Growing up (Get Scared- continued)

Cynical Skin

(A/N I looked back on the first part of this to check what Nick's weight was.. Holy shit he should've been dead. BMI of around 12.7.. Yikes... Let's change 80.2 pounds to 90 to speed up Nick's recovery and weight restoration, shall we. Save that poor child from heart failure) 

Nick's pov. 

I'm woken up by the nurses at the facility at 7:30 am. My body feels too heavy to move and get up. I couldn't sleep very well during the night. I spent hours thinking about Sheila and what happened. The moment replayed in my head over and over again, from when she started leaning in, to when Johnny caught us. 

With Her face being all I see when I close my eyes, it's hard to keep them closed without feeling guilty because you made you pissed of your friend. Why couldn't she be ANYONE ELSE's sister? 

"Come on, Nicholas, you need to come eat breakfast," one of the nurses says to me, seeing that instead of getting up like I'm supposed to, I grabbed my pillow and put it over my head to drown the sound and block the light she turned on.

"I'm tired," I whine, "don't you people ever sleep."

"Nope. So get dressed please."

She closes the curtain so I can change into the clothes I brought with me yesterday. A grey slightly torn shirt, black destroyed-at-the-knees jeans, and of course my hoodie because I'm always freezing. The hoodie doesn't keep me warm, but it makes the cold more tolerable.

Stepping out of my area, I'm greeted by some of the girls who also stay here. I'm the only one who doesn't share a room because I'm the only boy in this unit at the moment. It's logical but unfair to the other people here who need to tolerate a bunch of other people in the middle of the night. Oh well, lucky me I guess.

There's 12 of us in total so 6 go to each table of the cafeteria. Each table has a "Supervisor," that keeps us from going through with our habits and tendencies. This where all the table rules come from, so up go my sleeves to expose all my healed scars that are still visible to the naked eye. 

I ate whatever they gave me at the right pace, with the right bite size, without showing any signs of anxiety. Like I have been all week. Keep it calm, keep it down. One of the newer girls wasn't taking it so smoothly. She eats slowly and is constantly being told to eat faster and bigger bites. She looks terrified. Like I did. Her eyes are watery and red, and it makes me feel for her.

After were done eating, I see her go to the multi purpose area, where no one else is, so I follow. Walking in, I see her on a chair towards the back with her knees to her chest. Her hair is black and her skin is tan. Her arms look like she could stick them through a sewing needle. 

As odd as it may seem, people that look like her, and me I guess, don't come around here often. Most people here look completely healthy. Normal weights, and overweight seems to be more common than skeletons.

"Um..H.. Ey." What the hell was that, Nick? She doesn't look at me, doesn't even look up. She keeps her eyes on the pile of board games on the table. I sit down next to her. "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay," she responds with anger, "I'm in a fucking mental hospital for shit's sake." She has an accent. Does she speak Spanish? Maybe.

"Being here just mean you can get help."

"What if I don't want help?"

"Then there's no point of being here. If you don't want it, then you aren't going to get better, so why pay to stay the same," I say.

"Mhm and that's why you're like 2 pounds," she snaps.

Okay, you're thinner than me. Thinner that I ever got, so please relax. "Well, I've actually gained like 12 pounds since I got here. My parents are very persistent."