To The Boy with Hazel Eyes; e.d

Life at home

"Another one, Lennon? Really?" My therapist, Dr.Oliver questioned my decisions leading up to this moment.

I shift on the hospital bed, avoiding my therapist and my doctor's eye contact by looking out the window.

"She won't live much longer if she doesn't change. Her digestive system is already shit and her heart will be next." Dr.Sanchez told my therapist, stating the obvious.

He might be one of the best looking men i've ever seen, and he might have a medical degree, but the man constantly sounds like a teenager that took one biology class and all of a sudden knew everything.

He was young for a doctor, but that's because his photographic memory helped him skipped a bunch of grades when he was a kid.

I mean, he's still hot for a 28 year old.

I look up at both of them, guilt rushing over me.

"I'm completely fine! Just a bit underweight! I'm eating more than I used to!" I defend myself, hopping that I've convinced them.

Dr.Oliver shook her head, leaning over on my bed. "Lennon, sweetie, you're five foot five and weigh eighty-five pounds, you eat like a bird. I see your diet diary, you barely eat forty calories a day. All you eat is watermelon or celery, and it's not in big portion." She scolds me, moving away from me. "Plus, your sister told me about the laxatives underneath your bed."

Fucking Marilyn. She's always going through my shit.

"Listen, obviously the dietician and the diary didn't work..." She looked at Dr.Sanchez's green eyes. "There's only one option left. Institution."

"Oh fuck no." I quickly interject, bolting from my laying position to a sitting position.

Bad idea, head rush.

"Relax, Beatle." She quickly runs to my side, helping me up. "It's just for a few months. We don't want you to die via starvation. Plus, if we can get the base of your problem, which is controlling your OCD, you'll be out within weeks." She said, her blue eyes looking into my brown ones.

I sighed, clearly annoyed. Great, now i've gone officially crazy.

"What does my mom think about this? Is she even here?" I asked, laying back on my bed, looking around.

They looked at each other, a soft yet sad look on their faces.

"Your mother had a meeting to attend." Dr.Sanchez spoke softly.

Of course she did. I have a seizure and she's at work. I swear that woman puts her career over her children.

"For what? The two days that I've been here?"

"She was here the first night you had your seizure. And your sister has been here everyday." Dr.Sanchez explained further, coming close, giving my shoulder a light squeeze.

"But we've got consent from your mother and your father while you were recovering from your seizure." he explained, moving towards the table to pick up his clipboard.

"My dad is in Dubai and is barely in my life, I doubt he cares." I mumbled, crossing my arms.

Dr.Oliver gave me a sad look. She's always been a mother figure to me. She's been my therapist for three years, mainly for my OCD, but quickly took into my eating disorder as well. She's been by my side ever since. She's more active in my life than my actual mother.

"Look, we'll talk with the New Jersey Mental Institute and we will get you settled in in 3 days." She explained. "You'll be going home tonight but your sister will be keeping a close eye on you while your at home."