Cross My Heart

Ivy leaned over the toilet, puking out the supper she was forced to eat a little under thirty minutes ago. She continued to lean over the the toilet, holding her hair back as she threw up more food mixed with stomach acid. A small groan escaped her lips as she let herself drop to the floor, breathing unsteadily. She let go of her brown hair, letting it fall onto her shoulders lightly. Soon enough, there was a knock at the bathroom door, forcing Ivy to pull herself up off the ground with the help of the toilet. She flushed the vomit and moved slowly towards the sink.

"One minute!" She snapped to the person continuously knocking on the door to the bathroom, asking if she was alright.

She turned on the tap and washed her face, looking at herself in the mirror. She shook her head at the skeleton like body in front of the mirror. Her cheek bones stood out, along with her hip bones. One could see her ribs as clear as day when she took off her shirt, and there were scars on her knuckles from her trying to stick her fingers down her throat to make herself vomit. She also took not of the big black bags under her eyes from the chronic insomnia she was diagnosed with almost right after her parents were informed that she was anorexic. It was almost two years ago since they were put out in the open, and her parents have been trying to force her to eat a full meal ever since.

She put her thin hand on the door and pulled it open, her dull gray eyes staring into the worried blue eyes of her mother.

"Did you puke again?" Her mother asked quietly.

Ivy didn't say anything as she brushed past her mother and went down the hall to her room. Her mother followed quickly behind her, knowing the answer to her question.

"You really need to stop this Ivy. It's destroying your life. You used to be so full of life, and now your just so dull." Her mother whispered, following Ivy into her room.

"I don't care, leave me alone." Ivy snapped, glaring daggers at her mother.

"No, I can't just...-"

"Just leave!" Ivy screamed, walking over to her mother, she shoved the older woman out of her room and slammed the door on her face.

She thought back to the times when she used to go out all the time with her friends to the beach, when she had her perfect boyfriend Todd. The times when she was full of life, and never fought with or snapped at her parents. Honestly, she felt bad for it, but if they would just leave her alone for once. Every second word that came out of their mouth was 'help' and 'therapy'. She didn't want help from anyone, she just wanted to be left alone to shrivel up and die.

Ivy let out a small sigh, glancing around her room. She had broken every mirror in the room so she didn't have to look at her disgusting self anymore. She replaced her bright blue blankets with black blankets and curled up in them at night, thinking about things she would never find herself thinking about when she was the least bit normal. She would think about suicide, she would think about how things would be like with out her. Sometimes she would even imagine herself in a coffin, nothing but skin and bones. She imagined that no one would be at her funeral after she blew them off because she didn't feel like going out anymore.

She thought about how her life took a drastic turn for the worst.

She thought about what she put her family through for the last two years.

She thought about how they must feel with a daughter that they're so disappointed in.

With every negative though, there as a small glint of hope that she would get better. She wanted, and tried so hard to cooperate with the plans for her to get better, but she didn't want to take the sleeping pills. She didn't want to eat anything. She didn't want to go to therapy daily. She didn't like spewing her feelings out to a person who just acted like they cared. She was tired of people pretending to care about her, she was tired of people saying that they would help, but in the end, they would just give up.

Since everyone gave up on her, she gave up on herself, and in the past two years, everything has only gotten worst, to the point where she would pass out from the lack of nutrition, to the point where she would wake up in the hospital. To the point where the doctor said if she kept up with this, she would eventually die by it.

Dieing seemed like the best way to end everything.

Death was like an eternal sleep, that would make up for the two years she's barely gotten any sleep.

Death seemed like an escape from all the supposed to be friends. Like an escape from herself.

Deep in her heart, she knew she could do something about it.

Maybe it was time she started to try?

If not for her back stabbing friends, then for her mother with high hopes? For her father who seems to be worried sick for her? Her older brother who came home from college to try and help her through the bad times?

If she wasn't going to try for a stranger sitting in a fancy rolling chair, taking notes about her feelings, why not try for the ones who weren't strangers to her heart?