I own nothing but Macey, her family, the girls at rehab, and the plot! =]

You will have to go to a rehabilitation center. This can't get any worse. The doctor's words echoed over and over in my head. Rehab. I would have to go to some rehab center in the outskirts of Seattle for anorexia nervosa. I didn't understand what the doctor meant by 'this can't get any worse,'

When my parents noticed I was getting really skinny, my parents tried to make me eat at dinner. I would use the same excuse. I had a big lunch, when in fact I never ate anything at school. I would keep buying things so they would think I was. I never invited my friends over for any meal. When I stepped on the scale, the numbers I saw would scare me sometimes. The last time I measured myself, I was 85 pounds. I would have eaten something, but the food didn't appeal to me. I would drink water, and pineapple mango juice so I wouldn't become dehydrated. I felt exhausted all the time.

"Macey, time to pack," My mom, Susan, called from the dining room. I sighed, pulled my big chartreuse duffel bag from my big closet, and started shoving all my clothes in the bag. After I miraculously got all my stuff in the bag, I dragged it out to the second floor sitting room which overlooked the foyer.

"Fore!" I yelled and heaved my bag up on the wood railing.

"Macey Claire Stendahl! If you drop that bag over the rail I will personally re-renovate your room!" My dad, Björn, yelled at me. Björn was into golf, smooth jazz, and skiing. I was the exact polar opposite of him. I thought golf was the most boring sport in the world, I liked indie-pop and alternative music, and I liked to snowboard. I like bright lively colours, while he liked mellow, calm colours. Him re-renovating my room would make me the most unhappy person in the world.

My dad was Swedish and had bright blonde hair that was always in place, eyes that change between the colors of midnight blue and Hazel, is six feet tall and has to bend down really far just to kiss the tops of my moms and my head, and pale skin, even though we've lived in Texas since I was born. My mom is Icelandic and has pale skin also, Hazel eyes, and Chestnut hair usually in long curls falling gracefully over her shoulders. Even though she's 45, she looks really young and is really beautiful, even though she's five feet two inches. I got my dad's bright blonde hair, which is ringlets most of the time, my mom's eyes and height, even though I'm 2 inches shorter than her, and her beauty, says my dad, and their pale skin. In addition, I have a widow's peak, but it's hard to see because of the color of my hair, and a natural cupid's bow on my upper lip. My older brother, Ian, who was in college now, had short brown hair, my moms hazel eyes, and my dad's height. He only came home for the weekends and had a fiancée, Helena, who treated me like a five year old.

I grunted, lowered the bag from the railing, and started heaving it down the stairs, one at a time. Each time I did that, it felt like my bones were going to snap cleanly in half. When I was at the bottom of the stairs, I was sweating like a dog.

"Let's go missy," Susan said, Björn grabbed my duffel bag, and we all walked out to our car, a silver Pontiac Vibe. I sat down and jumped when my cell phone started vibrating. I pulled my MOTORIZR Z3 out of my back pocket, and checked the screen. There was one unread text message from my best friend, Jill. I opened it.

Hey. wen r u leavin 4 rehab?

Jill

I messaged her back.

We r leavin rite now

c u wen im out.

Macey

I turned my cell phone off and shoved it into my pocket trying to stop the tears that escaped from me. I grabbed a tissue, bit my lip to stop the tears, and dabbed at the already existent tears on my pale cheeks. We drove for thirty minutes and reached the rehab center, Sweet Pines. We checked in and I got assigned room 23. We walked down the clear glass hallway connecting the rooms from the treatment center. When we found the room, Susan started taking out my bright orange blanket/comforter, lime green sheets and purple pillow covers and duvet. We finished making the bed right as my room mate (at least I think I have a room mate), walked into the room.

"So you're the girl with anorexia. I'm Lizzy. I'm in the substance abuse center," she said. I noticed how she talked about this so easily.

"Hi, I'm Macey," I said and tried smiling sincerely.

"Hi, I'm Macey's mom, Susan," Susan said and shook Lizzy's hand. "I think the lady at the desk wanted us to go back there when you are settled in so you can get your schedule," she told me. I nodded, waved goodbye to Lizzy, and followed my mom out of the room and into a new chapter of my life.

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Life here was pretty boring. I went to study hour first where I did regular school work. Then I went to a counselor, Leah, and she asked me questions about me and my life. After that, I went to group with, Lizzy, Rose, Laoise, Tatiana, Eda, and Caitlin, where we got to know each other. After group, we had lunch, and after lunch, we had free time for the rest of the afternoon. There was visiting hour at four on the weekend. My mom came sometimes and Ian came almost every week with a book of card games. He always brought Helena with him.

At five o'clock, we had dinner, and after that, I had a doctor appointment to see if I was gaining weight.

At Sweet Pines, their motto was, We can help you get better. They never made you do anything you didn't want to do. They do make me eat a few bites at every meal though.

Last week I did something bad. I could tell it was bad for me. I threw up my food after each meal. They didn't know I was doing it. At each doctor appointment, they didn't understand why I wasn't gaining any weight. I had been here for a month now. There was a special doctor coming at the end of the month to figure out what was wrong.

The only time that was exciting was when I would see something shimmering and silver by the fountain near the cafeteria. The first day I saw it, I tried showing it to Lizzy and Eda. They didn't see it and said I should be put in the mental faculty when I told them about it. After about a week, I started hearing moaning around the fountain whenever the shimmery thing was there. It looked like a girl in a hospital gown.

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They signed me up for electroconvulsive therapy. My parents agreed, even though my mom was crying. I was scared. The idea of electricity being shot into my body to induce seizures scared me to no end. I'm getting the electroconvulsive therapy in three days. Three days of fretting, biting my nails down to the stub, and being jumpy, the things that usually happen when I get nervous.

Ernest Hemingway committed suicide after he had electroconvulsive therapy. Knowing that fact made me even more scared.

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The three days passed extremely quick and I was soon sitting in the cold chair with wires and suction cups attached to my temples. The same doctor who was here at the end of last month was there. I never noticed how handsome he was. He looked like a super model with his perfect features, and blonde hair.

My breath was coming in short gasps. My mom and dad kissed my forehead and left the room, my mom's body shaking.

"Macy, are you ready?" the model-like doctor asked in a British accent. I nodded gulping. He flipped a few switches and I was suddenly shaking, all the volts coursing through my body, my eyes rolling into the back of my head. It stopped. I fainted.

Oh exciting?? The next chapters gonna be really long and the beginnings going to kinda slow but, do you like funny adventures with the Cullens? I hope so!!

R&R pweez!

Bella