I looked at myself in the mirror. At the skeleton I had become. My ribs were clearly visible, I could easily count every single one, and my spine rippled out from my back. Bony fingers, sharp elbows, frail legs. And the eyes. My eyes, once so lively, were now dull and lifeless. I saw this. I did. But somehow it wasn't enough for me, it didn't satisfy me. I still saw the ugliness in my form, still felt the need to be skinnier even though, somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I was killing myself.
Turning away from the mirror, I continued on my way to the stairs, but half-way there, I tripped. On the carpet, on the fragments of what I used to be, or maybe on nothing at all. With no more energy left to get up, I lay there, drowning in my pool of shattered self esteem and broken ambition.
Then there were footsteps, a voice called out my name. Oh no. No, no it's Emmett. He can't see me like this, he can't see! I tried to get up; I tried to stand on whatever was left of my dreams and memories, but I couldn't do it. My legs gave way. "Oh God. Edward." Now, I was sobbing. Dingy tears making their way down my sunken cheeks. My dull green eyes met his energetic brown ones. He was staring at me, shock and horror marring his usually playful features, which soon morphed to anger.
A pair of large, strong arms picked me up gently, like I was made of glass. Emmett was warm, and I was always so cold these days. Burying my face in his chest, I cried harder, but all too soon, I was placed on the hard, cold counter in the kitchen, Emmett's warmth disappearing. Whimpering softly, I reached out to him, searching for the warmth my body couldn't provide.
He took a step back from me, denying me what I was asking for and I sniffled, accepting defeat. My brother was furious; a stone cold anger I'd never seen grace his features before and it scared me.
"What were you thinking Edward? Why would you do this to yourself?" He asked, banging his fist against the counter beside me. I jumped startled, the sobs increasing in intensity. Emmett ran a finger over my protruding ribs reminding me how weak and hideous I must look to him. I tried to push his hand away but he wouldn't stop and it frustrated me. I didn't want him to see me like this.
"Sss….stop. Em…Emmett…" He stopped but left his hand there, looking me in the eyes with accusation.
"You did this to yourself Edward. I know what happened was painful and the bitch deserves to rot in hell for hurting you. But you can't let her have this kind of control over you. You are better than that. This has to stop. You're killing yourself."
I shook my head frantically. He didn't understand. "Why don't you understand? I'm disgusting! I don't deserve you're kindness. Just let me go." I hung my head, ashamed and saw his hands form fists at his sides.
Suddenly, he pushed me up against the wall, his arms holding me in a vice-like grip. Squirming, I tried to wiggle out of his grasp but he was stronger and I couldn't even move an inch. Emmett shook me gently, bringing his face close to mine. "Don't you say that Edward! Don't you dare say that ever again! You are not disgusting. Do you hear me? You deserve kindness. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
I shook my head. I didn't understand how he could say these things about me. "I – I d – don't understand!" I wailed, tears still dripping freely down my face. Emmett sighed and his arms wrapped around me, enfolding me in his warmth.
"You are a good person, Edward. Anyone can see that. Except you. I wish I could take away the hurt for you, but I can't. But don't ever think that you don't deserve compassion. Because you do." One of his hands rubbed up and down my spine in a soothing gesture.
"You deserve to be happy Edward. You are a good person. Don't ever doubt that. And you'll be an even better person when we fix your problem." I sniffled, the tears having finally run dry. Emmett was still rubbing my back, but he pulled back to look at me.
"We'll tell Mom and Dad. We'll help you get better. You're not alone Ed. You can do this." I looked up at my older brother, trying to believe his words. Maybe I could do it, with his help but it would be so hard. I had hardly eaten anything this month, and what little I did eat was given back to the porcelain god. Just the thought of food being in the stomach made me queasy, and I clamped my hand over my mouth, so sure I was about to vomit on Em's shoes.
He moved me over to the sink where I sat, dry heaving for a couple of minutes because there was nothing in me to come back up. Emmett continued rubbing up and down my spine and I felt so guilty for making him worry about me. My brother picked me up again and sat down on a chair, placing me on his lap like a small child.
"Are you going to try to get better? Mom and Dad worry about you, you know. And I do too. After what happened, we didn't know how you would cope. We only want what's best for you, but this isn't our decision to make. It's yours. Do you want to get better Edward?"
And I did. I was sick and tired of being cold all the time. Of looking in the mirror and seeing someone I hated. I wanted my family to be proud of me; I wanted them to be happy. Looking up at Emmett, I could see all the hurt this discovery has caused him and I hated it. Never again would I hurt my family like that.
"I – I want…to get better." I whispered, glancing up at him, suddenly shy. At these words, Emmett smiled and pulled me into another hug. Sitting here, enfolded by my brother's warmth, I felt hopeful. He was holding whatever was left of me together and I was grateful. Grateful for the knowledge that I was not alone and that he was there for me. I held onto him as tight as I could, which wasn't much, but it made me feel better, knowing he was there.
"Good." As that word left his lips, I could hear a hint of a smile in his voice for the first time today. Maybe one day, I would be able to see myself like he sees me. Maybe one day, I'll be able to get my life back.