"Now, the last thing we want is for her to overeat, but we will suggest she goes on a high carb diet and that, if she skips meals or doesn't eat much during them, you encourage her to eat more. But, the worst thing you can do to her is give her a lot of sugary things with no nutritional value. Try to give her high amounts of protein and carbs. We also want you to monitor her weight as well. We have extra scales if you need one. Jamie is there a specific reason you don't want to eat?"
Yeah, because I look like a fucking whale in everything I wear.
"Not really, it's just whenever I do eat I have terrible gag reflex and its uncomfortable to eat. I also don't get hungry easily."
"Have you every made yourself throw up?"
"Yes," Wyatt grunts.
"Is this true?" the board questions.
"Yes."
"Why?" God, what are they? Psychologist?
"My gag reflex was extremely uncomfortable so I wanted it to stop. No matter the cost." Sounds believable, to me anyway. They nod accepting the lie.
"You guys need to keep a closer eye on her. We don't believe the gag reflex, but won't question it. We saw the cuts and I assume the doctor already recommended a therapist. Thank you for meeting with us. We would like her to come in monthly to check her weight."
"Of course; thank you."
"I think you have one more meeting to go to. Room 16." We head over to room 16, and I hope and pray this meeting is not about me. We arrive and take a seat on various items.
"Hello, thank for meeting with us. We are a board that deals with child abuse recovery. We wanted to talk to you and Wyatt about how to recover from his experiences and how to treat some of his scars, physical and emotional. Based on the pictures the doctor got," the person greets.
"The doctor took pictures?" I ask.
"We consented it," James answered. I nod. Why?
"As I was saying, it was fairly extreme. When did this begin?"
"I was eight, sir."
"And you escaped at age 13."
"Yes, but since then I had gotten in quite a few fights, and I got a little roughed up by the guard in prison." Really Justin?
"You don't need to cover for your father. Which scars are from fights?"
"None sir," Wyatt admits.
"From prison?" He inquires.
"None, I just got bruises."
"Exactly. I'm not going to force or pressure you into sharing what happened; however I would like you to share with someone. And if you want to give us some insight we would appreciate."
"Prison was a luxury. There I knew I would be fed and off the streets," Wyatt shares.
Was this seriously his childhood? That's awful. I feel sick to my stomach. I get up and run to the trash can and empty my stomach. Okay I might have just dry heaved since I haven't eaten in two days but nonetheless.
"Are you okay, baby girl?" Jay asked.
"Yeah."
"You just dry heaved, when was the last time you ate?"
"None of your business."
"You want to change that attitude of do you need help," Jax grumbles. I roll my eyes still leaning over the trash can.
"No. Sorry. I ate an apple two days ago."
"Did you throw the apple up?"
"Yes."
"If you think your ever going to be alone for a meal your delusional. We're also undoing the lock on your bathroom and installing a baby monitor," Jax tells me nodding at the boys for approval. Fine by me, if they want to hear me taking a dump that's their prerogative.
"I just going to wrap this up. Wyatt I suggest talking to someone you trust. And you can apply ointment to the scars to help them heal. My advice for the rest of you is not to force him to do anything. If you do, he will start to act abnormally and probably leave. Do not force him to talk to you or anything. He might have panic attacks, night terrors, etc. If it become excessive, come back here for medication. Got me?"
"Thank you sir," Justin answers.
"Enjoy your evening," the board says as they exit.
We head out to car and John suggests we go to Golden Corral.
We head in and get seated. Everyone goes their separate ways while I go to the salad section and get lettuce.
"I had a feeling this would happen. Good thing I brought you a plate too," James says acting bubbly.
I feel sick to my stomach just looking at that food. He hands me the plate.
"Thanks," I grumble. I started picking at my food the entire time. I ate my small bowl of lettuce. Isn't that enough?
My phone buzzes and quickly look at it. Anything to clear the obvious attention on me. I see a text from Jason.
Jason: Eat or I will come over there and feed you like the toddler your acting like.
I grab my fork and take a bite on Macaroni and Cheese a glower over at him. It taste like gold, but yet, I still cannot enjoy it.
I finally finish half a serving and announce I'm done. Why do they all look angry? That's like three times the amount I usually eat. They should be grateful.
"Don't force her. She has to get in the habit of eating decent portions again. If you force her, she'll throw up because her digestive system is weak," James warns.
"Is anyone done?" the perky waitress asks.
"Yes, ma'am," I answer.
"You sure hun," she asks.
"Yes," I grumble.
She clears my plate.
"Would you like more water?" she offers.
"Yes please," I say so the boys will get off my back. It was already a fight to get water and not a sugary soda. I'm taking it and running. The guys go get dessert and much to my disappointment a small cup of gelatin and a little whipped cream is put in front of me.
"It's healthier and smaller than anyone else would get you," Jay tells me, "eat it."
"Thanks." I say and pick up my fork.
"It's three bites. You better finish it," Jim warns.
I nod and take a bite. I force myself to finish it.
The boys look satisfied and continue their conversation. The check comes and Wyatt grabs for it. Jax grabs his hand before he could reach it and gets it himself.
"You don't have to do that," Jax sighs.
"I want to," Wyatt persists.
"Well, your not." Jax says yanking it from his grasp.
Wyatt drops it for at least a little while. I see him grab Jax's wallet and slip some cash in there. I knew he wouldn't give up that easy.
We head home and I go into my room and see Jay and Wyatt removing my lock.
Why does this have to happen to me?
Edited.
YOU ARE READING
Overprotective Times Ten {1}
Teen Fiction"Yeah, Yeah," he said, "listen to me. You stay the fuck away from him. If he tries to talk to you, run. If he touches you, you tell me and I'll take care of the shit. You got it." "I guess," I said, "but why?" "Don't ask," he told me. "Okay here are...
