Une Fleure Fanée

Week 13 Part 5 (Thursday)

     I'm so much more tired and slow waking up, my alarm ringing in my ear for ten seconds because I can barely get myself to move to get the alarm. I crumple to the ground trying to stand up. I'm so pale and tired and really weak. At least I have 150 calories today.

     I clutch onto the bed and pull myself up. Get it together, Lilly. I force myself to stand up and fall to my dresser. I grab a black sports bra, pin it up, a camo ALDC hoodie, and black leggings, pinning the leggings too. I stumble to the bathroom and lean against the counter.

     I very carefully put a ponytail in my hair, adding the black elastic, and put two Lilly K clips to hide the hair loss. I go to my cuts. Red, white, and purple lines cover my wrist. All contained in a little box. After those are covered, and I make sure that the vein is visible, I move on. The cuts are so pretty, Lilliana. But it's yours. Cover them.

     I do my skincare, and my makeup. I take my meds, and I enter the main room. Another ¼ cup of dry Cheerios. Yummy. Man, these days feel like they're flying by, but they also feel so long. I'm already on my thirteen week of hell!

     Mom is way too preoccupied with her phone to notice I barely ate any breakfast. I sigh sadly. When will she notice? Will she notice? She's a damn eating disorder therapist. The irony is very comical.

     "Had breakfast?" Mom asks, and I nod.

     "Let's go. We're going with Ashley and Pressley, and Brady, so find Ashley's car," Mom reports, grabbing her purse.

     I run and grab my dance bag and shoes, but I still feel slow. Like I'm moving in slo-mo with next to no energy. I put on my shoes, and grab my phone, and I can barely keep up with my mother on the walk to the elevator. How am I going to dance today? Oh, God.

     The elevator ride is so fast. I need to get my speed under control. Maybe on my next eating day, I put some electrolytes in. It may waste 90 calories, but it may make me have energy. Or eat straight-up caffeine. Coffee's a fear food. Maybe just an espresso shot.

     "Pressley and Brady are already in the car, let's go," Mom says, annoyed, forcing me to run.

     I feel myself slowly picking up energy as I run to the car, but I'm still slow and have low energy as we find Ashley's car. I climb over Pressley to the middle row. Mom gets in the passenger seat and we're ready.

     "Two days 'till competition, kiddos. How do you like the group dance?" Ashley asks, getting out of the parking garage.

     "I'm glad Hannah is the lead. I want to see what she's capable of," I say, and Mom doesn't look too happy.

     "Yeah? Well I think that's wonderful that you believe so much in Hannah, Lilly," Ms. Ashley says and I feel happy; validation is my kryptonite.

     Pressley and Brady are very chipper and excited, and of course, start to have a jam session in the car, so I have to sing along. This will either deplete my energy, or it will raise the energy. If it's a pop song, raise it. If it's a sad ballad, deplete.

     7 Rings by Ariana Grande. An upbeat absolute killer of a song. It may be six in the morning, but we're screaming it at the top of our lungs like the lunatics we are. Pressley starts recording, and I keep my energy up, my heart rate raising. Sounds weird, but I feel a little more energetic like I'm high on adrenaline.

     "That was so fun!" Brady exclaims, trying to catch his breath.

     "Not for my earbuds," Mom says, and I feel a little bad, but we keep jamming out, living our best lives, honestly.