cigarettes ☹ alex turner

I

I CAN FEEL my little foot tap against the cream, carpeted floors. Where was she? She already was 5 minutes late, which was very unlike her.

I triple-checked my emails - turns out the date and time were both correct - and not a figure of my imagination; perhaps that was more worrying, the fact that my tiny little head was able to comprehend the fact that I could get something right for once.

I was sitting on a disgustingly bright green sofa as the light beams and my daring blue eyes decided to cross paths. The unpleasantness could be tolerated, however, as a middle aged woman with blonde hair and a swooshing maxi skirt entered the room and brought out my worst graces as I gasped in astonishment.

Although Beverly was expected, my able state of mind assured me that she had rushed in caution of being late, which then caused her to be completely unaware of her surroundings that a taxi headed her way completely unbeknownst to her, and well - my mind likes to leave a little for the imagination.

"Quit sneezing, Miss Eve - maybe if you took your medication you could deal with that sleeping problem; what's it called, insomnia? What would I, a pediatric psychiatrist, know about that anyways?" Beverly teased, a little glint in her eye becoming more prominent as she went on.

"We have been through this, Bev. 7 years ought to do the trick to teach you my name - Kim. I am taking that medication, why don't you trust me?" I argued, hoping she wouldn't catch my lie as I looked her dead in the eyes. Seems that my anxiety likes to kick back when I fight to nurture it.

"7 years ought to do the trick for other things too, Eve," she retorted, and I knew this was only the beginning of her kick ass defense. "I have done my part in school - you're sneezing because your immune does not look as good without its beauty sleep and the only thing that would be slightly worse is the prospect of of gaining a few pounds - the side effect of the medicine you're supposed to take, all 24 locked safe in your bag that you've left on display just for me," Beverly replied, without a breath's gap.

"Beverly - you can figure me out better than anyone, but let's quit the games. You called me here before school, as in the ass crack of dawn for you. Your timings are different from the others. What's going on, Bev?"

Beverly seemed overwhelmed. "Change in plans."

I bit my cheek, hoping for the worst. "What kinds of meds am I going to be on now, Beverly?" I spoke, my voice raspy.

"Water doesn't have calories, Eve," She reminds me as I sigh. Of course it doesn't. It boosts my metabolism and makes me feel full. What else would I want? "Obviously your insomnia isn't getting any better," she mumbled, fiddling with her files.

"Nothing is getting better," I reply, as though I am stating the obvious. "I had one before I came here."

She begins to scribble. "Attacks every half hour, purges-" she pauses and eyes me carefully. Most would think that she would ask me but why would I tell her? I want to get better, not fatter. "Every change given and sleep - well we have established the rarity of that."

I rub my neck. "I just want to be like everyone else, Beverly."

She took off her glasses. "If you don't make an effort soon, Eve, it will be more than therapy; supervised eating, hospitalisation, rehab... Make it easy on yourself."

I glared at her. What exactly would be easy about that? Gee, getting fatter sure would be a treat. "I'll eat what I want, Bev. Some fancy place will not change that."

She smiled sadly. "I'll let it sit with you kiddo - despite what's going on, you're a smart girl. Treat yourself that way."

Oh, how I love the smell of freshly cooked bullshit. I take another deep breath. "Alright," I whisper.