Leaning forward, tears filled my eyes. With my elbows on my knees, I put my head in my hands and whispered out loud, “Axel. Please… please say this shit’s not you…”
Chapter Three
Lexi
“Are you still attending the meetings at college, sweetheart?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Are you still eating right? Still keeping your appointments with Dr. Lund?”
“Daddy! I’ve not missed one appointment! Not one in years. Can we stop raking over this ground every time you call?” I groaned.
My daddy was silent for a while, then spoke in a hushed tone. “Lexi, it’s your senior year. You’ve made the varsity cheer team, which you know is a trigger for you, and the pressure’s only getting more intense academically. And since Daisy passed…” Every muscle in my body instantly tensed. “Well, you can’t blame Momma and me for worrying about you handling it all.”
Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose between my finger and thumb. “I know. But I’m good, Daddy. I promise.”
“Okay, sweetheart.” The line went quiet and my daddy whispered, “I’m so proud of you. That you went out there, fought all your fears, and took back your life. I only wish we could’ve seen you.”
My throat was clogged as I heard the strength of emotion coming from my daddy. I hadn’t heard him like this since the day I’d left hospital. “I understand, Daddy. You have your patients to worry about. They’re more important than watching me cheer.”
He huffed out a small laugh. “They’re important, sweetheart. But I don’t think I’m ever as happy as when I watch you cheer. You get that look on your face, the one that tells me your soul is happy. It’s been too long since I saw you like that.”
“I know,” I said softly.
“Call us soon. And remember, we’re always here if you’re having a bad day.”
“Okay. Tell Momma I love her.”
“Stay strong, sweetheart.”
With that, he hung up and, minutes later, I was still gripping my cell. The one that tells me your soul is happy. I hadn’t realized my daddy thought that way. But then again, I didn’t care much about anyone or anything back when the voice had me in its hold. When my days were about counting grams of fat and denying myself food… about striving for perfection—thin and wonderful perfection. It was all about me. It was always about food.
I wasn’t selfish; counseling had taught me that. I was sick and couldn’t see beyond my goal… my… disorder.
I hated thinking about that time. It’s hard for me to remember how it felt, not because of the guilt, but because I may be tempted to go back. That temptation would always be there. There’d always be the chance that I’d fall again. But I’d come so far and it was too hurtful to think of the broken young girl I was back then.
Flopping back on my black, quilted bed, I stared at the patterns in the ceiling of my sorority room, then over to the calendar on my wall.
Over one thousand days had passed.
Four years today.
Four years ago, on this very day, I was announced cured, and my parents gave me permission to attend college. Local, of course. No way were they letting me move to another state where they couldn’t intervene if I relapsed.
Cured. A strange word. I knew I wasn’t cured—at least not really. I fought daily, hourly against the urge to go back to that time. I still regarded food as my enemy; extreme exercise and starvation were my friends. But I wouldn’t go back. Couldn’t. I was stronger. Improved. I had new friends, friends who knew nothing of my troubled past. I had a life again and I wouldn’t give it up. I had to keep moving forward, no retreat, no surrender.
Lexington, you have put on weight… interrupted the voice I fought so hard to quell, a haunting echo in the back of mind. Your hips are wider… There is cellulite on your thighs. You know how to get better. Just let me in, give yourself over to me…
He never left me. He was always there, waiting for the ideal moment to pounce. Waiting for me to weaken just enough to let him take back control.
Shaking my head, I pushed him back into his cave. He would not escape again. If he did, I knew he would eventually win, and I wouldn’t be able to go on. He would finally succeed in killing me.
A knock sounded at my door, and it burst open, jerking me from my dark thoughts. Cass, my blond Texan best friend, the girl who spoke without a filter. The saying was true: everything was bigger in Texas, including Cass. But I envied her. She owned it. Lived it. Wore her size with pride.
As soon as I saw her, I sat up straight, grinning wide, playing the role of the happy-go-lucky girl who always wears a smile. The girl who hides behind her makeup, the reinvented girl who came to UA to escape her past. That made-up girl is the only “Lexi” my friends have ever truly known.
“Yo, biotch! How’s it hangin’?” Cass walked into the room, wearing rhinestone jeans with her usual skintight black tank, and she slumped down on my black velvet loveseat at the side of the room.
“What you doing in bed at five p.m.?” Her blue eyes suddenly widened. “Oh shit! Were you flicking the bean? Do you need some…” She bowed her head and whispered behind her hand, “Lexi time?”
Grabbing my pillow, I groaned and launched it at Cass’s head just as she lifted her middle finger on her left hand, rotated it like a vibrator, and licked her lips. The pillow hit her square in the face, and she scowled.
Chapter Three
Lexi
“Are you still attending the meetings at college, sweetheart?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Are you still eating right? Still keeping your appointments with Dr. Lund?”
“Daddy! I’ve not missed one appointment! Not one in years. Can we stop raking over this ground every time you call?” I groaned.
My daddy was silent for a while, then spoke in a hushed tone. “Lexi, it’s your senior year. You’ve made the varsity cheer team, which you know is a trigger for you, and the pressure’s only getting more intense academically. And since Daisy passed…” Every muscle in my body instantly tensed. “Well, you can’t blame Momma and me for worrying about you handling it all.”
Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose between my finger and thumb. “I know. But I’m good, Daddy. I promise.”
“Okay, sweetheart.” The line went quiet and my daddy whispered, “I’m so proud of you. That you went out there, fought all your fears, and took back your life. I only wish we could’ve seen you.”
My throat was clogged as I heard the strength of emotion coming from my daddy. I hadn’t heard him like this since the day I’d left hospital. “I understand, Daddy. You have your patients to worry about. They’re more important than watching me cheer.”
He huffed out a small laugh. “They’re important, sweetheart. But I don’t think I’m ever as happy as when I watch you cheer. You get that look on your face, the one that tells me your soul is happy. It’s been too long since I saw you like that.”
“I know,” I said softly.
“Call us soon. And remember, we’re always here if you’re having a bad day.”
“Okay. Tell Momma I love her.”
“Stay strong, sweetheart.”
With that, he hung up and, minutes later, I was still gripping my cell. The one that tells me your soul is happy. I hadn’t realized my daddy thought that way. But then again, I didn’t care much about anyone or anything back when the voice had me in its hold. When my days were about counting grams of fat and denying myself food… about striving for perfection—thin and wonderful perfection. It was all about me. It was always about food.
I wasn’t selfish; counseling had taught me that. I was sick and couldn’t see beyond my goal… my… disorder.
I hated thinking about that time. It’s hard for me to remember how it felt, not because of the guilt, but because I may be tempted to go back. That temptation would always be there. There’d always be the chance that I’d fall again. But I’d come so far and it was too hurtful to think of the broken young girl I was back then.
Flopping back on my black, quilted bed, I stared at the patterns in the ceiling of my sorority room, then over to the calendar on my wall.
Over one thousand days had passed.
Four years today.
Four years ago, on this very day, I was announced cured, and my parents gave me permission to attend college. Local, of course. No way were they letting me move to another state where they couldn’t intervene if I relapsed.
Cured. A strange word. I knew I wasn’t cured—at least not really. I fought daily, hourly against the urge to go back to that time. I still regarded food as my enemy; extreme exercise and starvation were my friends. But I wouldn’t go back. Couldn’t. I was stronger. Improved. I had new friends, friends who knew nothing of my troubled past. I had a life again and I wouldn’t give it up. I had to keep moving forward, no retreat, no surrender.
Lexington, you have put on weight… interrupted the voice I fought so hard to quell, a haunting echo in the back of mind. Your hips are wider… There is cellulite on your thighs. You know how to get better. Just let me in, give yourself over to me…
He never left me. He was always there, waiting for the ideal moment to pounce. Waiting for me to weaken just enough to let him take back control.
Shaking my head, I pushed him back into his cave. He would not escape again. If he did, I knew he would eventually win, and I wouldn’t be able to go on. He would finally succeed in killing me.
A knock sounded at my door, and it burst open, jerking me from my dark thoughts. Cass, my blond Texan best friend, the girl who spoke without a filter. The saying was true: everything was bigger in Texas, including Cass. But I envied her. She owned it. Lived it. Wore her size with pride.
As soon as I saw her, I sat up straight, grinning wide, playing the role of the happy-go-lucky girl who always wears a smile. The girl who hides behind her makeup, the reinvented girl who came to UA to escape her past. That made-up girl is the only “Lexi” my friends have ever truly known.
“Yo, biotch! How’s it hangin’?” Cass walked into the room, wearing rhinestone jeans with her usual skintight black tank, and she slumped down on my black velvet loveseat at the side of the room.
“What you doing in bed at five p.m.?” Her blue eyes suddenly widened. “Oh shit! Were you flicking the bean? Do you need some…” She bowed her head and whispered behind her hand, “Lexi time?”
Grabbing my pillow, I groaned and launched it at Cass’s head just as she lifted her middle finger on her left hand, rotated it like a vibrator, and licked her lips. The pillow hit her square in the face, and she scowled.
