the presence of her sharply manicured nails pressed against my eyelids. I heard her quickly swing her hips so that her car door would shut without the use of her hands. ''Did you turn into Cat Woman overnight or something?'' I added, a hint of playfulness shining through my unhappy tone.

''Shush!'' She hissed in my ear as she slowly guided me to walk forward. There was a strange, salty, yet fresh smell in the air. It felt as though I was in the middle of the woods but right by the seaside at the same time or something.

''Jeez, careful, I'm kind of blind at the moment!'' I muttered out at her as she eagerly pushed me to walk faster.

''Shush!'' She hissed again.

Wow.

''You know if I knew you'd kidnap me to kill me in the middle of nowhere... I would've stayed in the clinic'' I snorted.

It had been 6 months.

Six agonizing yet simply amazing months.

After Tara decided to drag me out of the hole I had dug myself, I was once again admitted into a clinic. A new clinic, not the old one I had been to before with Tara. This clinic was different, that's for sure. Instead of boring group therapy and weird unhelpful exercises, we each had private therapy sessions with the best therapist I had ever met. She, herself, was successfully recovered from a 10-year-long eating disorder. I had to admit, her presence in the course of my rehabilitation was crucial to my recovery. I doubt I would've been this quick to recover without her. She really was a big part of it, for sure.

At first, I thought I knew how everything would go down in this new clinic. But boy, was I wrong. Turned out, I would live in a room paired up with someone who had a different eating disorder than mine. Which I thought was weird because we wouldn't really relate to each other. Turns out, that was the whole point. So I was moved in with an incredibly sweet boy called Harry, who was trying his best to recover from a binge-eating disorder. We soon found ourselves having a lot in common, despite the eating disorder difference.

Our phones were taken away, we had no access to the internet, there were no mirrors anywhere. The best we could do was see our reflection in a frickin' window. Which was hard because the first two months were solely focused on our body image. I wanted to see the changes in my body, but couldn't. And that was a very good thing. The daily therapy sessions dug out your deepest, darkest traumatic experiences. They analyzed everything we through, connecting it to our current suffering. Needless to say, I was kind of pissed at first. But soon enough, I could tell that all their tactics were effective. 

Before I knew it, 6 months flew by and I was a whole different person internally and externally. I started thinking of myself highly, without an ounce of doubt or guilt. Instead, I felt confident, happy, and fine with myself in every way. I felt okay with myself, at last. I was still myself, but an upgraded version of myself. And damn...I felt as if all this time I was simply existing, but now I was alive in a completely unknown way.

''Okay, are you ready?'' Tara failed to hold back an excited giggle.

''Woman, I've been ready for quite a while now!'' I groaned, anxious to see what it was that she had prepared. The past two weeks consisted of her telling me all about the big surprise she planned for when I get discharged. And no matter how hard I tried to make her slip up, she never gave anything away.

''Okay, okay, Ms. Grouchy-pants!'' She huffed before laughing at my visible scowl. My eyes were starting to ache from the pressure of her hands on them. I guess I wasn't the only one who was anxious about the surprise...