Saving Evan

Chapter 11

A few months after the accident...
Evan's P.O.V.
I was still making myself throw up after meals. I couldn't stop. I was tired of it, and it was starting to scare me. I was starting to have to do it, because whatever I ate would come back up; like my stomach was working in reverse.

I was addicted to it. A strange statement, but it was true. I could not stop. Anything I ate, I'd lose it. My body was getting thinner, and I was getting sick more often.

Yvonne knew about it, and tried to help me stop, but to no avail. My dad didn't know yet because he could get really angry at times.

I would talk to God daily, having to trust that He had a plan for me. Yvonne had gotten saved, and dad was furious.

After mom had died, he blamed her death on God. I had been to little at the time to understand.

My mom had been loving and supportive. She was very athletic, even after having my sister and I. She had died while diving.

Natalie had been on the east coast with her friends, and they were diving. My mom went down, and didn't come back up. She had been in a shallow spot, and had broken her neck. My mom died before she was brought out.

If she saw what I was doing to my body right now, it would have hurt her. But I couldn't stop. No matter how hard I tried. I was truly scared. I had to tell my dad. But he would be angry with me. I was scared of that.

I knew that organizations had been made for people like me. I could see if they had one in town. But it would go back to my dad and he would wonder what I was doing.

I was getting thin enough for my dad to notice, so I had no choice but to tell him. You could see my cheeks getting hollow and my ribs were more prominent. I felt like a bag of trash all the time, dragging myself to and from classes at school, and forcing myself to run. It was hard for me to go to sleep because my body didn't have any nutrients whatsoever. I was needing serious help.

Jesus was my hope. The one I could trust that things would turn out alright. I counted on him to show me what to do. He pointed me towards my dad.

So here I was, standing at eye level with my father, and telling him everything. He yelled at me, called me names, and smacked me. I stood my ground, letting him yell and scream.

But then he stopped when I finally said something in my defense.

"Would mom have wanted it this way? Would she want me to have bulimia? Would she want you hitting me for having a problem?" I had to yell at him to get my point across. His head fell and he collapsed in a chair.

"You know nothing, boy," he growled. 

"Mom wouldn't have liked this. I hate it. I hate myself for doing what I do, I hate how I have to hide it, I hate that I can't stop," I added, "I hate that I can't find someone who can help me. Like you. Like Mom."

"Natalie..." he held his head in his hands and cried. My dad, tough and hardened, crying! I came over and sat next to him.

"God doesn't like this either. He has been trying to get you back, dad, but you don't want to. He would love it if you came back."

My dad was shaking with sobs now, and was gasping.

I hadn't expected him to calm so quickly. I rubbed his shoulder. He continued crying for a few minutes, and finally controlled himself. He grabbed me into a hug. Not a rough hug, but a real father-son hug.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered softly.

"It's okay, dad." I leaned into the hug, remembering the last one he had given me that was so loving was right before mom was buried. The last one.

I went to my room with my cell phone, and sat on my bed. I called Robin, glad to hear her voice. "Hey, guess what?"

"What? Tell me!"

"My dad is back!"

"Back? What do-"

"He is back in Christ!"

Robin gasped. "Really? That's great!"

"Yeah. He was a little upset when I told him about my bulimia."

"Oh. What did he do?"

I sighed. "He hit me."

"What!?!"

"It's okay, Robin!"

"But if you come to school with a visible bruise, they have to investigate it."

I sighed. "He didn't hit me that hard. He just cuffed me on the shoulder. It didn't-"

Robin stopped me. "But he-"

I interrupted her. "He was mad. It didn't hurt. My dad was just upset. My mom's death still bothers him a lot. He told me sorry, and I forgive him. He just needed to find Jesus again."

Robin sighed. "I'm sorry. I just got mad."

"That's okay."

"I have to go now, I have a project that I'm working on." Robin said. I thought of how I needed her. It was like I had to talk to stop myself from throwing up.

"Okay. See you later." I tried not to sound disappointed. Robin said bye, and I hung up. I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Please help me get through this, Lord. I need your guidance and help. Let me be healed. Save me from it, Lord.