Abigail

Prologue.

Prologue.

Age 14.

My eyes shut again as a wave of tiredness washed over me. Tiredness. How can one possibly be too tired to stay awake once they've only just awoken? It just doesn't make sense. But, nonetheless, I was tired.

It's been happening a lot lately, you know, feeling tired. My body is drained. I've lost my appetite too; food isn't really an option right now. It's not like I'm starving myself, because I'm not. I'm just simply not hungry.

Mum thinks I'm catching the flu or something. It's often that I'll awake wet through with sweat. And I don't mean a little sweaty - I wake drenched.

"Abby, sweetheart," Mum's voice came from outside my door. "Abby," she walked in; "I've called the doctor. You have an appointment in roughly an hour, so if you want to get ready, that'll be great."

I frowned. I wasn't that sick that I needed to visit the doctor. "But mum-"

"No, no buts. You need to go - you've been like this for days. Please, Abby," she pleaded with me.

I sighed, "Fine."

"Do you need any help?" She asked as she ran her fingers through her medium-length, blonde hair.

I shook my head.

"Okay Hun, just shout if you change your mind." And with that, she was gone.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead with a tissue, and then slowly got to my feet. My joggers and a hoodie were pulled out of my wardrobe and I proceeded to put them on. I stumbled over to my mirror, cringing at what stared back at me.

My long, platinum blonde hair had been shoved back into a ponytail, in order to reduce some of the sweating. I focused on my eyes. Once upon a time, they were blue and full of life, but now? Now, all they showed was tiredness and they were exceptionally dull.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I'm fat, but I've definitely lost a load of weight. My clothes don't even fit me anymore. Something isn't right... But then again, I haven't eaten for a week or two so it's probably due to that. I hope that's the case, anyway.

I slipped on my comfy vans and then made my way downstairs, slowly but surely. My eyes flickered to my brother whom sat at the table, tapping away on his iPad. I slid into the seat beside him.

"Noah."

His eyes met mine and I watched him tug his earphones out. "Abby, hey. How are you?" His eyes were now laced with concern.

I smiled weakly. "I'm okay..."

"No you're not; you're not okay at all."

"I am."

"No Abby, you're not. Look at yourself," he frowned at me.

Meet Noah, my sixteen year old brother - just two years older than myself. Noah has light brown hair which he has styled in a messy way. His eyes are just like mine - blue. A couple of freckles lined the bridge of his nose. Noah's pretty tall too; 6 foot is tall compared to me, anyway.

"I am fine."

"Abigail, stop living in denial. You're not okay or fine and that's why we're taking you to see a doctor," he firmly told me.

"Fine," I hissed.

I guess I just didn't want to admit how I was feeling. I thought that if I hid my problems and my feelings, then they would all go away but Noah and my parents didn't see it like that. I couldn't exactly blame them though.