The Way We Get By

16 // Alex

The door of the group home clicks shut after my parents have said their goodbyes.

My mother had tried her best to reassure me that everything would be okay and that this group home is what's best for me. My dad, on the other hand, just looked like he was trying to get the whole thing over with. Almost like it was a chore to him, or like he didn't have time to deal with my disordered head. 

"So, Alex," John begins once my parents' footsteps have trailed down the front porch steps and out to the car. The car that I should be leaving in with them.

"I'm glad you're here."

John studies me with his watchful, understanding eyes, ones that remind me of the therapist that I was seeing before I passed out. He eyes me like he's willing to listen to anything I've got to say, no matter how small or insignificant.

"Guess that makes one of us."

He gives me a reassuring smile and steps forward towards the doors that must lead to what he called earlier, 'the living quarters'.

"It'll be an adjustment," he admits honestly, turning back to me before cracking open the door. "But I promise you, we're on your side."

I shake my head and glance to the side where the nurse at the foyer desk catches my eye. No one here is on my side. Not even my own parents.

If they were, they never would've brought me here. They wouldn't have just dropped me off here because they didn't feel like dealing with the hell that is my eating disorder. They don't love me enough to try and help me, and that's the painful, soul-crushing truth.

John turns around and pushes the door open, and after a moment of conflict I hesitantly step into the living quarters with him.

The door opens up to reveal a kitchen, one that's immaculate and spotless. It has olive green walls and sleek wooden cabinets, a nice combination that screams victorian.

Continuing past the kitchen, there's a dining room to the right, a hallway straight ahead, and a living room to the left. In the living room, there are five boys—each of them casually holding Nerf guns and staring straight at me.

"This here is Alex, boys. He's the new fella," John explains before patting me on the shoulder. "Treat him well. And Callum, I trust you to give him the rules, 'mkay?"

A blonde-haired boy laying sprawled out on the couch nods, cocking his Nerf gun.

"You got it, John."

John turns to me once more and rolls up the sleeves of his button down as he lets out a breath.

"You gotta meet with the psychiatrist in a couple 'a minutes. I'll come get you when it's time."

He starts to walk back towards the door to the foyer, although my stiff, shocked body turns to him and speaks up in a quiet voice.

"I have to go to therapy already? I just got here."

I try to keep my voice low and out of earshot of the other boys, but they're all silent and very clearly listening in on what I'm saying.

"It's procedure. Just an introduction meeting before you have your first meal."

John stalks away without another word and leaves me in full panic mode when I remember the entire reason I'm here. It's to eat.

And judging by the looks of most of these boys, they've started gaining some of their weight back. The thought of that being me makes me sick. It makes my breath catch in my throat as my muscles tense and the room begins to shift. The worst part is that there's nowhere to escape to. Nowhere to run to. I'm stuck here, I'm completely stranded, and I'll be forced to eat.