Author's Note: Before you read, please realize that this story explores the topic of eating disorders. I do not mean to offend by writing this story but I do intend to warn every reader what they are about to see before they start reading. The italicized text is nothing special. It's just what I put in as a writer. Also, this is my first story for Dance Academy and I am very proud of it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Dance Academy seeing how I am American.
Seven hundred calories. Counted exactly. She allowed herself seven hundred fifty on Saturdays. Only once a week. Her dance and exercise burned over one thousand calories a day. That left her with a net loss of nearly four hundred calories a day and a little over three hundred on weekends. This is what all dancers did. Her lazy father and overweight mother could never understand. But she did. It's called dedication.
Oh Abby, why do you do this to yourself?
Abigail knew that if she ate less or exercised more, people would start to notice. Dear little Abigail could not have such type of attention on her. She wanted to be noticed for her skills. The day that Ethan took the role she wanted, she knew she would have to work twice as hard. So no more carbohydrates after three. Or before. No more artificial sugars. Only plain protein and vitamins. This would prevent her body from storing any extra fats. And then the breasts started coming in.
You're digging your own grave and decorating it with rotten flowers.
It took nearly two months before Abigail started noticing a difference. Her leotards didn't fit quite as sung as before. Her shirts hung a little more loosely. Not even a belt could help hold her pants up. This was good. Abigail would lock herself in the bathroom and stare at herself naked. She would smile because each rib was easy to count. She didn't have to dig into her disgusting body in a scavenger hunt for each one.
The hollows of her shoulders intrigued her the most. The sharp poke of her shoulder soon gives way to a dip that creates a path up her sunken face. Beautiful. This occasion called for shopping. Smaller clothes. She could sell her stuff at the second-hand place and use what she gets to buy smaller sizes.
Can't you see the blotches and the bruises? Abby, you're going to kill yourself.
A size two won't even slide past her fat thighs and a size four will not button. How is this so? Her chest prevents her from getting any top in a small. The mirror in the changing room yells at her the insults she hears others whisper. Everyone thinks she's stupid, that she can't hear them. "Look at Abigail," they say. She never lingers long enough to hear anything else. Angry and near tears, she walks out with two pairs of six and a few medium tops with a new goal in mind. Less calories. More exercise.
Talent is all they see. But all you see is a waste.
Another week goes by and things are better. Abigail can feel herself lighter. Each step she takes feels like she's barely touching the ground. When she dances, her vision blurs as if she were flying. This good, so good. In the mirror of the dance studio, she notices how Sammy's fingers almost touch when they wrap around her waist. A smaller waist makes for a lighter dancer. This makes it easier for Sammy to lift her and hold her when they duet.
He knows Abby. Open your eyes and look at what you're doing to yourself.
But Abigail's joy is short lived. That same day, as she goes for her third jog of the day, Sammy drags her away while she's crossing the bridge that marks two miles. Trying to get out of his grip, she thrashes around and the ear-buds fall out. The calming tones of Vivaldi are absent and are replaced by the honking of cars and the yelling of children who do not care.
It takes Sammy twenty seconds to cross the bridge with Abigail firmly in his hand and another five before he can successfully pin her to the wall. All the sudden movements that Abigail has exerted have caused her to become more lightheaded than usual and now she's starting to see stars. Bright blue and black ones.
"What are you doing?" Only two or three inches taller than her, Sammy isn't much of a threat to Abigail. Although the stars are making her a little disoriented, she can still manage a proper glare.
"Let go of me. I was jogging. Why don't you go hang out with your idiot friends?" Another yank but he holds firmly to her. Sammy takes a deep breath. He's obviously frustrated.
"You know what I mean. You are nothing but skin and bones. I can feel it every time we dance." Sammy holds her down firmly. He wants to fix this because he cares for this girl. She was so beautiful before and now she's nothing but bruises and miscolored skin.
"Let go of me Samuel. I have to finish my jog." The stars are getting bigger and she's becoming weaker. She needs to get away from him because this is doing no one any good. She needs to finish her run or her metabolism will not pick up for her next meal.
"Sammy. Just Sammy." He can tell that she's losing it. Abigail's face is becoming paler and paler, as if she can't seem to take in enough air into her lungs. But he can't be doing it. He's holding onto her shoulders which are drilling holes into his hands. They're sharp.
"What?" It's such a trivial thing to say. Samuel, Sammy, whatever. It's an S name. Right now she doesn't really care because in seconds she will be losing what little she had for lunch. She's paying attention more to forcibly shutting off her throat than to what's happening. So it comes to a surprise when a hand slides her right sleeve to the side and exposes her shoulder. Sammy isn't capable of this, is he? She can't do anything now. She's too weak to protect herself.
Sammy gasps because he knew. He didn't want for it to be true. But he sees how far the skin has sunken into Abigail's body. Her skin is stretched out grotesquely over the bones. There's not muscle to create tone. His hand moves to the area underneath her breasts. He wants to scream at her. Sammy doesn't have to press his hand too much to realize how thin she is. He can only imagine how terrible her skin looks against every rib and how her abdomen may seem to cave into her stomach. A whimper makes him looks straight into her closed eyes.
"Please don't. I don't want to go through this." A tear slides down her face.
"What are you talking about?" Sammy doesn't understand. What is she getting at?
"Please don't rape me. I really don't want to. Please." His eyes widen. How could she think that he's capable of such thing? The only thing he can do is slowly pull her to him into a hug. And she can't even find the energy to cry. Abigail just leans against his shoulder. The last thing she notices before she gives way to the stars is that Sammy's shoulder is really soft.
He loves you the way you were before. Why do you build these walls? He's the only one willing to tear them down but you won't let him.
There is a bright light. Too bright to be the sun. The soft hum of the AC slowly awakes Abigail. Once her conscience wraps around the fact that she has been in bed, she realizes that this is not her bed. She lies in a stranger's bed covered by sheets that are too thick and too stiff. Abigail balls her hands into fists, prepared for the worst.
"It's okay, you're in the medical wing." That voice, she knows it. Cracking one eye open, she realizes that it's Sammy and that she is in fact in the medical wing of the school. It took a few seconds before she remembers what happened.
"How long have I been sleeping?"
"It's still Thursday if that's what you're asking. Well, it's about three in the morning. So it's Friday." Sammy cracks a smile as if this whole thing was a joke.
"Why?"
"Why what?" The sentenced was hidden in a yawn. He obviously had not slept at all.
"Why are you here? I don't need you." Abigail turns her face away because she doesn't want him to see how weak she is right now.
"Yes you do. I care. You may not see it, but I care." Sammy knows that any move toward her right now would shut her off. So he stays right where he is, elbows on his knees and slightly leaning towards her.
"What have I done to make you care?" She turns back to him truly curious.
"Nothing, really. I just do. That's why I told the nurse everything and I also talked to the psychiatrist and set up some dates for you."
"You don't know anything." Abigail turns away from him once again, angry.
"I know that you have an eating problem. I know that you're not happy with your body so that's why you did this to yourself. I know that no one else here cares enough to have noticed. I know that you are screaming for help even if you don't realize it. I know that this isn't going to get fixed right away, but that you'll be better one day. I know that I care and that I will help you." Sammy's eyes turn to the floor, partly ashamed for what he has just revealed.
"I'm fine. I don't need help."
"You'll want help after you hear what the Dean has threatened you with."
"Threat? What threat?" Again, out of curiosity, Abigail turns to Sammy.
"For the rest of the year, you will be put on probation. If the nutritionist and the psychiatrist believe that you have not whole-heartily worked towards a healthier life, you will not be allowed to return for second year. They do not want people to believe that they support this type of thing."
Nothing. She couldn't say anything. How dare he invade into her personal life? This was none of his business. This wasn't anyone's business. She could deal with it on her own. She was almost at her goal weight anyways. Everything would be fine.
"Get out!"
"You'll thank me one day."
You'll think back to that day and you'll regret it all. You'll wish that you pulled him to you and cried on his shoulder. You'll wish that you thanked him then because you would never be who you are today without him.
The next Saturday, Abigail is sitting on her bed finishing off the last bit of her English homework. There is a knock on her door but she doesn't say anything. Just her way of saying that she is dressed and it's okay to come in. Low and behold, Sammy is the one standing in the doorway. She looks up at him for a second before returning to her work.
"What do you want?"
"How did your first session with the psychiatrist go?"
Abigail wanted to make some sort of snarky remark. She wanted to force him out of her room. But that would go against what she had discussed with Ms. Walcott. Sammy was not to blame. He only wanted to help.
"I shouldn't be angry."
"Are you?"
"No."
Sammy walks over and sits on Abigail's bed. He moves all of her work over and she makes a huffing noise as if to let him know that she wasn't done. But she does nothing more. Sammy pulls a red apple which he had been concealing behind his back. He holds it between their faces and Abigail stares at it with such disgust, one would think it was disease infested.
"One bite. It doesn't even have to be very big. Just one."
Sammy holds the apple a couple of centimeters from her mouth, offering it as a friendly gesture. She hesitates. Ms. Walcott had said that this would have to be taken by steps. But, then again, he only wanted one bite from her. So she leans forward and snaps off a piece that's so small, it's not even worth chewing. Abigail quickly swallows, knowing that if she lingers on the taste of the apple, she will spit it out. When she's sure that the apple will stay in her stomach, she opens her mouth and moves her tongue around to show that the piece is not hidden somewhere. She begins to close her mouth when Sammy surprises her again.
His lips are on hers and she doesn't know what to do. Three seconds. That's how long both sat still waiting for the other to do something before Abigail closed her eyes and began to kiss him. She surprised herself because it was instinct. Another five seconds and Sammy pulls away and runs out the room before either can say something they may regret later.
It feels nice doesn't it? Knowing someone really cares? Don't shut yourself away in that dank room. He wants to see more than what a high window allows to him to see. Bear your soul and you'll go far.
Abigail does not do relationships. She doesn't do labels. Sammy doesn't do the unknown. He doesn't do vague. So when they confronted each other a week later, they didn't meet in the middle. They didn't begin holding hands from then forward. They fought. A lot. Seven weeks, twelve fights, five kisses, and one hug later, they both decided to just call it a thing. This would just be something they would do. Nothing more. Abigail's eating disorder did come between them, but he was willing to help and pull her through.
You're falling for him. Nothing complicated about that. But your life is anything but complicated.
"I've gained five pounds."
"That's not what matters."
"I'm eating at every meal."
"Nope."
"What do you want from me then?"
It's a little over an hour before curfew. Abigail and Sammy are sitting on the beach. The midnight blue sky gives way to the hundreds of stars and the waves sing a lullaby. They're not in any position that would say lovers to any stranger, but they are there together. And that is enough for them.
"I want to know you're okay." Sammy places his hand on top of hers and wraps his fingers around hers.
"Not completely. But I'll get there. You'll be here to help me next year."
Abigail smiles, waiting for him to catch up on what she has just said. Suddenly she's laying on something soft and this same thing is laughing joyously. Somehow, he had pulled them both down to the sand and he couldn't help but laugh. Sammy's love is contagious and soon, Abigail is laughing soon. And then, the laughing is no longer present and is replaced by kissing. A couple who refuses to call themselves so.
Abby, you were meant to be happy.
"Thank you."
"I told you I cared."
Author's Note: So How was that? Leave a review? I really took a leap of faith with this because I've never written something with an eating disorder. I've always read but never really had the guts to do it until now. Also, if you are one of the people who suffer of an eating disorder, please know that you are not alone. You are a unique case, but there are so many people who are willing to help. I am one of them. If you just need to talk, shoot me a message. I am not here to judge.