My Eating Disorder (COMPLETE)

I'm Scared

The drive to the clinic was silent. I could feel my mother glance at me every few minutes. I forced myself to look out the window. My reflection stared back at me. I let myself focus on the trees and stores that passed by.

I was highly aware of how close we were getting. My head felt foggy and the urge to cry was immeasurable.

"Mom, please," I said, starting a last ditch effort argument. "Let me get better on my own first. I can take care of myself. I'll eat more, promise."

My mom pursed her lips. We were on a red light. The clinic was half a mile away.

"If I can't, take me to the doctor," I said desperately. "If you're still worried after a month, you can take me."

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. The light turned green and she kept moving forward.

"I swear mom. I'll eat whatever you make me."

She didn't look at me.

"Mom, I'm scared of going. Give me a chance!"

She turned right, and the clinic was now in view.

My heart dropped and I sharply inhaled. She's not going to listen to me.

No. Please stop.

And maybe a god decided to hear me out. Maybe my mom saw from the corner of her eye my shoulders fall down. Maybe she trusted me.

But for whatever reason, my mom took a U-turn.

Away from the clinic.

I exhaled.

"Thank you."

—

My mom didn't speak to me for the rest of the day, and it's not because she didn't want to, but because I didn't let her. I locked myself in my room.

Not without telling her that I needed some time.

"I'll talk to you later, trust me."

I've been making a ton of promises this day. I should shut my mouth before I say something I'll regret.

I slid down the door and stared ahead of my room.

Thinking about my promises. About how hard they'll be accomplish.

I could hear my mom whispering to my dad late at night.

"What do we do?"

I shook my head, putting my hands on my face. Tears streamed down.

My promise was going to be hard to do, but at least I had a chance to get better. At least I wasn't sent to the doctors.

I let outa wet laugh as I tilted my head back to my door.

A mantra was in my head with two single words: thank you.

——

Reminder: This story is not about me!