Twelve days.
Twelve horrific, blood vomit filled, food being pumped into my body days.
Twelve days of doctors and nurses waking me up every five minutes, to make sure. I wasn't going to go and off myself with whatever I was going to find useful in this hell of a room.
This wasn't even a nice room, the skaters filled it with flowers on the fifth day, but on the eleventh day they began to wilt and so did I.
It no longer became just a game it was much more than that now.
I wasn't doing it to beat Grace at her own idea, and game. No, I needed to be skinnier. I craved it so much. The fat on my legs needed to be gone. I cried every time I undressed.
Day Twelve.
I got out of that hell hole.
I had to agree to go to meetings three times a week with other girls who have "anorexia" which is what they are now calling it. For the first week it was dreadful, I sat silently the whole time. Nothing was needed to be said, I got back to the skate park and took more pictures and laughed and had fun. Conner made me laugh and I took some really great pictures. I had to make some friends, at the new group. Talking to these girls who were honestly way worse than I was. Me hitting about 125, now. They were like 90 pounds and I didn't know how to look at them because the one glance from me literally could have broken them. These girls, they talked about why. Why they starve themselves. Some also binge and purge and they have scars all over their knuckles from shoving their fingers down their throats to vomit. I cringe every time I look at their hands.
One Wednesday I finally agreed to start my story. Grace and I keep going back and forth whose winning, these girls have given me so many ideas as my parents and Conner and the whole student body have me on a strict "Oh my gosh she didn't eat once, back to the hospital she goes" story.
I told my story.
And a new group of people wanted in.
It had the cravings of losing weight. And winning.
Two girls came to me after the meeting Monday. Chelsea, and Eleanor, they wanted in on it. I got their phone numbers and added them on facebook, Grace and I made a private facebook group and every Friday night after meetings we post how much we've lost this week. It was only us four. For now. As my story got around the group and their friends. We had four more girls join us. Their names were Monica, Paige, Syiah, and Lieon. I started talking to Chelsea every day, we started running together every night. Ten miles every single night. As everything became more definate. Connor started noticing. He was getting so mad at me. We went two weeks without talking. I posted in the group about how Connor was acting.
They all told me to leave him. That this is who I am, who god made me. I cried every day. I came home from running and always threw up once my parents were asleep, my cheeks always were poofy. Lieon said it is from purging myself.
I started getting the cuts and caluces all over my fingers.
I lost Connor. He ended it.
I cried even more.
I threw up even more.
I went in after lunch.
Sometimes I threw up blood.
I posted in the group, they said that was normal sometimes.
It was the night of Homecoming that was the worst..
We all went together. Grace left early with Michael, they went to a party. She drank so much.
They found her body on the side of the road. Of I65. Everyone went and set flowers where they found her.
Michael transfered schools the next week.
They say it was alcohol poisioning because her throat lining was destroyed, but all of us knew it was from purging. I had to stopped throwing up but it became so natural.
So constant...
And I became so aware of when I went to go and throw up that I would leave classes and sit in the bathroom and bawl my eyes out crying because I lost Grace to this and I still cannot break the habbit. The funeral was the worse, we saw her and I could tell they put so much makeup under her eyes because the rings were so dark I couldn't image how she would look in two weeks, or two years.
I ran to the grave site every day. It started getting cold.
As November started.
The pictures ended.
My life got worse.
Connor stopped talking to me completely.
But I was winning. I was down to 96 pounds.
Starving myself was the easy part I guess.
Waking up every single morning getting smaller and smaller made me so happy. The girls started asking me for advice. I started missing meals again and it was the best I've ever felt.
But the hardest part, was that I lost her to this. Well not completely, she drank away her life. But it was my fault too. And I can't get better only worse. The other girls no longer play the game. They're actually getting better.
I hit eighty pounds.
