I won't drag you down with me

2. The misterious guy

There were many things I was scared of. Way too many for a sixteen-year-old.

And breakfast was one of them.

I wasn't scared of breakfast itself. Not as much as what came after it scared me, anyway.

I remember being twelve and staring at the cereal in my bowl, despising my mum for putting milk in it. Not because I didn't like milk: I did. I still do.

At first, she thought I wasn't eating because I was scared of gaining weight. She was convinced I was developing some sort of eating disorder and started threatening to bring me to the hospital whenever I wouldn't finish what was left on my plate, or I would tell her I wasn't hungry.

As selfish as it may sound, sometimes I wish she was right. I wish food scared me so much because I was afraid of putting it into my body in the first place.

So when she realized what the actual reason was, she didn't mention it anymore. She never threatened me to get me checked out ever again. Of course she didn't.

I could tell how guilty she felt every time we would sit at dinner, not looking up from our plates, asking each other questions we weren't really interested in knowing the answers to.

I knew she was ashamed, although she would have never admitted it.

And I never said anything. Some messed up part of me was almost relieved she had, somehow, figured it out. That way I knew she wouldn't try to talk to me about it ever again.

From then on, she stopped putting milk in my cereal. And when she considered me grown-up enough to make my own breakfast, she stopped leaving the cereal box on the table.

I hadn't had milk for breakfast since that day.

I knew it was irrational and stupid, but I didn't care. I couldn't have milk for breakfast.

I didn't know why. I just knew I couldn't.

"I can't", I told Jane, moving the cereal bowl away from me, shaking my head no.

She sighed and silently begged me with her blue, slightly wrinkled eyes, but I wouldn't look at her. Tyler, one of the oldest patients at the center, reached across the table for the bowl, but Jane gently slapped his hand away with hers.

"You've already had yours, dear. This is Reese's", she told him, her voice soft and gentle still. Tyler withdrew his hand with an apologetically disappointed look on his face.

I smiled up at him. "You can have it, Ty", I reassured him, pushing the bowl across the table towards him.

But Jane was faster and stopped it before it could get to the end of the table, putting it back in front of me. "I'll come back in fifteen minutes", she said, and then left, sitting at the nurse's desk.

Sighing, I grabbed my spoon and stared at the cereal drowning in the once white and silky liquid.

"Why don't you just eat the cereal and leave the milk?", Sarah suggested, sitting next to me.

I turned, watching her drink the milk left in her bowl so carelessly that it made me want to stop her and tell her that she was making a huge mistake.

But then I remembered: she didn't have to fear it. She could eat whatever she wanted and not be frightened of the consequences.

It was just in my  head. Everyone else was free.

"Way to go, S", said Noah sarcastically, shaking his head with a hopeless smile.

He then smiled at me, and I tried my best to return the smile, although I'm pretty sure it wasn't really convincing, judging by the look on his face.

"I mean, she won't eat it either way. Might as well try"