Hunger

t h i r t y - t h r e e

He frowns, not knowing what to say. I know I did the right thing by telling him, but why was he all silent. "Why did you do it?" He asks, not writing anything down.

"I don't know." I reply shrugging, I truly didn't. "I was in that room all alone, the equipment around me, it felt like it was staring at me, wondering why I wasn't using them? So, I used them."

"And afterwards, did it make you feel better?" He asks concerned in his voice.

"No." I sigh. "I felt awful! Like I did something wrong, like I was betraying you all."

"Betraying who?"

"I don't know, you, mom, Chris." I whisper feeling guilty again. "I didn't tell him, though." I reply sitting up. "I follow your advice and told them about my problem, so I couldn't add another thing to that in the same day."

"I'm proud of you." He says with a smile. "Not about the exercise, that I'm concerned about, but you finally opened up about something you truly feared. Now you're one step closer to winning."

"I still don't get your stupid metaphor." I reply rolling my eyes. "When exactly do I get to win whatever it is you keep talking about?"

"You will know." He replies shrugging, a small smile on his lips. "I can assure you, you will know when you won the battle."

"Whatever!" I reply standing up. "According to that clock our time is up."

"Take care Katherine." He says closing his notebook. "I will see you soon."

I nod and leave. Relieved that I got that out of my chest. Just a few weeks ago I was obsessed with exercising and glad every time I had the chance to do it; but now I don't find joy in that anymore. Only regret and shame. What is wrong with me?

I get inside Christopher's car and stay silent, pretending to be mad at him. Well, I was actually mad, but it's his fault. I'm glad he's looking for someone, but did it have to be her? The girl that hates my guts and is extremely annoying.

"How did it go?" He asks, and I quickly roll my eyes.

"Okay." I reply avoiding conversation.

He sighs and stares at me, knowing that I was mad. I should have asked Nathaniel for a ride home.

"You're still mad at me?" He asks, now him being the annoyed one.

"Whatever." I say taking my headphones out.

"Can you have a normal conversation with me for once?" He says loudly enough to make me turn to face him.

"No." I say untangling my stupid headphones.

"I really didn't miss this." He shouts angry.

"What!"

"You!" He says exasperated. "You're back to your bitch self."

I stare at him in disbelief. What's that supposed to mean?

"Shut up." I say crossing my arms.

"I think the only positive thing about your eating disorder was the fact that it gave you emotions and turned you into a human being." He continues, stopping at a red light. "I guess this is who you truly are, just a really annoying girl, and now I remember why I hated you that much."

I look at him, holding back my tears. Was that true? If I get better, I will be an awful human being? Will he and Nate not like me anymore?

"Consider my feelings for you gone." He mutters with disgust. "Even Melanie is more tolerable than you."

I don't say anything after that and bit my tongue the whole ride home to avoid crying. Focusing on that pain was easier than focusing on the pain inside.

I get out of the car, and throw the door as hard as possible, hoping to maybe break the window. If he wanted to hurt me and make me feel like trash he achieved it. I was back to the old me, probably the same weight too. So, I went upstairs and did the thing I've been avoiding this week. Weighing myself.

As I got inside my room, the tears escaped my eyes like a river. It felt awful, like someone had just beat the shit out of me, literally. I close and lock the door behind me, not wanting to see anyone, and quickly undressing myself.

It was there, the same place I left it three weeks ago when I last weighed myself. I take a step on top, and close my eyes scared of knowing the truth. Getting a wave of the feelings I thought I had left in the past.

128 pounds.

I stared at it for a while, realizing how much weight I had gained. Eleven pounds, I was back to being fat. All the hard work I achieved in a month was starting to slowly disappear, and as people kept telling me I looked better, I only felt worse.

I was fooling myself for thinking that eating was a smart choice. And the shame I felt for exercising two days ago was becoming regret, regret of not doing more when I had the chance.

If mom was able to weigh almost less than a hundred pounds, why can't I? Why do I have to be fat and gain weight, when people around me are thinner and don't need to worry about it?

When was I going to win the battle? Like doctor Baize said. Cause right now it felt like I was losing, losing it all. I'm back to square one, and it felt worse than before. I was better when I was sick, Chris said it. Nate will probably hate me if I turn back to who I used to be, personally and physically. So why should I get better?

I hear a knock on my door, and avoid it, taking a sit on my bed.

"Katherine." Says Christopher through the door. "I didn't mean that!" He says desperate. "Open the door so we can talk." He whispers.

"Go away." I shout cleaning my tears.

"Please!" He begs, wiggling the doorknob, but failing miserably since it was locked. "I didn't mean it."

I stay quiet, cleaning my tears. Debating if all of this, recovery, was worth it.