Weightless

32) Family

(1 day later) 6th of July 2017

Greenview Residential Clinic.

Based south east of England, this clinic is catering to those struggling with eating disorders. A mix of a hospital and a treatment centre, there are wards alongside rooms to stay in for those who are not acutely unwell.

For those with anorexia nervosa (see below for more on different eating disorders), food must be introduced carefully and gradually. High calorie nutritional drinks are sometimes part of the diet. Once improvement is made, people are given choice over meals and, on occasion, allowed to cook later on. People have pointed out how important good food is for someone in recovery for an eating disorder, and how 'frozen and vacuumed' food is not helpful; we keep this in mind.

On occasion, if people refused to eat or their low weight was threatening their life, they could be fed through a nasogastric tube. It is a psychologically challenging experience, as ex-patients have claimed it makes them feel "out of control" and "alone". However, on the other side, some say it had worked well; they used the nasogastric tube as an incentive to get better so they wouldn't need it anymore.

"Have you not finished reading that yet?"

Both Mollie's words and the abrupt feeling of the car tyres rolling over a particularly large bump shake Ethan into listening. He looks up, through the window shield, where they're making a left into a dual carriageway.

A similiar dual carriageway he was stood above yesterday when he was considering-

Ethan bites his lip so hard he tastes blood. It's like sucking pennies. It's disgusting, obviously, but it keeps his mind off of everything else.

They haven't spoken about yesterday, nor the early hours of today. Mollie didn't ask why his knuckles were bleeding (he had to make himself sick, he just had to, regardless of consequence), or why he was trembling against the bathtub when she found him. She didn't have to. They had just exchanged equally as tired smiles and had gotten on with it. The most sentimental they'd got was a couple hours in when neither could manage to fall asleep on the sofa.

"I know you're dead set against it," Mollie had said. "But we could go back to see Cal if you want, spend the night round his?"

Ethan trembled under her arm. "No. No, he's sleeping."

"I don't think anybody could sleep in this situation."

Ethan looked up at her. He couldn't think of Cal right then; it made guilt swell up in his stomach and sadness creep. There was the taste of bitter vomit on his tongue. "Have you ever made yourself sick?"

Mollie shook her head. "No."

"Oh, god..."

"But that doesn't mean I haven't considered it. I'm sure everyone has and that's without having the same problems as you."

"I hope so," he said quietly. Then he backtracked. "I mean, I don't hope so, but-"

"I get you," she squeezed him tightly. He felt bloated and like the world was foggy. He couldn't open his eyes wide enough. "We're going to make this better, okay? Tomorrow."

It's tomorrow now. In the words of a - probably - great philosopher somewhere, Ethan thinks: oh, fuck.

Then Ethan snaps out of his thoughts presently - well, 'snaps' is a strong word, in reality he merely managed to pull himself out of this minor type of coma by pure willpower - and turns to Mollie, turning the leaflet over in his grip. "Yes, I'm still reading it. It's, uh, pretty long."