I woke up in a hospital bed. Well, now I really wasn’t going to get out of what was about to happen. Mom, Dad, and Sophie were at my bedside, all looking relieved. Their smiles made me feel nice before I felt all the pain in my body. I had a splitting headache, and my throat felt like it was on fire.

“Ben!” Mom said, giving me a hug. “Oh Ben, don't do that again!”

“Diane, don’t choke him,” Dad warned. “He just woke up.”

Mom’s hug was partially crushing my chest because of how I was positioned in the bed. She lightened up and eventually let go.

“Ben,” he continued. “When I said you’re like your mother, I didn’t mean all the way to ending up in the hospital too.”

“You think if we come here often enough, I’ll get a ward named after me?” Mom wondered out loud.

“I think we should get a discount for how often we come here,” grumbled Dad.

I couldn’t help but notice Sophie giving me a glare that was somehow worried, caring, and threatening my life all in one stare. I would’ve gulped if my throat had allowed it, but it just didn’t want to do its job, so I just awkwardly glanced away.

“So why am I here?” I asked.

“...What?” Mom asked, not really believing I said that apparently.

“Um, why am I here?” I asked again.

“Check your head, genius.” Sophie said, tapping her temple.

I felt the side of my head and could feel soft bandages wrapped around it. Oh. I guess I did hit something on my way down. Wouldn’t have thought it was that bad… but I also didn’t feel it at all in the moment, so who am I to say?

“If I’m fine, can I go then?”

“You’re not fine,” said Sophie.

“And you’re not going,” Mom finished. “The doctor’s told us some interesting things, Ben. About the state of your body.”

“Interesting, huh?” I nervously laughed. Most of what Mom found interesting had been dead for a few thousand years. “How so?”

“The doctor said your esophagus is very inflamed and irritated.” Dad said. “It probably burns and aches, right?” I nodded. “He says that whatever has been going on, it can cause permanent damage if you keep going.”

I went to say something, but Sophie interrupted.

“Nuh uh. You’ve got your speaking rights revoked. Shut up and listen.” she demanded.

Ouch. She really wasn’t happy then. On top of not doing what she said, I probably ruined her night with her friends. So I guess I can’t blame her too much.

“We’ve told the doctor what was going on,” Dad continued. “And he says that if you keep going at your current rate… you could risk ripping your esophagus and causing stomach bleeding in the future.”

“Oh…” I whispered, not realizing the impact of what it would have on me.

“So no, you’re not fine.” Sophie growled.

“Sophie, please calm down.” Dad said patiently. “Your brother’s been through a lot tonight, and-”

“No, Dad!” she fussed, surprising us all. “You’re all going to act calm because it’s Ben. Because you don’t want to scare him, or make him panic, or whatever other stupid reason you have. But no, I’m not going to, because this is real, and this is dangerous, and you should know that better than anyone!” she said, pointing at Mom. “I’m done sugar-coating this for Ben. Now I’m finally the only one being reasonable!”

None of us knew what to say, but Dad put his hand on her shoulder.

“Let’s talk outside,” he said. He turned to Mom and I. “We’ll be out for a few minutes.”

Dad and my sister walked out of the hospital room, leaving just Mom and I alone. I didn’t really want her seeing me like this. I remember seeing her in a hospital bed once when I was young. I didn’t understand what was going on at the time.

“Ben, are you… are you understanding what we’re saying?” Mom asked with a pained expression.

“Yeah, I get it,” I grumbled.

“But you’re not planning to stop.”

“Come on Benjie, look at yourself. Do you really need to stop when you still look like that in the mirror?” the voice in my head hissed.

“Mom-”

“Are you?”

I glanced to the side again, ashamed.

“No,” I sighed truthfully.

“Well Ben, I think we need to get you help then.”

“Mom, I don’t need-”

“No, you don’t want help. I didn’t either when I was young, and it almost killed me.”

“Really…?” I asked. Mom and Dad talked about her issues when she was young sometimes, but not in detail.

“Yep. Maybe when you’re older, you can hear the full story.”

“Yeah,” I nodded.

“But right now, lay down,” she ordered. “Because honestly, the next week or so is about to be pretty hard on you.”

*   *   *   *   *

I didn’t think much of what Mom said about the next week being hard, but boy was it just the worst. If I see another therapist or doctor again, I might scream. The only good part about the following week was that I got to stay home from school.

First thing’s first, my head was fine after a few days. Just a big bruise and a bump left, but other than those and the headache, I was fine. Secondly, the doctors formally diagnosed me with bulimia nervosa. And that… Well that just thrilled my family and I. Sarcasm on my part of course.

I had to get a check-up once every two weeks and had people watching me every second of my day. While I was eating, playing a game, reading, drawing, everything but using the bathroom. Even then, someone was always directly outside. Even at night, Mom slept in a chair outside the bathroom door. 

Overall, I hated how much they repeatedly tried to look after me. Maybe it makes me ungrateful, but so be it. I don’t want their help or anything with this. It’s what I want, and I know the risks, so I can deal with whatever happens. It just makes me feel bad that all the help they’re giving me just is going to be for nothing when I outsmart them.

On an actually bright note though, I had a creative breakthrough. That comic that I had wanted to write after spring break finally has a villain! I took a few hours to think about what the story would be, and then I got ready. I got a bunch of sheets of paper, hole-punched them, then got a strong piece of string to bind it. It wasn’t the fanciest thing, but it got the job done. After that, I started sketching.

*   *   *   *   *

It was Saturday night, and after everyone had gone to bed, I got up and quietly sneaked out of my room. Usually, there would be Mom or Sophie sitting in a chair in front of the bathroom, but the chair was empty now. Tonight, Sophie was going out with friends, as I overheard. Right now she should be changing, which would give me enough time to get as much stuff out of me as possible and pass it off as just me using the bathroom if she came back. I didn’t see any flaws with it other than just me needing to be quick.

I dashed to the bathroom as quickly as I could and started the usual routine. You know, down on my knees, fingers down my throat, and watching my dinner come back out.

“You’re getting thinner already, Benji,” cheered the voice. It was more of a sarcastic congratulations from him though “Soon enough, those kids won’t even be able to try to compare you to Grandma!”

“Ben, no!” Sophie harshly growled from the door. She ran over and grabbed my arms, dragging me away from the toilet. Oh yeah, she was pissed. “What the fuck, Ben?!”

“You wouldn’t understand,” I mumbled. 

“Yeah, you’re right, I wouldn’t! I just want you to- Ugh!” She paced around the hallway. She had tried hard not to be loud enough to wake Mom or Dad, which told me she still wanted to go out with friends. I had to be sure though.

“You’re not… going to tell Mom and Dad… are you…?” I asked, feeling very small next to my sister now.

“I’m-” She looked ready to lash out, but she stopped herself and grabbed my arm again, taking me to my room. “Get some clothes to go out in.”

“What?!” I asked.

“I said get some clothes to go out in,” she snapped. “If I can’t trust you to not vomit your guts out all night, then I’ll play babysitter so I can watch you!”

“I won’t do anything, I swear!” I lied.

“I don’t care,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Throw on some clothes in five minutes, or I’m throwing them on you myself.”

After that, she closed my door and waited outside. Not liking the sound of the alternative, I threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and my dark green hoodie for good measure. This wasn’t how I wanted to spend my night at all, but it sounded better than whatever Mom would’ve said or done to me in the morning.