Nervosa

Elizabeth

"Elizabeth.", mother said to me, running her fingers through my hair. Through my flooded eyes, I could almost see her crying. "Why did you do this to yourself?", she asked, stroaking my dark locks.

I didn't say anything to her. What would I say? I just listened to her talk.

"You're killing yourself.", she began to sound panicked. "When I told you to lose weight I didnt mean this way.", she said quietly. She looked around to see if anyone had heard. She turned back to me and sighed sadly.

I looked up at the tile cieling, which was blurred by the tears forming in my eyes. I starred at it for a good 45 minutes. I just looked up at them. I was deep in thought, though. My dance instructor would be so mad if I missed the last 2 rehearsals before the show. My mother even tried to tell the doctors to let me out early. That I'd be fine.

"Miss Carol, she cant leave yet. Her body is still rejecting solids and liquids.", he said sympathetically. Mother mistook it for sympathy for her. "If she leaves, she may not make it on these habbits.".

I could see my mother eyeing me from the corner of my eyes, like a designer deciding whether or not to ditch his sketch or work harder on it to fix it. She narrowed her eyes and sighed. She pulled him out of my room for a private chat. My mothers world famous private chats never failed.

"Thank you.", she said to the doctor as she rolled me out of my room in my wheel chair. The doctor watched me roll down that hallway with an uneasy look.

"What time is the rehearsal, Lizzy?", she asked as she helped me into the car. I wrapped my jacket around my arms.

"6 to 10.", I answered. She nodded and shut the door. I stared out the window on the way to ballet. Trees flew past our car, or rather we flew past the trees. They were tall and thin and bent over in the wind, their leaves drifting down like feathers. Weightless.

I couldn't help but notice a shorter tree. It was more like a christmas tree, short and fat and stiff. It reminded me of Amilia, a girl in my ballet.school. She was short and slightly overweight, and was only allowed to be in our class if she worked as a receptionist for our instructor. The group of trees reminded me of the odd one out, Amilia, and how I wish I was the odd one out sometimes.

Sometimes I wish I had never gotten good at ballet. I don't enjoy the pushing it does on my body and mind. The strain. But everyone expects so much of me. They say I could be the best there Is. I can't stop yet, no matter how many hospital trips it takes.