A/N: I'm really sorry I didn't post this earlier, I was editing and reviewing it and my (spectacularly marvelous) beta, LlamaOnesie, had a few more suggestions that I really liked yesterday, so I was going to post it last night but my computer stopped working. I'm very sorry but I hope you enjoy chapter 2! Now I'll let you read the chapter, sorry for my long and probably terribly boring monologue.
Phillip and W.D. rushed to the center ring, but it was too late. Anne was lying on her side in the middle of the ring, and her right leg was bent in a position that made Phillip's stomach do a somersault. W.D. picked her up, cradling her against him and feeling her neck for a pulse. A few seconds later, he sighed in relief, as Anne was still alive—but barely. W.D. stood up, ready to walk out the door, but Phillip stopped him.
"They don't want us at the hospital, W.D.," he told the other man. W.D.'s face hardened.
"Then I'll find somewhere else that will accept us." He continued walking out the door.
Phillip was terrified of hospitals. There was no other word for it. He hated everything about them: the smell, the haughty know-it-all doctors who were just in it for the money, and especially the ever-present feeling of hopelessness.
This irrational fear of hospitals was why he was sitting on the steps of the side entrance to the hospital, doing his best not to let the tears rapidly filling his eyes to fall. 'Pull yourself together, Carlyle!' Lettie's words echoed in his head. He finally stood up, brushed the dirt off his pants, and strode purposefully into the building. At the reception desk, he was greeted by a young woman in blue.
"Good evening, sir," she said cheerfully. "How may I help you?" Phillip was taken aback at the woman's good mood, realizing she might not be a judgmental jerk like the rest of New York.
"I-I'm looking for Anne Wheeler." He braced himself for a barrage of angry words, but the woman merely smiled and flipped through her binder.
"Anne Wheeler… room thirty-three." She pointed to her right. "Down that hallway, it'll be on your left."
"Thank you," Phillip said. The woman smiled again.
"Not a problem," she replied, but Phillip was already gone.
Phillip found the room and knocked on the door. W.D. opened it, his face drawn.
"Hey Phillip."
"How's Anne?" Phillip asked. If it was even possible, W.D.'s expression seemed to fall farther. He led Phillip over to the bed.
Anne was asleep, her face peaceful for the first time in a while, but she was dwarfed by the pillows and blankets surrounding her. Phillip could see that her leg was in a cast under the blankets, but she still looked tiny and pale in comparison to the pillows.
"The doctor… well… I'll let Anne explain to you later. Knowing her, she'll want to tell you herself."
"What's wrong?"
"It's…" W.D. trailed off into silence. "It's complicated." Phillip sat down on the bed next to Anne and saw her eyes flutter open.
"Phil?" she asked. Phillip took her hand.
"I'm here, Anne," he replied. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fi—"
"Anne." W.D.'s tone of voice brooked no argument.
"Sorry W.D."
"So?" Phillip asked again. "How are you?"
"Honestly? Not great." Anne made a face. "It's better now, with the painkillers they gave me." She smiled weakly, trying to sit up. Just then, a nurse walked in with a small tray of food, and her smile disappeared.
"Good evening," the woman said. She set the tray down on the table. "Would you like something to eat?" Anne shook her head furiously, her eyes widening, but regretted it as the world started spinning back and forth. Phillip and W.D. caught her as she fell backwards onto the bed and laid her gently onto the pillow. The nurse slipped out the door as Phillip looked at Anne, a cold feeling of dread creeping into his stomach as he put the pieces together.
"Anne?" he asked.
"I… I have anorexia." She looked up at Phillip, her eyes overflowing with tears, as Phillip sat there for a moment, stunned.
"Oh Anne. Why didn't you say anything to us?" he asked. Anne, misinterpreting his concern for anger, burst into tears. Phillip felt horrible. "Aww, I'm not mad. Please don't cry." He wrapped his arms around her, mindful of her injured leg, and tried to calm her down as W.D. sat down on the other side of the bed. Between the two of them, they managed to help her slow her breathing and calm down again.
"I'm s-s-sorry, Ph-Phil," she said, hiccuping. "I know I should've t-told you b-before, but I was t-too scared that you'd m-mock m-me or—or not believe me, or say it was stupid and it didn't matter, or—"
"Why would you think that?" Phillip interrupted, looking at her.
"I d-don't know."
"Anne, do you really think I'd do something like that?" Phillip asked incredulously.
"I d-don't know." She wiped a tear off her face. "I'm r-really sorry, Ph-Phil."
"Anne, you don't have anything to be sorry for." W.D.'s voice was calmer than one would expect for a few minutes after learning his sister had anorexia. "You just need to let us help you."
"I know, b-but I'm not sure if I c-can."
"Anne, you are the strongest person I know. We're going to help you, and you're going to get better." Phillip's voice was confident, but he wasn't sure if he would be much help. He had never had any friends when he was little, so being around people who believed in him and helping his friends was still new to him.
"You're going to be okay," W.D. stated. "You can't not be okay. It's going to be alright in the end." Anne gave him a ghost of a smile—not much, but it was progress.
"Do you want to try and eat something?" Phillip asked. Anne shook her head, more carefully this time, but she still felt a bit dizzy. "Are you sure? You'll feel better."
"I can't."
"Why not?" W.D. asked.
"I just—I'll get sick. Or I'll gain too much weight. Or I'll—"
"Anne, you're starving! You need to eat." W.D. stood up, pacing around the room. "You can't die on me, Anne. You have to eat." Anne's eyes filled with tears again as W.D.'s voice rose.
"I'm s-sorry, W.D. I'm so sorry." She shrank down into the pillows as W.D. realized how upset she was.
"Anne, I didn't mean to pressure or scare you," he said, realizing his mistake. "But you need to eat." Anne shook her head a third time.
"Please don't make me, W.D." Her voice was hoarse from crying, and W.D. almost gave in to her plea.
"Anne, you need food or you'll starve. Please, will you eat just a little?" Phillip asked. Anne looked at him, silently begging for him to agree. His eyes were determined, but compassionate, and she finally gave in, her resolve breaking just a bit as she saw W.D.'s and Phillip's hopeful faces.
"A little," she agreed. W.D. picked up the bowl of soup and sat down on the bed, holding the dish out to Anne. She took the soup with trembling hands and scooped up a tiny bit with the spoon.
"It's okay, Anne," he said. Anne shook her head, closing her eyes.
"I can't."
"Yes you can." Phillip's voice was soft, but still hadn't lost the determination it had a few minutes before. He gently took the bowl from Anne. She opened her eyes as he held up a small spoonful of soup. "It's okay. Just a few bites for now. Can you do that?" Anne took a deep breath, then nodded.
"I think so," she said. Phillip held the spoon to her mouth, and she accepted the tiny bite. As Phillip put the spoon back in the bowl, she looked back up, fear shining in her eyes.
"It's okay," W.D. reassured her. She carefully swallowed the soup, realizing how good it tasted, but reluctant to accept any more.
"You did great, Anne," Phillip told her. "Do you think you can eat one more bite?" She looked up at him, and Phillip thought for sure that she was going to say no, but she agreed.
"Just a little." Phillip and W.D. smiled, and Phillip got another spoonful of soup. Anne carefully ate the soup, smiling as Phillip nodded.
"I'm proud of you, Anne." W.D. looked at his little sister with absolute joy. "I know this is going to be hard, but you can do it, okay?"
"Okay."
A/N 2: I hope you enjoyed this! More soon! Please review and tell me what you think!