Hunger

t w e n t y - s e v e n

I sit in the table, staring at my breakfast. I had no intention of eating it, but it made me feel better pretending like I was okay, and that eating the food was something I was capable of. I hear the steps coming from the stairs and I threw some of the breakfast in a napkin and quickly put it in my pocket.

He enters the room, taking a sit in front of me, his plate was already served, and I was ready to leave the room. I couldn't be in the same room as him since it happened.

"Nate is taking me today." I whisper standing up.

"What?" He says hurt, looking up. "Why?" He asks angry. "I got you that appointment, not him."

"I know." I whisper avoiding his face. "But it's better this way."

"Is it because of what happened on Thursday?" He whispers not looking at me. "It's been three days, get over it."

"Get over?" I shout angry. "You kissed me." I whisper staring at him. "I can't look you in the face or have a conversation with you, and you expect me to go on a half hour drive with you alone to the doctor?"

"I won't do it again." He replies, chewing his food in despair.

I stare at him for a while, wondering if I should go with him. I didn't saw him that way, and things were starting to get weird. We could never be together, what was he thinking? If mom and his dad ever found out they would kill us, and everyone at school would judge us for sure. So why did he do it? He knows all of this, why complicate things this much?

"Fine." I whisper going up the stairs.

We had to leave in an hour, and I texted Nate, feeling guilty, but promised him we would hang at night. It's Saturday, and he probably has better things to do than take his mentally ill girlfriend to the doctor.

When Christopher finished his food, and got ready, we got in his car. I wasn't planning on talking to him, so I brought my headphones and a book, just in case. The ride was quiet, and I was extremely nervous, what was I supposed to say? What was he going to ask? I don't want to get help, but should I? I haven't weighed myself in more than a week and I don't know if I gain or lost.

We get there, and it was huge. It wasn't only a nutritionist, it had other people, like therapists and group meetings. What is this place? I wonder looking around. I glare at Chris, and he smiles knowing I was mad.

We go inside the building, it had three floors, and lots of people too. Mostly girls, even though there were some guys too. Everyone was so thin, so skinny. There was one girl though, she seemed dead. It wasn't even normal how skinny she was, and I could see her bones so clearly. Did I look like her? Was my face all sunk in and grey?

"Hi." Christopher says to the receptionist. "We're here to see doctor Baize."

"Do you have an appointment?" She asks with a smile.

"Yes." He replies.

"Name?" She asks typing something on the desktop.

"Katherine Allard." He says, looking at me from the corner of his eye.

She nods and after a few minutes answers. "He will call you in a few minutes."

We take a sit, and I began regret being here. Why did I even come? I'm okay, I kept repeating wanting to run out of this place. I kept moving my leg nonstop, a nervous habit I began doing during class. My logic was that I burn calories when I do that, even if it's the minimal.

I feel his hand on top of my knee and I stop, glaring at him. "This was a bad idea." I whisper crossing my arms.

"Katherine Allard." A man around his thirties may a little bit older said, coming out of a office.

I stand up and start walking up to him but notice that Christopher didn't. "What are you doing?" I whisper.

"What?" He says rising his brows, confused. "You want me to go with you?"

I nod, panicking and he came with me. The office was big, and it had huge windows in a wall. It was almost like a wall of glass. The view was beautiful, I didn't realize there was a lake and trees behind this building.

I take a sit on the left chair in front of the desk, still not looking at the doctor or whatever it is he was. We were quiet, and he kept looking at me, not saying a word. He was handsome, with his green eyes and tie. Kind of reminded me of my father, and suddenly I felt nostalgic.

"Hi." He finally says breaking the awkward silence that filled the room.

"Hi." I whisper back, uncomfortable in my own skin.

"How old are you?" He asks with a smile.

"Sixteen." I whisper again, still not looking at him."

"Mmm." Was all he said, while he wrote somethings on a paper. "Do you know how much you weigh Katherine?" He asks looking back at us.

"I don't know." I reply. "Haven't weight myself in a while."

"Why is that?" He asks, and I stare at him. What kind of question is that?

"I don't know..." I reply frowning. "I guess if don't weigh myself, then I don't know how much I lose, and I'm not sick." I finish frowning. "I know is ridiculous, but it helps." I whisper staring at the ground.

"It's not." He says half smiling. "Ridiculous I mean. It's a coping mechanism, it helps you feel less awful about this whole situation."

I look at him and smile for the first time. "Exactly." I murmur.

"Let's weight you really quick." He says standing up.

"Now?" I asked scared.

Christopher grabs my hand, and nods pointing at the scale with his head. I've never weighed myself in front of some, aside from Harvey. When I do at home, is naked or on my underwear, scared of weighing more because of the clothing or jewelry.

I take my shoes off, even though he didn't ask me to, but my adidas literally would add like five pounds.

I wait, not looking at the ground until he said that we could take a seat again.

"Do you want to know?" He asks writing it down on the paper. "It's a trigger for most of the people that suffer from eating disorders, so I understand if you don't want to."

"Just tell me." I say nervous.

"117 pounds." He says looking at me with half a smile. "You aren't underweight yet." He says putting his hands together on top of the desk. "For your height you would be considered underweight at 104 pounds with a BMI of 18.4"

I didn't understand half of the things he was saying, but I kept nodding like I knew what he was saying. The only thing in my mind was the fact that I lost six more pounds in almost two weeks.

"Your current BMI is 20.7 which is great but considering the fact that you reach it due to starvation is not good at all." He continues talking, and I turn to look at Chris, he was just as confused as me. "There's a nurse coming, to take you blood and run some more test to see how you are, which is probably not good. The amount of exercise you did, and youre eating habits could have cause mayor damage to your body, but let's hope you're okay."

I look at Christopher, wondering what exactly he told this guy. How did he know so much information about me? Christopher didn't even know half of the things I've been through.

"We are just happy that you choose to get better." He finishes with a smile.

But I didn't. I thought staring at the floor. I'm not even underweight. He said it, I'm not sick enough, I clearly don't need help. So why am I here?