Cut

Jenna and I stand in frozen silence for a long time. Then, I cannot take it anymore. I start to walk to the bathroom exit. But just as my finger reaches the doorknob, Jenna pulls me back and forces me to look at her. The rings around her eyes are darker than mine and she looks like she might break at any given moment. Her bony fingers are clutched around my arm. I feel like a whale compared to Jenna and it scares me.

She looks me straight in the eyes. Her own are a dark blue. They look pleading.

Jenna: Please. Don't. Tell. I'm almost a level two.

I am confused.

Me: How long have you been here?

She looks down at the ground and releases me. Then, she looks up at me again.

Jenna: Almost two months.

Me: And how long have you been doing this?

She breathes in and out quickly. Every three breaths of hers are one of my own.

Jenna: I've been b-bulimic for about a year. I can't stop. Please don't tell. I want to go home.

Me: Jenna, if you're not getting better-

She interrupts me.

Jenna: I don't want to get better! I'm fine. I don't have a problem and I'm tired of everybody telling me that I do. I don't, okay? I don't have a problem.

Me: Jenna. That's why we're here. We don't think that anything is wrong but it obviously is or we wouldn't be here.

Tears flood my eyes but I don't know why.

Jenna looks at me with an even more pained look on her face. She has tears in her eyes too.

Jenna: Why are you here?

I look down at my arm and pause. Then, I very slowly push back my sleeve. The cuts appear.

Jenna's eyes get big.

Jenna: I won't tell.

Me: I won't tell, either.

Jenna: But promise me something? Don't do it again.

Me: I won't if you won't.

Jenna looks back down at the floor and back up at me. A single tear falls down her cheek.

Jenna: Deal.