The ED Diaries

When Wolf saw the glowering Seabrook Clinic as she was led out of the car by a kind nurse sent on the plane with her, she felt the strong urge to vomit every last thing she ate into the pretty red roses lining the front of the mansion – or whatever she didn’t eat. Diet pills weren’t considered food, unless it’s considered pretty food. In all honesty – and she could not not be honest with her sick self – she wanted to die right there, in the entrance.

“I don’t want to go,” she whimpered, reddening her eyes even more. She heaved and hyperventilated and cried her blue eyes out on the plane, but now the anxiety was creeping up on her. She’d had to eat, she’d have to get better, she’d have to do everything in her power to stay thin. Then she’d go home, and return to her parents and continue modeling and she’d forget about this bullshit and get back to her life.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” the nurse said as she helped Wolf up the steps. The girl was shaking. This whole experience terrified her. “Don’t you want to get better? You’ll be so much--”

“I want to be fucking pretty!” Wolf screamed as the front doors were opened and the nurse couldn’t help but feel grateful that the girl was there now. She needed the help.

The doctor – a woman dressed in all white - at the door looked at the skeletal girl with a worried gaze as the nurse ushered Wolf in and had her sit down in a bland room near the entrance, filled with medical paraphernalia, while she went to bolt the door. “Alexandra, welcome to Seabrook Clinic. I’m Dr. Cole,” the doctor said, smiling. “You’re in a very safe environment—“

“My name is Wolf,” Wolf sneered, looking down at her bony knees. “And I don’t care. I want to go home. I want my mom.”

Dr. Cole sighed. “Alright. Wolf, there are many, many people who want you to get better. Don’t you want to feel good about yourself?”

“I want to be pretty. Pretty and skinny.”

“Do you not feel pretty, hon? I, for one, think that you’re stunning.”

“No. I’m ugly and fat and nobody likes me.”

Dr. Cole reached over and patted Wolf’s thing blonde hair. “You’ll be alright. We’ll help you all throughout this process. You’ll never be alone. And look at the brightside, you’ll get to see your parents every weekend.” While she was talking, she went over to the small counter in the back, washed her hands, and returned with a thermometer and a blood pressure cuff. The cuff was tiny, fit to probably go around a baby’s arm, not a seventeen year old girl.

“I’ll just take your temperature,” Dr. Cole said and put the white thermometer under Wolf’s pale tongue. She wanted a moment till it beeped and took it away, recording the abnormally low temperature: 89.4. She conspicuously shook her head; she was in Wolf’s position a long time ago. She knew what it felt like not to feel worthy of anything and anyone. Beauty, weight, looks – that was all that mattered in the world these days. And kids died because of that.

“Put your arm out for me,” Dr. Cole said and Wolf did so silently and the doctor slipped the cuff on the girl’s thin arm and pressed the start button. She heard Wolf whimpering a few times as the cuff tightened, winding around more bone veins than flesh. The rest of the preliminary exam went along uncomfortable for Wolf; she didn’t want help and neither did she want to talk to anyone.

Wolf forced herself to listen and not fall asleep as the doctor recited the rules: no jackets or blankets at dinner, we don’t want sneaks, don’t even try bringing in razors or the like, they’ll be found and tossed away, be respectful to the other patients and staff, if you need help, don’t be afraid to ask, we’re here for you, darling, fights are not tolerated, this is a positive recovering environment, you’re currently at level 1 with limited freedoms…

By that, Wolf was already drifting. Crying and screaming tired her out and Dr. Cole’s words blurred together.

“Is that clear?” The words knocked Wolf from her sleepy trance and Wolf snapped her blue eyes open wide, her face turning into a ghastly shade of gray. The last meal that was forced down her throat was coming up – fast. Black dots swam in front of her eyes; they flashed and appeared again like the camera flashes that she was so used to. The fluorescent like blinded her and she wasn’t standing in front of the photographer anymore…

“Dr. Cole, I need to vomit,” she said as she tried to calm herself and walked over to the sink and vomited stomach acid and the pretty pills as the voice that so hated her screamed in her mind.