Intertwined

Chapter 34

3 weeks later

Lauren's POV

"TIME FOR BREAKFAST LADIES! WAKE UP!" There's a knock on our door, and then I hear footsteps walking away. Across the room I hear my roommate, Rose, groan in annoyance. I open my eyes and get up. I just need to get this over with. "Come on Rose, let's go. You know what they'll do if you don't get up now." 

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." She sit up with her eyes still shut and slides on her slippers. Her tired eyes open and she slowly walks over to her wardrobe and grabs a hoodie, putting it on and walking out the door. I find myself envying her once again. I'm not allowed to wear a hoodie, sweater, or a jacket to breakfast because they don't want me to hide food in my pockets (which I have only done twice). So I have to freeze while eating the high calorie foods they give me. 

I walk behind Rose as we make our way to the cafeteria. Once I get there I get in line behind all the other anorexics, bulimics, drug addicts, suicidals, and others. The line is quite short today which is good because my knees hurt today and I just want to sit down. I grab my tray that the lady gives me and walk away to the table in the corner of the room that's next to the window. No one sits with me, but I'm happy about that. Rose has her own little group of friends, she's invited me to join them several times but I decline the offer nicely time and time again. 

I eat in silence, staring out the window, thinking. It's been three weeks of me being in here. The two days after Lila and Danielle left I was moved from the hospital in Maryland to a rehab center right outside of L.A. on a hill that overlooks the north side of L.A. It isn't that bad here. I have a strict schedule and there are MANY rules but it's okay. Therapy has helped me a lot, as well as the weekly mail that Camila gives me that comes from Dani. She's written me letters because she can't use the phone at her foster home so she works at taking care of people's kids to earn money for the stamps to be able to send the letter. She says that she gets in trouble a lot because of it and they sometimes hit her and tell her to quit but she refuses because the children she cares for remind her of Lila. They keep her sane, she says. I cry whenever I receive them, I miss them so fucking much.

I haven't heard anything from Lila because, well, she's three years old and can't write me letters because she doesn't know how to write, nor does she have any way to get postal stamps. She doesn't know how the mailing system works or how phones work so I'm left to think about how she's doing. Maybe she's been adopted and in a happy family that loves her and can provide for her. I don't know, but my therapist told me to only think about the positives, so I try my best to.

Camila has been coming to visit me on every single visiting day. Management told the girls to just take a break until I'm recovered, they weren't very happy about doing that but they had no choice since I'm in rehabilitation, just got back from being kidnapped, and the fans and media were going crazy. They want to wait for things to calm down. So the girls visited me a couple times on the first week I was here before they all left to their hometowns to spend time with their families. Camila, however, stayed. I nearly yelled at her for being so stupid. I wanted her to go visit her family. I told her I'd be fine but she just repeated over and over that she wasn't going anywhere. I ended up coming to my senses and appreciated that she was going to stay. She calls me everyday to tell me how much she loves me and brings me books for me to read. She's been the one to keep me going.

When I had first gotten here, they weighed me and were shocked because apparently I was 60 pounds underweight. They said that I was going to be a lot of work because to get me to my proper weight I'd have to be in the right state of mind, so they gave me a schedule with private therapy four times a week and group therapy on the other three days. The other girls only get two days of private therapy and two days of group. They said that someone that is that underweight would probably have a major breakdown with the idea of gaining 60 pounds and having to eat 100 times more that what they usually eat. That means that I get to do the opposite of what I was doing before, instead of starving I'd have to eat. 

So I've been recovering from my eating disorder and self harm along with my pill problem. They only give me a total of four pain killers a day and it's for my healing ribs. But that would soon be gone because they are estimating that they should be fully healed in three more weeks.

I've admitted to my therapist about my urges to have heroin. I explained to her about how Lloyd and those men injected heroin into me and how when I finally got off of it when I got here, I only got more depressed. I told her how at the hospital I would secretly go into my backpack and get the bottle of heroin and the needle Lloyd gave me  and injected it into me because it felt good to not feel pain and be in a peaceful state of mine. I'd do it while everyone was asleep. After that therapy session (which was on the first week I was here) she called Camila and had her look in that backpack for the heroin and the pills I hid in there. She told Camila to safely dispose of it. On my visitation day, Camila confronted me on it and I ended up crying in her arms. 

I finish up my food and exit the cafeteria to go down the hall to my therapist. For the next hour I just talk to her about how much I miss Dani and Lila and everything I felt when I was with them, especially in captivity.  As well as how sick I feel whenever I finish eating.

Eating in here has been the biggest challenge. On my first day here I only made it as far as two slices of bread before I nearly barfed. I tried to throw away all of my food but the nurses in the cafeteria stopped me and told me to sit down and eat everything on my plate. I tried to explain but they didn't listen and said that if I didn't eat the food on my plate I would be in deep trouble. I kept resisting and one of them bent down to my level and whispered in my ear, "Just eat it, sweetie, please. If you keep this going I'll have to follow protocol and take you down to your doctor. He'll then install a place on your stomach so you can be tube fed. It will hurt like hell. Just eat, you don't want that at all, trust me." And to this, I was scared shitless and ate slowly, attempting not to vomit. My stomach felt like it was going to explode by the end of it. After that day, I ate every single thing on my plate even though it was hard. I was always that last one to finish, but as time went on I got better at eating and finished earlier. I was still one of the last but it was a lot better than when I first got here. 

~

I was in my room, reading a book Camila had brought me when one of the nurses walks in and gestures for me to follow her. We walk down the stairs to the medical hallway and she brings me into the weighing room. Today is Thursday, also known as weighing day, the day we all fear most. Most of the girls drink a bunch of water on this day, also known as tanking, so that they can "weigh more". Or they do other stuff that I really don't care about. I just rather recover for real instead of get out of here still underweight and with problems. Last time I was here I was at 64 pounds, so I was excited to know how much I had gained. When for my first two weeks I hated the idea of me gaining weight and actually cried when I saw myself getting "fatter". But then I looked on the positive side and reminded myself of what I had realized when I had been in that warehouse and forced to stay awake. If I gain weight I can go visit Lila and Dani and get to see my family and see Camila and the fans. I would have my life back and be healthy and happy and wouldn't have to suffer anymore. So I remind myself everyday when I'm eating that this is for my own good and if I do it I can finally get out and live a happy life. 

"Clothes off." The nurse says sitting down on her chair. I strip down to just my bra and underwear. The nurse turns on the scale and tells me to go ahead and stand on it. The number pops up after a moment: 70.5 pounds. 

"Good job Jauregui. Keep it up. That's a good six pounds. At this rate you should be out of here in less time than we expected."

I get dressed and walk out of the weighing room smiling like an idiot. "I'll be out of here sooner than expected." I whisper to myself. I walk back to my room and grab my book off of my bed along with my notebook and a couple pencils. I walk out to the garden and sit by the tree on the far side of the garden. I spend the rest of my time there before and after lunch until we are called in for dinner. I just sit there and write for a bit and then switch back to reading my book and time flies by quickly with me being caught up in the book.

But I can't help but keep smiling as I eat my dinner and before I go to bed. The thought of me getting out sooner makes me want to jump up and down on my bed in pure joy.