WHAT ARE YOU SAYING, Wendy? Are you just going to give up? If you give up now, that stupid monster's going to end up winning again. Get up, Wendy.

Get up!

I sprang up. Strangely, I wasn't at the bustop, neither was it nighttime anymore. The sky was bright and clear, providing light in this unfamiliar room that smelled of iodine and other weird scents that I couldn't quite decipher.

I was sitting up on a small bed, wearing a funny-looking gown, and a drip was connected to my right arm. I picked up the thin tube that connected the drip bag to the cannula attached to my hand and watched as the liquid ran down in drops.

The door opened and a nurse walked into the hospital room, holding a nursing progress note. As our gazes met, her eyes slightly widened.

"Ah, good morning, miss. How are you feeling today?" She asked, approaching my bed.

"I'm fine," I faintly said.

"And your tummy, does it still hurt?" She inquired as she checked my drip.

I shook my head in the negative.

"Alright. Give me a minute, I'll be back with the doctor," she said and headed for the door, scribbling down something in her note.

"Uhm, nurse!" I yelled out before she could shut the door behind her.

"You called for me?" The lady asked with a smile, walking back into the room.

I raised my right arm up, making the tube to lifelessly dangle beside me, "The nutrients in this drip won't affect my weight, would it?"

The nurse stared at me for a hot minute and smiled, "You're fine, miss. A little nutrient won't hurt."

I nodded, dropping my hand back on the bed.

A little nutrient might hurt a little too much.

"Do you have any other question or request? Feel free to talk to me about anything," she said calmly.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you."

"Then, I'll be taking my leave now. Excuse me."

The door clicked behind her and I returned to staring at my hand.

I must have passed out again on the sidewalk. What sort of weak body was this?

I stared around the bed.

And where was my food and my bag too?

I held my head. My memory of the previous night was quite hazy but they came back to me in bits. I could recall regaining consciousness again in the hospital and having to answer some questions from the doctor before they ran some tests on me.

So, I did get up, not just how I wanted to.

The room door opened again and my gaze slid up to see who was coming in.

"Good morning, Miss. Davis. You're feeling better than yesterday, I presume," the doctor asked, walking in with the nurse from earlier.

"Yes, doc," I nodded.

I watched Thomas walk in behind the doctor and damn, he looked dissappointed. As our eyes met, I just had to look away. I couldn't endure having to see him like that.

The doctor wore his stethoscope and checked my heartbeat, speaking to the nurse while she took down notes. I couldn't even pay attention to what was being said by the doctor because the ringing image of Thomas's face constantly haunted me.

"And you do not feel tired?" The doctor asked.

"Are you talking to me?" I inquired, jolting out of my thoughts.

"Yes, Miss," he slowly said, "Are you feeling tired?"

"Well, I'm a little weak but I guess it's because I just woke up," I said.

I stole a glance at Thomas and realised that he was still staring at me with that heart-crushing gaze. It was better to be in hell than to go through this.

"Miss. Davis," the doctor started.

"Yes, doc?" I slid my gaze over to him.

"Our test for hypoglycemia came out positive," he stated calmly, "Not to worry, it's not that serious. All we would have to do is change your diet and have you on specific medications."

I frowned, "Change my diet?"

"Yes, your diet," Thomas firmly said.

The doctor turned to him, "Please, allow me handle this. Okay?"

Thomas stared at me, then back at the doctor as he bit the inside of his lower lip.

The doctor nodded and turned back to me, "So, Miss. Davis, as I was saying earlier, we will have to adjust your diet. You see, the lack of glucose in your body has caused your blood sugar to drop really low and that is why you're experiencing some of the symptoms of hypoglycemia, like vasovagal syncope."

"Huh?" I leaned in.

"You're fainting," he summarised.

"Oh," I leaned back.

Why did doctors use such big words when there were normal words that meant the same thing? We get it, you're a medical practitioner and that's a big deal but can you just speak with words that peasants like we non-medical practitioners understand?

"Wait," I suddenly frowned, "So, I'd have to eat more?"

"Oh, God!" I heard Thomas mutter under his breath.

"Yes. It's for the sake of your health," the nurse said, smiling.

"You are on a diet, am I correct? You mentioned so yesterday," the doctor continued.

"Yes, I am," I said, "I just started about three months ago and I really want to keep to it."

"Miss. Davis, your diet isn't very healthy for you," Doc confessed, "You indicated that you diet includes eating only once a day, right?"

I glanced at Thomas, then stared at the doctor, "Yes, doc but it never affected my health at all."

The nurse smiled even harder, embarrassed on my behalf.

"Miss. Davis, your diet is the cause of your low blood sugar," the doctor gently said, "Your diet heavily lacks carbohydrates."

"We're going to place you on another diet," he added.

"Will that make me fat?" I asked with widened eyes.

"No, you won't be fat but you'll add on a little weight."

Oh no.

"Isn't there another way around this?" I asked.

I cannot... I must not put on any more weight. If I could just finish my diet, I was sure I would get to like how lean I looked. I couldn't afford to lose again. I couldn't afford to look any less hotter than Carlos's girlfriend.

"Place her on the diet, doc," Thomas said to the doctor before turning to stare at me, "I'll see that she adheres to it. Strictly."

"Alright. Come with me please," the doctor said to Thomas, walking out of the hospital.

Wait, no. No. No. No. No!

I stretched my hand in front of me, "Doc-"

The nurse who was still standing beside me caught my hand and placed it back on the bed, "You'll be alright, Miss. The diet's not going to make you overweight. It's just to provide you with the nutrients you need to prevent your blood sugar from sinking even lower. You wouldn't want to keep having tummy aches and passing out, would you?"

"No," I said, staring at my laps.

"Then, you should keep to this diet," she advised.

The nurse picked up the IV bag and on realising that it was empty, she walked out. I stared lifelessly, unsure if I should even think at all. What was there to think of when it was already decided for me?

The nurse walked back into the room with a pair of gloves on and she gently disconnected the IV cannula from my hand.

"You'll be discharged soon," she said as she cleaned the back of my hand with a alcohol-bathed cotton swab and applied a band-aid, "Once your boyfriend gets your diet plan and medications."

"Can I stay off the diet if I notice I'm getting fat?" I asked.

"Miss Davis, may I ask you a question?" The nurse inquired.

"Okay."

"Do you happen to have a private therapist?"

I stared at her with a weird look on my face but she didn't budge.

Was she trying to call me crazy?

"No, I don't," I replied firmly.

"If you wouldn't mind an advice from me, you should get a therapist," she said, "I'm certain it'll do you good to do so."

"What does that mean? Do I look mentally unstable in any way to you?"

If I had the chance, I'd grab this lady's hair and smash her head onto the wall.

"No, Miss. Davis, that's not what I intend to say. You're a little concerned about your weight and you're skipping meals alot to the point where your bones are starting to show. Those are symptoms of anorexia."

What the hell was this lady yapping about? All I wanted was to be slim enough to my liking, and then I'll finally win the bet. This was no different from going to the gym or taking early-morning jogs.

What the hell was anorexia?

"I think I'm fine," I stated.

If she was labelling my determination to be fit as anorexia, then maybe she wasn't a professional nurse. I'd love to see her certificate.

"Please, think over it again," she took a small rectangular-shaped card out of her pocket and placed it on the bed, "Here's my friend's business card. She's a psychologist."

She nodded in encouragement and walked out of the hospital room with the empty drip without saying anything else to me. Picking up the card from the bed, I stared at the contact information of the psychologist.

I didn't need this shit.

I tore the card into two and tore it again, squeezing the pieces of cardboard in my hand.

I definitely didn't need it. She was just toying with my mind to get me to spend my money. Maybe her friend was running short of cash and needed any means to get paid, so this stupid nurse was trying to confuse me to help her friend get some money.

The nurse walked back into the room and saw the bits of cardboard in my hands before I could hide them. She stared at me for a second, then softly exhaled.

"Please, come with me," she said, "You'll need to sign some papers before your discharge."

I got up from the hospital bed and with her help, I walked out of the room, leaving behind the scrunched up bits of hard cardboard on the bedsheets.

I was fine and I didn't need any help.

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Tip: Wendy's weight dropped from 53kg to 44kg. She is 5'4.