༺ THIRTY - SIX ༻

Now that Thomas is gone, I notice I've been underestimating the little things that have been happening lately.

The dizziness, my hair getting thin like that, the marks on my spine of all the sit ups I do, the constant coldness, and the black dots.

I've shaken them off before, but now that I have less people I actually hang out with, I notice it's not very enjoyable to have at all. In this one first week that Thomas is gone, I'm already sick of it.

I have to find something that'll keep everything balanced. The number just can't go up. I doubt I've lost enough by now, I'm not satisfied yet, but the most important thing is that it can't go up. But I also need to stop feeling this hollow. How?

No idea.

I'll start by looking in the mirror. I've refused to look at my body the last weeks. Not once, I have looked, and when I accidentally see myself in the mirrors at ballet, I don't look at my body.

If I look now, I can see if it will matter if I stop losing weight. If I'll be okay with staying with this body type or if it has to be different.

I slowly slide my pants off, not looking just yet, and then my sweater. It's annoying to take the shirt below my sweater off. It's such a struggle because it's so tight and my arms don't have the strength to pull that off all the time.

I breathe in before I glare in the mirror, only wearing my undergarments. And I look away three seconds later.

That's not me. The bloody mirror is cursed.

I decide to take another look. My hips aren't like that. They're not curved around my bones in whatever ugly way that was, and neither is the skin around my ribs.

Just then, there's a knock. I've only managed to take my clothes in my hands when the door opens, and Sonya walks in.

Out of instinct, I turn my back to her. I feel exposed. I don't like it. "Sonya!"

With Thomas... I don't know. It's gotten harder showing my body. But most of the time he actually has a chance to see it, it's in the dark. Otherwise, he never said anything about it and he for sure never stared at me like Sonya is doing right now.

"What?" I snap. The word comes out meaner than I intended to, but I don't want my own sister to be on the list of people who've stared.

And just like that, she's gone. Smashed the door closed and ran away. I'm left alone, confused and a bit sad.

Whatever, I'll look again. I turn back to the mirror. Forcing myself to keep looking is like torture. I want to look away, but I won't allow myself.

I can see my ribs, Janson was right about that. Yes, my legs are shaking beneath my body, but come on. My clothes don't fit, alright. He's been right, but haven't I agreed all the time? This is just the first time I see proof.

My door slams open for another time, and from surprise, I turn around with a gasp. Can they leave me alone for a second?

There Sonya is again. Next to her, I see Mom. Sonya's eyes are wide and desperate, and Mom slowly lifts an hand to her open mouth.

I start putting my clothes on as fast as I can. "What is it?"

Mom blinks a few times, and she shudders. "Oh, love..." She moves closer. My legs move away automatically. "Rose, my baby..." She mutters. Once she reaches me, she takes my hand. Hers is warm against mine, and mine somewhat disappears. "Sonya, go to your room."

"What?" I see the tears in Sonya's eyes and then the ones in Mom's. They can't be crying over my body. It sounds too ridiculous for words. "Did something happen?"

"Just follow me for a second."

✵

I awake with a fast heartbeat, my breaths a bit ragged. She didn't just sedate me or anything, right?

It takes something to peel my eyes open. They don't want to, and neither does my whole body. I feel heavy as stone.

After I've managed to take a quick look around, I realize I'm in my room. In my bed. At eleven AM. Man, I slept long.

Whatever, I'm mostly just hoping what just happened was a dream. I suppose it was. Why else would I be here now?

I just know that if it was a dream, I don't want it to happen in real life. Sonya and Mom crying? Neither am I going to look in the mirror anytime soon. I'm alright in these oversized clothes.

I force my legs to work. I barely feel them while they do so, but at least they're moving now. My hand reaches to my forehead once I'm standing: it hurts.

But I can't go back in bed now. I feel like if I do, I won't be able to get back up anymore.

I don't change into new clothes and make my way downstairs in such a slow pace it almost irritates me. It was the same thing yesterday, though. I should've predicted it.

I drink six glasses of water and feel maybe a little better, but not amazing. Partly because Thomas isn't here. He'd help without even knowing it.

One more week, I tell myself. One more week of fasting, then I'll stop throwing up every single dinner, too. I used to only take the laxatives, until it felt like it wasn't enough. Now I realize I obviously can't dance in this state. So one more week, because no one is here to stop me, and then I'll try to get back in a... more normal rhythm.

I do sit down on a bar chair before my legs completely give up on the heavy parts above it, and rest my head on my palm.

Thomas is having a great time, he said. Him and Chuck play in the snow almost everyday, although they keep slipping. At night, they drink hot chocolate by the fireplace and then go to sleep with sight on the cold landscape.

"Christmas!" Sonya comes running down the stairs with excitement all over her face. "It's Christmas Eve!"

I blink a few times. Totally forgot. "Really?"

Sonya gives me a big nod. "I can't wait until the evening, dude! Also, you alright?"

I nod. I think it was a dream after all, or Sonya just isn't showing what happened.

"I'm going on my run," I say. It's a habit. Every morning, no matter what. I'm feeling bad today? No excuse.

I tie my shoes and still leave in the same clothes, my sweatpants and a sweater. I won't get very warm anyways.

✵

"Kid, are you alright?"

My eyes open again. Another dream? No, I don't recognize the voice. And it's not my bed I'm lying on.

It's... concrete.

"Hey." A hand wipes in front of my eyes. "Don't doze off again. How do you feel?"

If the headache from this morning wasn't bad, than this one for sure is. I sit up, slowly and unsteady, then trail my eyes over the location.

Road, houses, grass in the distance, bench right next to me. It's where Minho and I took a break the first time we ran together.

"Everything alright? Here, maybe something sugary will help. I'll try to find something."

I frown at the man in front of me. Except for a red beard, he hasn't got any hair on his head. "What happened? My head.."

"I think you passed out. Were just sitting on this bench before you fell off. Might've hit your head," he explains.

"Oh," is all I can manage.

"I don't really have any sweets or something to make you feel better. Is your home nearby?"

I nod. "I'll make it. It's just low iron."

"Great," he says. His eyes are genuine enough for me to see he's not a creep. "Will you be alright?"

I nod again. It hurts my head, but I still do it. "Yeah, I'll be—"

"Frenzy?"

Have. To. Be. Kidding.

I look up, still sitting on the ground since I never gave up any energy to sit on the bench and the man never touched me, and yup, there Minho is.

"What're you doing here?" He asks, a deep frown on his face. His eyes trail from the man to me. "On the ground?"

The man also looks, but from Minho to me. He stops at me. "You know him?"

I nod for a third time. "I do. He's a friend."

"Then I suggest he takes you home," he says. He gets up to be face to face with Minho. "Will that be alright?"

"Sure."

"Awesome. Make sure she eats or drinks something to get her blood pressure up. You'll be okay."

"Thank you." I give him the best smile I have. He returns one, then disappears out of sight.

Minho holds out his hand to pull me up, which happens so fast that I get dizzy again, but I don't show it. "What was that all about?"

"Low iron, remember?" I let go of a breath. "I sat down to relax my breaths, then it just happened. What're you doing here, by the way?"

"Went on my run until I saw my friend's little sister on the ground with a stranger in front of her," he mutters. "Newt will kill me one day."

"Not if he doesn't find out about anything. You don't have to tell him this," I say. "Also, you can call me a friend too. I'm not just Newt's little sister."

Minho exhales. "Yup. Got it, Frenzy. Let's go now, before you faint again."

We start walking in silence, my head pointed to the ground. I watch my feet move, unsteadier than a few weeks ago, as I hide my hands in my sleeves, the coldness making me shiver.

"You should've worn a jacket," he comments.

"But you were also on your run and you're also not wearing a jacket."

"But I keep my body warm while running. You should know if you're able to do that."

"I am able to do that!" I defend. "Otherwise I wouldn't be running every morning."

Maybe I do run a bit slow, but that's alright.

Minho lets go of it once we arrive at the front door. I struggle with taking my keys and unlocking the door, since I barely feel my hands.

Minho notices and takes the keys from me. On accident, he touches my skin. "Woah! You're ice cold, Rose."

"It's alright," I say. "Should've worn gloves. They'll warm up once I'm inside."

"They better." Minho unlocks the door. Before I can vanish, which I hoped to do so I wouldn't get an interview from him, he takes my arm. "Are you okay?"

I stare into his eyes. Nod with a lump in my throat. "I'm fine," but it comes out hoarse.

"I'm here if you need to talk, alright?" He lowers his voice. I hate it because it makes me emotional. Probably because Minho isn't the type I'd choose to have conversations like this with. He never seems very affected by his own feelings. Guess he just doesn't show them.

"I mean," he continues, "Thomas and Teresa are out of town and I don't think you enjoy telling your siblings everything."

I nod, forcing a smile. "Thank you, Minho. I'm here too, if you need anything."

He smiles back. "Good to know. Now get inside before you freeze your ass off. Thomas won't be happy with that."

Though the comment is stupid, it makes me smile. "Bye. And thanks for bringing me home."

"Third time already. You owe me. It's Christmas Eve, perhaps give me some hair gel," he says. After a few seconds, he chuckles. "See ya, Frenzy."

"Bye," I repeat, a little happier than I was when I woke up.