Hemorrhage.

“Emelie, being uncooperative will do nothing for you.” Dr. Meyers announced, crossing her ankles underneath her chair as she stared at me.

She was pissed. Her eyes said she was pissed, her face said that she was pissed. Basically, her anger was radiating off of her like fucking bad B.O. - I could sense it a mile away.

It was a bad day. I was cranky because the text messages were particularly nasty this morning - There will never be a guy blind enough to touch you. I was feeling disgusting because my mother made me eat two entire pieces of toast, with butter and peanut butter (“You’ll need the protein,” she had announced, lathering the blackened bread with three hundred calories that were going to rot on my thighs.) and sat there the entire time, until I finished every bite, and then immediately made us watch a movie so I couldn’t go get it up.

There were bags under my eyes because I hadn’t slept well and my hair felt greasy against my scalp, something that I particularly hated.

So when Dr. Meyers glowered at me, her eyes screaming with an unprofessional, “fuck you”, I said “fuck you” right back. In my mind, of course.

I hadn’t said a word to her, and I was already forty-five minutes into the meeting. There was no way in hell I was going to waste my breath on her. Fuck that.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

I felt like shit.

“Your mother is Paying good money for you to be here, Emelie. You shouldn’t waste her money.”

Then you shouldn’t gave suggested I come here. You’re the conniving bitch that convinced her I needed “help.”

It was one of the rare moments were I actually looked Dr. Meyers in the face. Normally I stared at my hands, the wall, everything else but her. I was feeling particularly bitchy, however, so I figured a few power glares would really lighten my mood.

That and spending fifty dollars at Safeway. I could get spinach dip, chips, cookies, German chocolate cake, potato salad…

As Dr. Meyers talked (annunciating my name with venom in every sentence) I dreamed of food. Grilled cheese sandwiches, tomato soup, and chocolate pudding.

I was a horrible vegan when I got like this - moody. I shoved the animal rights activist far, far inside of me and ate everything - except for meat, but that wasn’t so much as because I felt bad about murdering a chicken (because when I got like this, I was pissed enough to murder a human without compassion) but because meat was harder to throw up, it stuck to your intestines, and it was probably more fattening then eating twenty-cookies.

“Emelie, I don’t think either of us can handle this today,” she sighed, exasperated as she ran a chubby hand over her pancaked face.

I couldn’t have agreed with her more. I think it might have been the first thing I’d agreed with her on in the entire time of knowing her.

“I’m going to let you go early today.”

She said it and I was already standing up, snatching my bag and slamming the door shut behind me. It was Tuesday again. Our meeting on Thursday had been uncooperative as well, but Dr. Meyers had been willing to put up with it then.

I spent the weekend sitting at home, knitting a scarf and hiding underneath the covers. John hadn’t tried to contact me. Pat didn’t either. I felt like they were ignoring my existence.

There was a part of me that reacted to this, but I didn’t know which part. I didn’t know why I cared so much, because when I first decided that I moved back my first reaction was not to tell them. Originally, I hadn’t wanted to become a part of their lives anymore. I didn’t want to get attached. I wanted to feel temporary.

Now I felt differently. Maybe it was the way John reacted to me or maybe it was the text messages, but suddenly I was feeling lonely. I didn’t want prying eyes, roaming up and down my figure, but I wanted something.

I was wondering about the possibility of getting a job when I saw him, leaning against my car, his arms crossed over his chest.

My heart jumped - or fell, I couldn’t tell the difference. It seemed so cliché, this boy just showing up out of no where. I hadn’t talked to him in well over two and a half years. I stopped talking to him when I was still living here, due to the entire situation and not being able to handle his judgmental eyes. He was one of those people that was reversed in my mind - I should have cared what he thought. He was the only boy that had ever had any romantic interest in me, but yet I didn’t give a fuck.

To me, it didn’t matter what he thought of me. Probably because I subconsciously knew that he would never stop loving me.

I think I was his John.

“Yo,” he greeted, rising his hand into a peace sign as a hello gesture.

I nodded at him, my eyes furrowed as I didn’t see his car anywhere in the lot. It wasn’t that card to find a red sixteen seater with a trailer hitched to the back.

“How’d you get here? How’d you find me?”

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, unfolding his arms so he could shove his hands into the depths of his pockets.

“I have my ways.” He said vaguely. I didn’t take that shit. I raised my eyebrows and he chuckled. “Your mom told me where you were and I got dropped off.”

“Who dropped you off?”

“Nun ya beeswax, bitch.” He joked, pushing himself away from the car and taking a step towards me. I took a step back.

“C’mon, Emelie,” he rolled his eyes. “Don’t gotta play like that. I haven’t seen you in a while. Gimme a fucking hug, kid.”

I rolled my eyes with him, trying to play off a nervous chuckle as I thought of the way his arms felt around me. I didn’t like that idea. Those emotions took me back into a completely different time - a time I was over.

He extended his arms out to me, and I had no choice but to let him hug me. He towered over me (but not as much as John) and pressed me against his chest.

“I missed you, kid.” He whispered in my ear, his warm breath fanning over my face. “Fucking scared the shit outta me when I went over to your house to make amends and your mother told me that you moved out of the state. Couldn’t text me?”

It was a rhetorical question. I stayed quite, silently relishing in the feeling of his arms around me.

I couldn’t help but think that it felt nice.

“What do you want?” I asked him, rocking slightly in his arms. He hadn’t pulled away.

“Just your amazing hot body, love.” He whispered, and my eyes narrowed.

How fucking dare he! He wasn’t allowed to say shit like that. It was uncalled for. It was unnecessary.

I felt my eyes fill with tears of frustration, and I pulled away harshly, glaring at him. “Fuck you, Santino.” I hissed, my voice low.

Nick looked shocked. “Woah, woah, woah.” He said, pressing his hands up in sign of surrender. “I was just kidding, Emelie. Don’t’ take it personally.”

I glared at him, bringing my hands up to wipe at my eyes. Today was not the day for this. Nick immediately stepped closer to me, eliminating all personal space as he wrapped me up in his arms again.

“Shh, shh.” He cooed into my ear, his hands rubbing up and down my back. “I’m here, baby girl. I’m back. I’m back for good.”