Ruthless knight

“Hi.” I gulp. “Who are you?” 

“My name is Sandy. I’m one of the psychologists here at the hospital. Your father asked me to come down and speak with you.” 

Geez. You’d think he would have mentioned something about that when we talked earlier. “Oh. Why?” 

She studies my face. “I specialize in eating disorders.” 

I almost fall right out of bed. 

“It’s nice to meet you, but I think there’s been a mistake. I don’t have an eating disorder.” 

She taps her pen against her pad. “So how did you end up here then?” She cocks her head to the side, assessing me. “Is it because you’re addicted to amphetamines?”

I’ve never been so stumped in my life. I feel like I’m in the hot seat of all hot seats. 

“Well, no…not exactly. I was only taking the Adderall, so I wasn’t hungry, and I’d keep losing we…” My voice trails off as the lightbulb goes on. “Shit.” 

Her harsh eyes soften a fraction. “Can I ask you a personal question?” 

I don’t think I could say no even if I wanted to. “Yeah?”

“Before the Adderall, how often did you think about your weight and food?” 

I try to calm my shaking hands, but it’s no use. “A lot.”  

She scribbles something else down in her notepad. “Weekly? Daily? Multiple times a day?” 

“At least once every hour,” I admit. 

Nodding, she smiles sympathetically. “Eating disorders aren’t always anorexia or bulimia, Sawyer. And to be frank? It sounds like you have some major issues with not only food, but how you view yourself.” 

She’s not wrong.

I blow out a ragged breath. “Yeah…you may have a point there.” 

She places her pen and pad down. “I have to ask you another very serious question.” 

“Okay.” 

“If I told you—after you’re discharged, of course—that I wanted you to come to my inpatient eating disorder clinic for three weeks…and then meet with me for weekly sessions after. What would you say?” 

I’d say—holy shit…that’s a lot to take in. 

“I’d say I’m nervous,” I settle on, before it occurs to me. “I’d also say I have graduation coming up and—”

“We can have your school send your assignments to the clinic so you won’t fall behind.” She folds her hands in her lap. “But the thing is…this won’t work and I can’t help you if you don’t want it. You have to want it.” 

Tears prickle the back of my throat. “I know I want to feel better about myself. I know I don’t want to go back to using Adderall to lose weight.” 

“That’s a good place to start.” Looking at her watch, she says, “What do you know, I have the next hour free. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?”

Part of me wants to run away from confronting these issues because it’s scary as hell. 

However, the biggest part of me, the one beating in my chest—the one that almost died because I never felt good enough—wants to get better for myself. 

And for the people I love.