Lost and Found

Chapter Three

Davis quickly sits up upon hearing his name from a sickeningly sweet, almost sarcastic sounding, voice from his doorway. A shorter girl stands there, arms wrapped around herself and a playful smirk on her thin face. She has a cropped pink sweatshirt, showing off her all too skinny stomach, basically hanging off her shoulders. A black skater skirt was placed loosely around her waist and came down to a little above her knees, fishnet tights hugged her skinny legs, and her shoes were black combat boots with roses scattered around the sides. The boots match her black beanie with a single rose in the front and her fire red hair that sits on her shoulders neatly.

When Davis fails to respond, she walks into the room and sits on the desk chair, crossing her legs and clasping her hands together and leaning forward. Davis sighs and lays on his back, ignoring the girl completely and going back to daydreaming. "You look like a shrink." He says after a few minutes of realizing she wasn't going away until he talked to her.

"Wow, you sure know how to make good first impressions. Now, let's see how quickly I can find things out about you," She straightens her back and looks over Davis, giving him time to sit up and get comfortable in a sitting position. He does this and tilts his head in confusion. "Okay, well, you're Davis Avery, you're, hmm, 19 years old. Congrats, you're older than me and you're an artist. Let me guess," She pauses and look's over him again. "You're here because of your pill addiction and because you almost overdosed," She finishes and crosses her arms, leaning back again and smirking. "How'd I do?"

Davis stares at her in disbelief. How could she have possibly figured all of that out about him by a few looks? "How did you-"

"You look mature, but you also have a pretty baby face. I figured you were either 18 or close to it so I picked a random age. Your hands are callused. You do something art related and because you rub your wrists every few minutes, I'm going to have to go with an artist. You're holding your stomach due to it being in pain. And because you just came from a hospital, you either ate the food or had your stomach pumped. You wouldn't have gone to the hospital unless someone found you passed out near a bottle of the pills you took." She stands up and stretched, arching her back and reaching to nothing in particular with her arms.

"I can tell you're pretty smart just by that, but yes, you're correct. Now, what's your damage?" Davis stands up and looks at her. He's a good 4 inches taller than her so he has to look down in order to see her. She puts her hands on her hips and looks up at him like it's the most obvious thing in the world. To most, it is. To Davis, someone who knows nothing about mental health, however, it's not.

"People say I'm anorexic," She look's down and plays with the hem of her shirt. "But I don't see it. I don't think I'm all that skinny," She looks up with unreadable eyes, but Davis sees hope. "Do you?"

"If anything I think you're too skinny," She opens her mouth like she's going to object, but Davis puts his hand up in rejection. "No, I'm not saying that because I have too. Quite frankly, I couldn't care less about what others want me to say. I'm telling you what I think and I personally think you need to eat something. Now, are you going to tell me your name or do I have to make up some ridiculous nickname for you?" Davis finishes with a ghost of a smile.

"Oh, I'm Ziva, but most call me Ziv or Z. Anyway, I originally came here to invite you to have dinner with me, Harper and Noah."

Davis tilts his head in confusion. "Who's Harper and Noah?"

"They're nice, everyone seems 's to love them. They're dating so beware that." Davis nods and looks around his room once more. He thinks about grabbing the sketchbook on the desk but decides against it, images of the burning letting filling his thoughts, pushing the sketchbook aside. Z grabs his slightly loose sleeve and drags him to what he assumes to be the cafeteria.