Broken Butterfly

67 Calories

The woman looking back at me, is not me - or at least she isn't anymore. The girl looking back at me isn't a cardiothoracic surgeon, isn't a war vet, isn't a... Person... She's fragile and timid. Weak like a frail branch at the end of a tree, strong enough to hold a bird, but would snap at the weight of a cat. You can easily see my rib cage protruding from my small chest. If I turn around, you can clearly see the vertebrae that make up my spine and my shoulder blades as they stick out in the cold apartment air. I push my knees together, there's a 2 inch gap between my thighs. And my upper chest, you can see my collar bones sticking out. But I guess this is all good. It's what I wanted, right? Maybe he'll love me now. Now that I'm skinny, he might choose me. It's pathetic really, I'm destroying myself for a man. But I can never help but think maybe it's not all about getting him to notice me. Maybe I like it, maybe I enjoy the hunger pains, maybe I enjoy starving myself but I won't accept it. I won't accept that I'm doing this to myself just because I want to. I have to blame someone else, I wish I didn't have to blame someone, it makes me feel terrible, like I'm abusing them in some way, but now I can't stop. It's not my fault. Those 4 words keep repeating themselves in my brain, rattling in my skull until I end up with an earth-shattering headache that brings me to my weak and fragile knees. I hold my head in my hands and resist the urge to cry. I knew looking at my very delicate and damaged reflection in my wooden and dusty mirror was not my smartest idea. Thinking about me, what I've done to myself, about him... It's all just too much. I don't even realise until they reach my mouth and I taste their bitter salty taste on my dry and chapped lips that I realise that I'm crying. The tears are cascading down the sides of my face, down my protruding cheekbones and my rosy cheeks and into my mouth or off the end of my chin. I raise my hands to my eyes and try to wipe them but the tears just keep coming so I settle for leaning back against my old, comfy sofa and let them fall.

After what feels like an eternity, I emerge from my cocoon like ball I somehow made my body fit into and get a glass of water from the kitchen, but as I go to stand, my legs tremble so much that I'm afraid I'll fall over. I make it to the kitchen, barely, and down a glass of water. I was dehydrated after crying my eyes out for so long. I feel like a helpless child, unable to fend for myself. I grab a cracker and a low-cal cereal bar from one of my cupboards and sit at my small, wooden dining table and slowly eat. I've had no food all day and I'm about to have to go into work for my shift and I can't be a shivering mess in front of all of my colleagues so I give up with my no eating for today and settle for the cracker and cereal bar as in total it's only 67 calories. I can easily burn that off at the hospital later. I chew slowly, as usual until both items have been finished. I feel disgusting, I even feel somewhat guilty for eating because I'm not pretty enough to eat. I'm too fat and until I'm skinny enough I feel like I can't eat, which I know is all in my head  but I can't shake those thoughts, they're there everyday just waiting for me to act upon them. I don't own my life anymore, they do, the thoughts in my head do, my eating disorder does. And I'm so ashamed to admit to that. But we all know that it's the truth. And I can't hide from the truth any longer, as much as I may try. I glance up at the red plastic clock on my wall; 13:36. Crap. I have to be at work in under 25 minutes. I know I'm going to be late. Oh well. I drag my almost corpse of a body up of off the dining chair and make my way into my bedroom and put on some decent clothes to go out in. I had a shower this morning but I forgot to brush my hair so I spend about 10 minutes getting the knots out of it. I apply my makeup in a feeble attempt to make myself feel somewhat beautiful, to get him to notice me. But deep down inside I know that he never will. He's happy, he has a beautiful girlfriend. And she's practically perfect! She's a surgeon just like us, she has beautiful long black curly hair, she's smart - oh my gosh she's so smart, she skinny and beautiful, and also, she's my student. Which is difficult at times but she truly is amazing. I'm glad he's found someone who can make him happy and who's this perfect, I just wish I could be that person. But who am I kidding, no one's going to love me. I'm pathetic, and who on earth in their right mind would love the girl who does this to themselves for a guy to notice them. Although to be honest, I'm not sure it's all about getting him to notice me anymore, I think I just want someone to notice me. But I don't know, who would care, anyways. I grab my keys and my jacket, carefully avoiding my mirror, and leave to get to work where I will pretend like everything's fine and avoid him.

30 minutes later I'm at the hospital in the attendings lounge. There's no one else here except for me, luckily - as I need to change into my scrubs and I don't really want any of my colleagues seeing how skinny I've gotten, the bones protruding from everywhere. I've thought about just eating again, but it's not that simple, and, as much as I hate to admit it, I like the starving pains I get, they make me feel like I'm still a person, and I don't want to let that go. Ever. I undress quickly and change into my navy blue scrubs, I place my keys and my clothes in my cubby and retrieve my white doctors coat. It's really big on me now, but I don't care to be honest, it means that people can't visibly see the damage to my once healthy body. I'm fixing my watch to my jacket pocket at the door swings open and in comes Derek raving on about this big tumour case he's just found and how he's going to cut it out. Mark follows him in and they sit down and Derek continues his story. I keep my back towards them and finish securing my watch until I hear his voice. I don't know what to do, I can't be near him, not after earlier, I'll freak out! Or say something I'll regret. He's talking to Derek and Mark, he's not interested in me, but I have to get out. I grab my scrub cap and stuff it into my pocket and run for the door, I think I heard him calling my name but I just continue to run. I run down many corridors until I reach an on-call room, I lock myself him and push my brittle, bony back up against the door. I wait there for a minute, regaining my breath. Why? Why did I just do that?! I wonder to myself. I can't even be civil anymore, I bet he thinks I'm a complete freak, even more than he may have done before. Wow, Teddy, you really don't how to screw things up, don't you. I think to myself, silently cursing myself for my erratic behaviour. Just then, my pager bleeps. I take it off the hem of my trousers and check it. MVC. Great. This means working with him, with Hunt.