A/N I am continuing the story because I really enjoy it. Thank you to GraceWinter for the compliment of the story!
The strikethroughs are indicated through ()
LIA POV
(I can't do it). School's getting worse. There are people from my past who aren't letting me forget my (accomplishments) mistakes. I get patronized for what I want to do, getting told it's the pot calling the kettle black. (Maybe they're right). I haven't seen Elijah since the reintroduction two weeks ago at the diner. I had been kept busy I hadn't thought of it too much, not until I had to head there to look for books. I don't want to tell my therapist I'm getting bullied at school, I'm in college now you'd figure that wouldn't happen anymore. You would figure wrong.
I enter the library with every intention to go in there, check out what I need, and leave. A part of me (wanted) needed to see Elijah. He would know what to do. Most of me doesn't want to see him. I looked cold, I was cold. I lost weight, not too much to raise suspicions yet but I've started to skip meals again. (I'm a terrible human being). The pressure of school mixed with being belittled by those who think they know my story was getting to my head. I wish I had Cassie back. (Why did we have to make that damn bet?) I know where I'm going; to the self-help section. I head there immediately, rummaging through different books. They seem to be filled to the brim on chicken soup for the soul books, books I couldn't care less about. I run my fingers over the spines and pull out a book dealing with anorexia, with what I have had. I feel my blood pumping in my ears as I move to a new section. I grab a book dealing with nature versus nurture, something I have a research paper over. I didn't see Elijah at the front. I hope he's not here. (I'm a terrible liar).
He's there. He was sitting behind the counter, looking absolutely bored. "Lia." He addressed with a smile, sitting up properly and ready to snatch the books from me. I nod my head and look down, fumbling for my library card in my purse. Why hadn't I thought to get the stupid thing ready? I let out a shaky breath as he took the books. No words exchanged between the two of us, he put in return dates for the books and scanned them and I pretended to look interested in the library card I had renewed a few years bac, (a few years ago when Cassie was alive). He took my card before he said the words I knew I would here. "Why do you have a book on anorexia? It doesn't seem to fit the child development books." He said and I paused, my mind frantic. Fuck repeating over in my mind as I scrambled for some sort of excuse, even a lame one. "I'm doing outside research for school, it's for a separate class." I hear myself saying lying. I study his face before he hands back the card, trying to see if he bought it. "Alright." He said. I held in the breath of relief I was just about to exhale, saving it for later.
I waved goodbye and held the books in my arms, turning on my heels. "Hey, wait. I'll walk you out. I'm about to go off shift anyways, just need to tell Ms. Rivers I'm out of here." I almost cringed at the words but decided there was nothing I could do to deter him. He vanished into an office and I stepped ever so quietly, wondering if I could slip out the door without a trace. I was almost there when I heard a voice behind me, "Are you trying to leave me?" I halt and turn around, shaking my head. "No! I'm just in a rush to get home." I lie. I will always be a liar. "Did you drive here?" He questioned and I shook my head. It wasn't too far from the house and I needed a breath of fresh air. The coolness makes me feel numb. (I like it). "Don't you drive to work?" I question, wanting to run out. I'm too weak to run. I haven't eaten more than 200 calories in a day and a half. (I like it). I feel myself get dizzy from just moving too fast, but I can't collapse. My body has trained itself to thrive on such a small amount of nutrients. I love hate it. "I know how to walk back. I want to make sure you get home safely." He put on his leather coat that was tattered and looked worn, I wonder if he got it from a thrift store. A strange flutter moved through my chest, one I didn't even pick up on at first. I wonder why it happened. (I wonder why he cares about my wellbeing). "Then you can carry my books." I joke, but in actuality the books were starting to feel like lead in my arms. "I really don't mind." He said and took them from me, his eyes moving carefully over my face. I wonder if he suspected something. I probably looked more drained. I tried not to think about it as I adjusted my own coat, trying to cover up more but I was still chilly.
We walked in silence, specks of snow covering the brown grass that had long since been a luscious green color. "Are you cold?" He asked. "Of course I am. You don't see me shaking?" I ask, trying not to snip at him. I felt more jittery with him walking with me, with him following me home. I hadn't realized until then I hadn't had one of my friends over to my house since Cassie. (Well, since before she died). Was Elijah really my friend though? At this point he felt more like a stranger. Suddenly I felt an arm wrapping around me, pulling me away from my thoughts. I (did) almost jumped in fright. My first reaction after that was the warmth dragging me in, causing me to move closer to the source. "What are you doing?" I ask in confusion, conflict dancing around both my head and my eyes. It felt so intimate, though maybe because intimacy never was something I had ever been exposed to.( Except with him). "You said you were cold and, like penguins, I figured we could huddle together for warmth." He answered nonchalantly, causing me to bark out a laugh. "Why do you know that?" I question. "Why don't you?" He retorts, the conversation dropping.
He was always this warm.( I remember when we shared a bed). The light hearted atmosphere between the two of us shifted. It started with, "You haven't come in to the library to visit me. I'll give you my phone number to call if you ever want to make plans." I replied with, "I'll write it down when I get home. But you have no room to talk, you haven't come in and eaten at the diner and I've been busy to school. It then got to the question I most dreaded, "Speaking of school, how is it treating you Lia?" I paused as we walked, feeling the urge to crumble right there on the gray sidewalk. "Good." I lie, hoping that would be the end of it. "You know I said you could talk to me about anything. You aren't a very good liar and when you got the books back your arms looked as though they were being dragged down by the weight. Have you eaten?" He pulled away from me, leaving me in a shock of cold. (I can still feel his heat radiating off of him).
I say yes in reply, but maybe a little too quickly. "When's the last time you've eaten a meal?" He asked in a calculated tone, a calm one but you could hear the bite behind it. I don't lie this time. (He makes me not want to lie). It's strange, in a way I can't and won't even attempt to explain. Maybe it's because he's someone who saw what anorexia did to me and still wants to be there to help me through the struggle. "A day and a half ago." I answer lowly, I don't tell him that the meal consisted of three potato chips, a quarter of a cup of apple juice, and half a sandwich that only had lettuce and tomato on it. "Why?" He looked more confused than anything. I stay silent and take his free hand, tugging on it as I start walking. He doesn't fight me. He doesn't pressure me to talk.
We get to my house, I look at the porch swing. I take a seat and he follows. "I haven't felt hungry." It wasn't a lie, there were points my stomach didn't growl out for food. There were points I didn't feel like I was slowly dying from starvation. (I miss when I could go without eating). There were times I could blatantly ignore the fact that I felt dizzy from not eating. "You can't go back to that way Lia." He said, almost angrily. I was stunned by the sound of his voice. "You can't tell me what to do! Don't you think I know I can't?" I hiss at him as I pull my knees to my chest. I won't go back to the treatment center for a fourth time, I can't. (I'd rather die).
"I don't want to see you sick." He said, his tone going back to the gentleness I had been accustomed to. "I don't either." I whispered, feeling tears sting my eyes. I feel a thud on the swing, he set down the books. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. I felt warm again. I didn't fight it. "So what happened to cause this?" He asked, his words forming carefully. I knew what he was referring to, as did he, I didn't need to hear him say the words 'what caused you to start going back to your anorexic tendencies'. I had heard it enough from the few times I had been caught skipping meals and was forced to go see the therapist to 'fix' me. (There was no fixing someone who is as broken as me). "There are some people I went to high school with, people who were friends with Cassie. I don't know what spurred the malicious attacks, most people forgot about her. I have a few in class and we were discussing what we wanted to do in class. I went on to say that I want to help those who had eating disorders. I got attacked for that. They were so mean to me, saying that it's the pot calling the kettle black because I was a brainless bitch who did the same thing. What makes me think that anyone would listen to me, the hypocrite?" I swallow and turn my face so the tears aren't shown. (The tears are falling on his hands).
"I don't understand. And it will progressively get worst. I found a note today, one that said 'Lia' on the front of it. It was quick and concise. 'You should have killed yourself with her'. I was so sure once I entered college I wouldn't hear these things anymore. I was wrong." I whispered. (They were right). He didn't say anything as I stared down at the porch, tears trickling down my cheeks. I had perfected the art of crying, my chest no longer heaving and my breaths no longer short with gasping sounds. I hid it so well. "I'm sorry." He started out. One could hear a miniscule sound of guilt in his voice from when he was angry at me. "I didn't realize things had gotten that bad." (No one had, not even my dad who works there).
"They're wrong though. And they shouldn't judge you for something. In my opinion you are brave for facing your problems head on, versus doing what Cassie did. Not that I'm speaking ill of the dead, I'm just giving an example. If you killed yourself you wouldn't have the opportunity to help others who are in a similar situation to what you've gone through. You just need to finish getting through the rough patches to get to where you're going." He said. And while it wasn't the most intricate thing I've heard, I understood the meaning behind it and a sense of warmth ran through me. He moved his hands, untangling his lanky arms from around me and wiping the tears that had fallen from my eyes before he pulled me into his embrace again. Neither of us said anything. (I didn't say how strange it felt).
It was nice to be able to sit somewhere with someone without speaking. I forgot how comforting silence with someone else could feel. Just to know somebody was there was good in itself. Not ten minutes later Jennifer poked her head out the door, having gotten home early from work. "Lia, does your friend want to stay for dinner?" She asked and I quickly pushed his arms away, not wanting her to get any ideas. (What would be the harm if she did though?) I look at him questioningly. "It's whatever you want." I say in a soft tone so only he can hear. He smiled and nodded his head. "Please." He replied. He stayed the whole night and for one meal, I didn't count how many calories I was eating.
EMMA POV
"When's dinner?" I ask as I twirl around in a spinny wooden stool in the kitchen. "When it gets done." Mom says tiredly, she obviously had a stressful day at work. I don't bother her as I continue with what I'm doing. We were having macaroni and cheese and chicken tenders, something Lia liked. "Why has she looked so sad lately?" I ask and mom tiptoes around the answer. She says it's because someone dear to Lia passed away a few years ago.
"Mommy look what I made Lia in school." I pull out a paper snowman from my backpack, slightly crumpled. I beam with pride as she admires it with a smile. "Good job sweetie, why don't you go see if she's home yet." She says and I nod my head eagerly. I bound up the stairs and knock on my sister's door, not home yet. I then run down the stairs and peek out from behind the curtain to check if she was on the porch, knowing that she loved to sit on the swing. It was one of her favorite places for the two of us to spend time together.
I find her, but I also see someone else there. "Mom!" I call. "What is it?" She asks. "C'm here!" I shout. "Come here." She corrects. "Mom!" I huff. "I'm busy!" She continues. This goes on before she finally caves in and sees what I'm seeing. "Who's that?" I ask pointing to the boy who had his arms wrapped around Lia. "I don't know." She responds in a surprised tone. "Is he her boyfriend? Does he go to school with her?" I ask excitedly.
It was easy to see the worry on mommy's face. "I don't know. I don't think she should be getting herself involved with someone she's so fragile." I hear her whisper before she shuts her mouth tightly. I don't think she wanted me to hear that. "I think he can make her happy. See." I say pointing to how he was hugging her. "I don't know." She responds slowly and I look up at her with wide eyes and a puppy dog pout. "Can you ask if he wants to stay for dinner?" I ask. She gives in instantly and I grin to myself as she pokes her head out the door and asks.