Reflections

Chapter 1

Monday

5:00 A.M.

Going to therapy has become a weekly thing now. Every Monday, the twins get sent off to school and my step mother drives me 30 minutes from the house, to my appointment.

I didn't want to crawl out of bed this morning, here in New York the temperature has been very cold this year. For someone who easily gets freezing, this isn't a good thing. My last therapy appointment went so bad, that the entire drive home was a silent and hateful (from me to the world) movement. Carmen told me I was getting smaller, obviously, that's why I'm not eating.

Which was a red flag for her, she briefly mentioned getting re-hospitalized, and I knew it wasn't an option.

The warmth of the heating blanket, and two full comforters, kept me under them a little bit longer than I needed to be.

I should already be out of bed, getting dressed and heading downstairs to force something through me.

But instead, I reached under my pillow and pulled out my cell, sending a quick text message to Kyle, the basically love of my life.

It was a quick and brief text, 'Hey- awake.'

I scrolled through the messages he had left me throughout the night.

'Be sure to get at least 8 hours of sleep baby.'

'The sun is going to shine tomorrow.'

'Please eat something and remember our promise.'

I put my phone back down, and sat up in bed, my shoulder length once jet black and beautiful hair was now thinned and a dull brown-shit like color. It framed my thin and pale washed out face. My eyes were as dull as my hair, a gross brown. My father once said they looked like chestnuts.

I call bull.

My mother and father left me when I was 14. First, when I was 10 they broke up. It shattered the idea of love even existing to me. Then when I was 14, they were taking me our first family therapy session.

That's when I was diagnosed with anorexia, and depression.

After that, they stopped wanting to talk to me about it. My mother flew off to some sandy beach, and my father went off with my step mother.

I couldn't chose who to go with.

Now he spends his days working, and when he comes home, its an awkward sit down for family dinner and 'How is Cami?- Your mother said she loves you.'

5:30 A.M.

My feet gently touched the carpet in my room it wasn't cold, but it wasn't as warm as my bed was. I pushed myself up and stood solid for a few good moments, directly in front of me, stood a full length mirror, written across the top, in my old favorite lipstick were the words,

'She thought she was pretty, but I told her she was beautiful.'

The words brought a small smile to my face, even when he wasn't here.. he was still trying to make me feel better about myself. The girl in the mirror in front of me was a little off putting. But oddly enough, I loved the image, I was getting skinnier. I was getting stronger, that's what Ana said.

6:00 A.M.

After a extremely hot shower, and two layers of clothing, I was forcing myself down the steps of the two story home that we recently forced ourselves into.

By recently I mean six years ago.

My little siblings, sat beside each other, shoveling breakfast down their throats.

Jaylen, the boy, was eating frosted flakes, almost two cups of them, (296 calories), which were soaked in milk, (103 calories).

Kaylen, his sister counterpart was eating two strawberry pop tarts, (200 calories).

Everyone's eyes turned to me as I came into the room. It was like this every morning, I would avoid eating, and me and Monica (my step mother) would get into a heated argument about how breakfast was needed, most definitely on Mondays.

Instead of wanting to listen to her, I took in a deep breath and grabbed two rice cakes, (70 calories) and the jar of peanut butter. Today was the day I would make everyone believe I would be getting better, I wanted-

'No. You wanted to be skinny.' I didn't move a muscle as her voice crept into my ears, Ana was awake. 'Peanut butter? Really?' She was already judging me. It was like this every morning.

Carmen told me 'Ana' was just a name I gave to a voice in my head, but it made sense to me that she was real. I sat down and opened the lid to the glob of fat. Monica slowly handed me a spoon, a look of curiosity was written directly across her face.

I never ate breakfast, and here I was, sitting with my siblings, and eating.

I ate slowly, forcing eat bite down while Monica started to get the twins ready for school, when she left I would be able to run next door and spend an hour or so with Kyle. Two if I was lucky.

7:30 A.M.

I stood at the front door as Monica's car pulled away, I stared at it until it turned the corner towards the twins school.

I didn't bother putting socks on as I slipped on Kyles house shoes from under my bed. He lived a few houses down from me, and his parents are out of town until tonight when he goes and gets them from the airport.

Letting myself into the house, the smell of bacon and eggs upturned my stomach as I made my way to the kitchen. With his back faced towards me, the nineteen year old high school swimmer stood in front of the stove, shirtless. Wearing long night pants covered in batman symbols.

"You know one day, I'm going to think you're an intruder." He shook his head softly, turning to face me. His icy blue eyes caught mine and for only a moment neither of us moved.

God I love him.

He found me one day after school, clinging to my backpack full of depression letters and Xanax.

I've clung to him ever since. I guess he clung back, because every time we saw each other we just starred in awe.

That is until he looked me up and down and tilted his head.

"You ate breakfast?" The way he asked threw me off. How did he know?

"I-.. yeah.. a little bit." My voice was a little off putting and he moved across the kitchen in almost a second before wrapping his arms around me, pulling me into a tight, yet gentle hug.

"I'm proud of you." His voice was reassuring, and extremely calming.

I sat and watched him eat his breakfast quietly, just being with him makes me feel a little bit better about myself.

Two weeks ago he had made me promise I would start eating, that I would try to recover.

We've argued about it twice now. But, I guess I have to do it.

The hour and thirty minutes flew by too fast.