Never Let Me Go

Chapter 17. Would she actually do it?

Two grueling weeks had passed since Tim's visit, each day a seemingly endless cycle of forced meals, therapy sessions, and stolen moments of reprieve. The hospital's white walls had begun to close in around Lucy, suffocating her with their sterility.

Each morning, she'd greet the nurse with a glare, resentment simmering just beneath the surface. Today was no different. The nurse entered her room, a tray of food in hand, and Lucy couldn't help but feel a surge of anger. "Breakfast time," the nurse chirped, setting the tray down on the nightstand. Lucy rolled over, burying her face in her pillow.

"I'm not hungry," she mumbled, her voice muffled by the fabric. The nurse sighed, her expression sympathetic yet resolute. "Lucy, you know the rules. You have to eat something." The battle of wills ensued, but the nurse remained steadfast.

Eventually, Lucy sat up, glaring at the unappetizing array of food. Her eyes landed on the Ensure - the one constant in this hellish routine. She reached for it reluctantly, her hand shaking. "It's okay," Tim's words echoed in her mind, "you're stronger than you think." With a deep breath, she opened the bottle and took a sip, the taste no longer foreign but still far from comforting.

As she finished the last drop, she handed it back to the nurse, her defiance replaced by exhaustion. "I hate this," she whispered, her voice cracking. The nurse gave her a sad smile. "I know, dear. But remember why you're here. We're helping you get better."

Lucy nodded, unable to find the energy to argue. She knew the nurse was right, but that didn't make it any easier.

Dragging herself out of bed, she prepared for another day in this purgatory, clinging to the hope that one day, she'd be free of her eating disorder's cruel grasp.

Lucy trudged towards the therapy room, her steps heavy with dread. Miss Wilson, a kind-faced woman with silver hair and gentle eyes, awaited her arrival.

Despite Miss Wilson's warm demeanor, Lucy found herself unable to open up during their sessions. The thought of sharing her darkest secrets - the abuse, the self-harm, the eating disorder - left her feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Instead, she opted for silence, allowing the allotted time to tick away unused. Miss Wilson, however, remained undeterred. She'd sit across from Lucy, her notepad and pen poised, offering gentle prompts and encouragement.

"Lucy," she began today's session, her voice soft yet insistent, "we can't help you unless you let us in." Lucy stared blankly ahead, her arms crossed defensively. "There's nothing to talk about," she lied, her voice hollow. Miss Wilson sighed, setting her pen down. "I understand that it's difficult, but we're here to support you.

You don't have to carry this burden alone." Lucy's eyes flickered with something akin to longing, but she quickly suppressed it. "I'm fine," she insisted, her tone flat.

Miss Wilson studied her for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Alright, Lucy. But know that when you're ready, I'll be here to listen."

The rest of the session passed in silence, the tension in the room palpable. As the clock struck the hour, Lucy rose, grateful for the reprieve.

Yet, as she walked away, she couldn't help but wonder if one day, she'd find the courage to truly open up to Miss Wilson.

Lucy entered the cafeteria, her eyes scanning the sea of faces for a friendly one - but nobody even spoke to her. Disappointment settled in her chest like a stone as she made her way to an empty table.