Wilted

Rachel knocked on my door at 9:30 again the next day. I stumbled out of bed, rubbing my eyes, and let her in. She handed me the tablets but stood in the doorway preventing me from closing her out.

“I talked to Mrs. Green.” Rachel stated, making me sigh in annoyance. “We’re going out for brunch.”

I signalled to the pyjamas I was currently wearing. “No, we’re not.”

She walked into my house, sat at the seat I had let her sit on the first time she came, and crossed her arms. “Get dressed in the bathroom then.”

I groaned but shuffled over to my wardrobe, dragging out some jeans and a hoodie then going to my bathroom to change. I rarely changed near a mirror. After all that happened I’m too afraid to see what has become of the body I used to love.

I changed quickly. Making sure to keep my back to the mirror.

I grabbed my purse from my bed side table and reluctantly followed Rachel to wherever we were going.

***

We walked in silence and I picked at the skin on the back of my hand to stop panic from setting in. I could walk alone in public, blend into the crowd and be nothing more than meaningless face in a mass of them, but with another person I felt obvious. I was suddenly a person bigger, like I made up two faces in the crowd not one.

We arrived at a small café and sat on the comfortable sofa seats at the back. I ordered a glass of tap water and a slice of brown toast. I rarely ate breakfast, I tended to wake up feeling sick to my stomach after my nights of restless sleep.

Rachel ordered a large mocha and a panini and I felt sickness to the bottom of my stomach looking at the meal.

Silently, we ate.

After what must have been about ten minutes of silence I finally, albeit it painfully, broke it.

“Why are we here?” I inquired stubbornly, swirling my water with my finger.

“Mrs. Green thought it would be beneficial for us to gain some trust.” Rachel replied simply. “So, here we are.”

“She thinks I have trust issues.” I stated, mad that this had been shared.

Rachel smirked, “She knows you have trust issues. It’s rather obvious, Kat.”

I stubbornly refused to reply and ripped at the left-over crusts of my toast.

“Something happened to you, didn’t it?” Rachel inquired.

I sighed, not wanting to touch the subject again, “Something.”