The Disappearing Girl Part 15

Daring a glance back, I saw a man with short blond hair and a lean build staring at me unabashedly. I blushed at the attention and whirled back to face Marti. "I'm not getting undressed in the middle of the bar."

When I didn't comply, she reached over and grabbed the hood of the sweats.h.i.+rt. It took a few seconds for her to wrestle me out of the s.h.i.+rt. Although I had a tank top underneath, I felt naked and exposed. She looked me over with approval. "Much better. We work our a.s.ses off for our bodies, why wouldn't you want to show it off?" A second later, she shot me a bemused grin. "And look who decided to come this way."

My anxiety level heightened as an unfamiliar arm brushed against mine. The man took the empty bar stool next to me and didn't seem put off when I didn't acknowledge his arrival. A hand appeared in front of me. "Hi, I'm Holden."

I cast a sidelong glance in his direction. "Hi."

"Hey, can I buy you a drink?"

I tilted my head to the side and held up the seltzer. "I already have one."

"Then I guess I'll have to hang out until you need another," he said flirtatiously.

"Umm ..."

Marti poked her head between the two of us, not trying to conceal the fact she'd been eavesdropping. "You have to forgive my friend. She's getting over a messy breakup. Maybe you can make her forget all about her ex."

"Marti," I hissed.

Holden took the announcement as an invitation to place his hand on my knee and lean in close. His lips brushed against my ear as he whispered, "I've been watching you all night, trying to get up the nerve to talk to you. You're so pretty, but you haven't smiled once. I'd like to have a shot at making you smile."

I felt nothing. Holden was attractive, but he stirred no emotion in me. He wasn't the one I wanted. He could never be the one to fill me with a bottomless yearning that woke me up in the middle of the night, screaming out in agony.

"I gotta go," I addressed Holden and Marti. Marti yelled out my name as I hopped off the stool, but I ignored her. I would explain things later. I didn't want an overeager stranger to fill the void inside me. She'd understand when I told her food was the only thing I wanted to relieve the emptiness.

Chapter Twenty-Five.

I was devoid of feeling by the time I finished my binge. What I had learned about purging was some foods simply refused to come back up and wound up stopping weight loss. My post-bar binge had included a box of macaroni and cheese, two cans of canned spaghetti, and a pint of ice cream-all foods that came up as easily as they went down.

I shuffled into the bathroom and turned on the shower as hot as I could stand it. I planned to allow the scalding water to wash away the filth I'd feel after throwing up in the shower. Undressing, I stepped into the water.

Piles of food poured out of me and into the pot I'd left on the ledge around the tub. I had stopped purging directly into the drain after I clogged up Marti's shower the first week I'd been living with her. Marti hadn't batted an eyelash and instead told me to keep containers in the bathroom to use for this purpose.

My throat was raw but I kept stabbing my finger against the back of my mouth. I didn't stop until I saw the last of the macaroni and cheese plop into the pot. I settled the pot outside the tub and pressed my forehead against the shower wall. I felt worthless and soiled, my tears intermingling with the shower water.

Steam billowed in front of my face and I stood in a daze for a long minute. Suddenly, I felt the world tilt. My heart was racing, and my breath was coming out in frantic, short gasps. I reached for the shower faucet, but the movement left me feeling off-balance. Black spots distorted my vision and I tried to steady myself by blindly grasping for the towel bar. My fingers slipped over the plastic and my eyes closed on their own accord. I vanished into the darkness.

The memories were there, but they weren't fully realized in my brain. I could vaguely recall shouting and cursing, a feminine and masculine voice arguing over the body they stumbled upon. There was a recollection of someone slapping my face as I tried to crawl out of my semiconscious state. Clothes were thrown on my soaking wet body, and I was dragged away by two sets of hands.

My dreams came in Technicolor, vivid and hard to distinguish from reality. In my nightmares, I was drowning, each breath sucking more water into my lungs. Hands were grasping for me from above, but I kept sinking, my weight dragging me down into nothingness.

The smell of antiseptic greeted me when I finally regained consciousness. My eyes were leaden as I attempted to open them. I blinked several times once I forced them apart and I was instantly disoriented over where I could be. Once my gaze connected with the IV inserted into my left arm, comprehension washed over me.

I realized I'd lost at least a day when I saw the sunlight streaming through the oversized windows of the hospital room. The hush in the room had led me to believe I was alone. I heard the sharp intake of my own breath when I saw my mother seated in the corner of the room.

The sound of my breathing caught her attention and she turned to me, remaining seated in the chair. She held my gaze and a thousand emotions clouded her face. She looked different; her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her face was free of makeup. Her eyes were swollen and she appeared on the verge of crying again. She was almost unrecognizable.

"You're awake." I could hear the relief in her tone, but I couldn't quite believe it.

My mouth was dry, my lips chapped, but I managed to croak out, "I haven't seen you cry since Dad died."

"No matter what you think, you're my daughter and I love you. It's killing me to see you in this kind of pain." Her fierce declaration didn't make sense to me. The only times I had seen her that worked up was when I made a major faux pas, like wearing white after Labor Day.

I wanted to respond, but something sick and twisted inside my very being dragged my attention to the IV. I watched the liquid within the bag stream through the clear tubing, going directly to my veins. Panic took control of my mind and I demanded, "What's in the IV? What are you letting them put in me?"

"Honey, you're very sick," she said, and she stood up and moved closer to me. "You're malnourished and dehydrated. The doctors are giving you fluids and nutrients through the IV until we can talk about long-term options." Her tone was soothing, but I couldn't reconcile the woman who stood before me with my actual mother.

"Mom, you get how important it is to stay skinny. How many calories are in what they're giving me? Don't let the doctors make me fat again. Please make them stop, or I swear I'll pull this thing out!"

"Oh Kayla," she cried, "This is my fault. I'm so sorry for being a horrible mother. Your father would never forgive me if he saw you now ..."

My heart fractured over the reminder of how I was disappointing my father. I dispelled his ghost and continued my begging. "Mom, I only have two pounds to lose! And then I'm done with my diet. I'll have to work to maintain it, but it'll be nothing like it is now. Please."

"Kayla, what are you talking about? You were dumped at the ER by some couple that refused to give their names. The only thing they provided was your cell phone, and the nurses got my number from it. You've been in and out of consciousness for the past twelve hours. When I first came into the ER ... G.o.d, the way you looked ... I thought you were dead. You looked so lifeless." My mother shuddered at the memory.

I could piece together a theory about what happened. Marti and a guy she probably brought home with her had found me in the bathroom. They must've driven me to the ER and left without a second thought once I was surrounded by doctors and nurses. I wasn't surprised about the callousness of her actions; we'd both been using each other.

"But I feel fine now. I'm a little tired, but otherwise I'm as good as new. I don't need the IV any longer." My sentences came out in short breathless bursts. I found the call b.u.t.ton on the side of my hospital bed and pressed it firmly.

"Yes?" a disembodied voice asked through the speakers.

"This is Kayla Marlowe and I need someone to come in here and take out my IV." I made an attempt to sound authoritative. I considered yanking it out of my arm, but the idea left me squeamish.

"We'll be right there," the nurse replied and clicked off.

A minute later, a pet.i.te middle-aged nurse strode into the room. "How are you feeling? Is the IV hurting you?"

My mother interjected before she had a chance. "No, she's afraid it's making her fat. Is the doctor available?"

"Mom, I can speak for myself," I said to her. "I want it out of me now! In fact, I'm not staying here another minute. I don't need anybody's help, I'm fine."

"I'll page the doctor," the nurse answered coolly.

"I'm signing myself out of here, so you don't have to bother."

I heard a gasp at the doorway as the nurse scurried out of the room. My sister stood motionless, holding a vase of flowers in front of her. Her jaw dropped as she took in my appearance, and I suddenly became self-conscious about how I looked in the flimsy hospital gown.

Rus.h.i.+ng over to me, Lila put the vase on the bedside table. "Kayla, they told me you'd wake up, but I had this awful feeling you wouldn't and they were lying to me to keep me from getting hysterical."

"I'm sorry I worried you. I had the water too hot in the shower and my blood pressure must've dropped. It was just a stupid fainting spell." Judging by the way my mother and Lila exchanged glances, I realized my family no longer accepted my lies.

"Where have you been? If you hadn't written me back, we were all a hundred percent serious about calling the police." Lila's tone was accusatory and I envisioned the h.e.l.l I'd put my sister through.

"I was staying with a ... friend." I was reluctant to give Marti that distinction and stumbled over the word.

"When we got the call from the hospital, I thought it had happened again. I thought you were with Dad." Lila burst into tears and my horror over the IV was forgotten. I motioned her forward and she crawled into my lap. I ran my hand up and down her back, attempting to soothe her.

My mother swallowed audibly. After she regained her composure, her voice was brisk and business-like. "Kayla, we've spoken to the doctor. You're suffering from an eating disorder and need professional help. She's making some calls to see what type of treatment options we have open to us."

"Mom, I'm in college. It's totally normal for girls to take extreme measures to stay thin ..."

"That's not what this is, so save your tired excuses. I'm not saying I didn't have a part in this, but I'm ready to take responsibility. h.e.l.l, maybe I need therapy, too. But you're getting counseling, Kayla; this isn't negotiable."

"Mom, you've told me my whole life I needed to lose weight! I finally did it and now you want me to stop. Why? Are you jealous? Is it because you're no longer the skinniest in the family?"

I was trying to get a rise out of her, but my vitriol only had the effect of making despair crawl into her expression. "You're right; I have told you both you're overweight. I've belittled you and made you feel ugly and probably unloved. I can't excuse it, but your grandmother raised me to believe people valued beauty over anything else. As long as I was beautiful, the world was my oyster. She had me in beauty pageants before I was old enough to walk. She thrived on the attention as much as I did.

"I thought if I encouraged you both to look your best, maybe it would make life easier for you. But when I saw you in the ER, I realized ... I knew I'd become my mother." She wiped at her eyes with a crumpled tissue she'd been holding in her lap.

I couldn't disagree with her. She'd been h.e.l.l to live with. My grandmother lived in Georgia, and we only saw her twice a year for holidays. The times we were around her, she would ask us a few vague questions and then ignore us for the rest of the visit. There had always been an underlying tension between my mother and her I never understood.

"Mom, get me out of here and I'll forget it all. I'll forgive you for every single thing," I offered, my voice thick with emotion. My mother's silence confirmed my suspicion she was considering the offer.

"No!" Lila's sharp tone startled us both.

I recoiled as she glared at me.

"You're not worming your way out of dealing with your problems, Kayla. You were close to dying, and if you keep starving yourself, the next time the hospital calls us it could be to identify your body."

I couldn't breathe, much less answer my sister. A knock on my door was a welcome interruption. A tall woman with brown hair graying at the temples came into the room. She pulled her lab coat closer and stuck out her hand. "How are you feeling, Kayla? My name is Dr. Huntington, and I'm one of the residents here at the hospital."

I took her hand and then dropped it quickly. "I'm all right, I guess." My mother and Lila had left me confused. I'd been certain all I needed was to escape this place. But things were getting thrown at me I wasn't sure how to process.

"Do you want to speak with me privately, Kayla? I'm sure you have a lot of questions," the doctor said kindly.

I shook my head. The doctor pulled one of the chairs closer to the bed and watched me carefully. "I'll be honest with you, Kayla, and I hope you'll consider offering me the same courtesy. Based on your blood tests and physical exam, as well as interviewing your mother, I believe I can help you come to a decision on how you want to proceed with your treatment."

"Okay..."

"You're ninety-six pounds, which is approximately fifteen pounds less than the minimum of what's considered a normal weight for your height. Your electrolytes are out of balance, which is probably what caused your episode last night and the reason I ordered IV fluids. Your EKG also showed an irregular heartbeat. Based on the history provided by your family, these conditions have resulted from your struggle with anorexia and bulimia." The doctor leveled her gaze at me and paused for a beat. "Any other symptoms I should know about?"

I looked forlornly at the tree line outside my window. "I haven't had a period since April." Silence greeted me and I added tonelessly, "I also have to use laxatives to go to the bathroom."

I should've been humiliated. But I wasn't. I was disconnected from the moment. I'd hit rock bottom and if I didn't start climbing my way out of the personal h.e.l.l I was in, I would never get my life back.

"How long have you been purging and using laxatives to get rid of calories?"

Something about the woman's straightforward manner was forcing the lies back down and driving the truth out. "Since January. I've lost forty-nine pounds since then." I tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. "I just wanted to lose some weight. I didn't want to be fat anymore. I never thought it would turn out this way."

Lila wrapped her arms around me, and I leaned into her embrace. My mother came around to the other side of my bed and draped her arm across my shoulders. I felt stronger all of a sudden. Their support could make me face whatever was about to come my way.

"Kayla, I made a call to the River Center Clinic on your behalf. It's an inpatient clinic for eating disorders, one of the best programs in the state. They have a bed open and you can be admitted immediately after your discharge from the hospital. It's a voluntary program, which means you must decide you want to get better. Since you're still in college and on your mother's insurance, it should cover most of your stay, but your mother has volunteered to pay the difference."

"How long would I stay there?"

"Treatment is individualized, but averages between one and three months. We obviously need more information about your case, so you'd be asked to fill out several questionnaires and undergo an initial a.s.sessment by the staff at River Center. They'd work with you to create a set of individualized goals for you to reach during your stay."

My pulse quickened as I thought about the expectations placed on me. The clinic would want to control what I ate. Could I give them that power over my body? I'd been obsessed with losing weight and the thought of being fattened up against my will was excruciating.

The panic must've been clear on my face because the doctor leaned forward and I could feel the sympathy aimed at me. "Kayla, this is going to be hard, but we don't expect miracles overnight. The clinic will teach you everything you need to know about how to make smart dietary choices. Your stay will involve individual counseling, group meetings, and supervised meals. I'll get a brochure for you to look at as well as the phone number of the facility in case you have any questions."

The truth was sinking in. This was really happening. I'd been certified as being unfit to live in the real world. I was being sent away to relearn the most basic of tasks-how to eat.

Chapter Twenty-Six.

As the sun set that evening, I came out of the trance I'd been in for hours. I was drowning in my own doubts. I envisioned the fat piling back onto my body. How could I stop dieting? I had suffered to get to where I was, and it was expected I give it all up. The doctor had dropped off information regarding the River Center. The nutritionists on staff eased patients into increasing their calorie intakes. Patient meal plans usually started at 1,000 to 1,500 calories per day before working up to 3,000 to 3,500 calories daily. Once weight gain was achieved, a normal diet could be resumed. When I read the numbers, I felt faint.

Lila's text alert chime brought me out of my dark thoughts. It had been going off all day and she'd been consistently sending off speedy replies. I gave her a questioning look. "You're very popular today."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and said nonchalantly, "Cameron has been texting and calling me non-stop. He's been asking to see you."

"What? He knows I'm here?" I sputtered out.

"Of course he does. I've been talking to him and Brittany every day trying to figure out where you've been all this time. I had to text them both when I found out you were in the emergency room. They wanted to visit as soon as you were checked in, but Mom said it wasn't a good idea."

My mother had left an hour before to collect my things from Marti's house. I made her promise not to physically hurt the girl while she was there, but I expected Marti would receive a tongue-las.h.i.+ng, Charlotte Marlowe style.

I was relieved to have a reprieve from my mother. Her need to make amends was too much for me to handle on top of my decision to go to the eating disorder clinic. She desired my absolution, but I couldn't simply pretend the past hadn't shaped the broken girl I'd become.

"I can't let him see me like this," I whispered, spinning my hospital bracelet over my bony wrists.

"I know, Kayla," Lila said kindly. "He's downstairs. I'll go talk to him and tell him it's not a good time."

"He's here?"

My heart fluttered and my chest tightened. Instantly, I was floored by the sensation of missing him. He was within reach and I was going to shut him out of my life again. Cameron had a million opportunities to move on, to forget all about me, but he stubbornly refused to let me go.

"I want to see him," I said with determination. Some losses were too great to bear. My father's death was something I was still struggling with, and I didn't want to lose another man who meant the world to me. "Can you help me fix my hair in the bathroom?" I murmured to Lila.

There was so much sadness in Lila's expression each time she looked at me. Her arm steadied me as I placed my feet on the tile floor. We took baby steps into the bathroom as I dragged my IV alongside me. I had avoided the mirror since I arrived, but it was time to take an honest look at my reflection.

My fingers wrapped around the edge of the sink and a sob dragged out of my body. I couldn't bear to stare at my reflection for more than a minute. I had thought starving myself would make me beautiful, but I'd turned into a sh.e.l.l of what I was. My hair was dull and thin, hanging limply past my shoulders. My eyes looked hollow, with purple shadows coloring the skin underneath. The skin on my face was dry and ruddy, my lips chapped and bleeding.