Is This Our Second Chance

Chapter 12

The days that followed the game flash by in a blur. The energy shifts from school spirit to the romance of Prom that is right around the corner. I can't shake the feeling that something isn't right.

As I lay in bed staring up at the ceiling lost in thought, it comes to me. My dress for prom. I haven't tried it on in a while to make sure it still fits. In a panic I throw open my closet door and pull out the garment back. I unzip it to reveal a gorgeous blush strapless dress.

I shed my clothes and carefully remove it from the garment bag and pull the zipper down. I step into the dress and it easily slips up my thighs and over my butt. My sigh of relief gets caught in my throat though as it gets tighter and tighter as I pull it up and into place over my chest. Reaching behind myself to pull the zipper up, it stops a few inches short from the top. The dress no longer fits.

My panic attack takes over faster than a train speeding down train tracks. I take the dress off and slide to the floor in defeat. I cry out my panic attack in ugly sobs.

I must lose a couple pounds and fast is the only thought that starts playing on repeat in my mind.

"You know what you have to do." The all too familiar voice inside my head keeps repeating.

I gather myself up and put on some running clothes. I shove my earbuds into my ears and jog down the stairs and out of the house. Running is the best way to burn calories and shed fat.

"You're going to have to run a lot between now and prom to shed these pounds." The voice inside my head tells me. "You've let yourself get careless."

"I know, I haven't been paying attention." I say to the voice frustratingly.

"You better work for it, and fast. You want to make sure your accepted and pretty. Remember, to be pretty, you don't eat. Pretty girls don't eat," The voice tauntingly whispers in my head.

Cranking up the volume in my headphones, I push myself harder to finish a five-mile run as fast as I can.

I collapse in my front yard gasping for air.

"See, if you do that every day, you'll shed those pesky pounds and stay pretty." I shudder at the voice inside my head.

Later that evening, I prepare dinner for my mother and sister. My appetite isn't currently present. Deep down, I know that I'm slipping down the rabbit hole. But I can't seem to get a grip to pull myself out of it.

I set the table and yell out for them to join me. I put just enough pasta on my plate for show and begin to twirl it around on my fork. Occasionally taking sips of water. I notice my sister watching me with clever eyes, so I shove a bite of pasta in my mouth and smile at her. This seems to satisfy her as she begins to finish her supper in silence. My mother, however, is not in the mood for silence.

"What's wrong with you now?" Her tone is sharp as a knife.

I quietly shake my head to tell her nothing.

"Did that boy finally realize he can do so much better than you?" She throws her glass of water at the wall causing the glass to shatter. "You can't possibly think that I haven't noticed you putting on some weight?" Her eyes are a black abyss.

I hear my sister gasp as she tries to hide her face away from the situation. I want nothing more than to take her away from here.

"It's only been a few pounds. I'm not getting fat or anything." I struggle to defend myself.

Her laugh is sinister. "Only a few? I think you should check the scale again." She continues to chuckle as she shoves away from the table and leaves the room.

"Stella, please don't listen to her." Carly starts pleading with me in whispers. "You know she's wrong".

I shake my head at her and leave the dining room to head up to my room and into my bathroom. I kneel to floor and pull my hair back and stick my fingers down my throat to throw up. Tears begin to pour out of my eyes and down my cheeks.

"Good," whispers the voice over, and over again. "I'm here to help you, let me take control," It whispers again.

I stand up and stare at myself in the mirror. Lifting my shirt, I feel around my stomach and pinch at the fat. In a numb state, I make my way to my bed and curl up into a ball. I silently lay there crying until the darkness engulfs me.

***

I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. It's been a few hours since I last heard from Stella. She sounded off on the phone. Something's wrong and I can tell she's closing herself off, but I can't tell why.

I dial Kayla's number and wait for her to pick up.

"Hey! How's it going?" She sings through the line.

"It's hard to say. Have you heard from Stella today?" I pinch the bridge of my nose trying not to sound panicked.

"No, not today. Why did something happen?" I can here her start to get worried.

"I'm not sure. I've just noticed the last few days how she's been getting quieter and not saying much. Then today I talked to her on the phone, and she seemed like she wasn't even listening. It doesn't sound like her is all." I run my hand through my hair in frustration. Just saying it all out loud makes me realize that something more is going on.

"Yeah, I've noticed her getting quieter too. I just figured she would open up to you about it since you guys are in such a good place."

"Well, she hasn't told me anything. What normally happens to cause this behavior?" I'm pretty sure I already know the answer though.

I hear Kayla sigh. "Typically, it's either her eating disorder spikes or her depression. Since you were a leading cause of her depression before, I think it's safe to go with her eating disorder."

"I deserved that comment. Anyway, how has she snapped out of this in the past? Is there anything I should do right off the bat?" I sigh as my suspicions are confirmed.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. She just typically starts to come out of it on her own. It takes a few days, but she comes around. I normally just try to keep things normal for her." I hear Kayla's stress loud and clear.

"That's not going to work for me." I growl through the phone.

"I'm sorry Zach, the only advice I can give you on this is that you just need to be there for her." Kayla barely gets the words out before I end the call abruptly.

I throw my phone on my bed and pace my bedroom back and forth. The desire to punch or break something was appealing at this point. I sit down on my bed with my head in my hands.

After a few moments I start to devise a plan for the rest of the week.

I'm not going to let her be alone for any length of time for the next few days. I have to keep an eye on her and look for an opening to help.