author note: thank you sooooo much for everyone how has stuck around to read this story. I have but in over a month of work into this, with all of my heart and soul. Please favorite me or this story so I know that you enjoy it. IMPORTANT NOTE: THE NEXT CHAPTERS WILL HAVE MENTIONS AND DISCUSSION OF EATING DISORDERS. IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE, PLEASE STOP HERE AND WAIT FOR THE NEXT ONE. P.S. sorry not sorry Emmett is my favorite I made him single on purpose for plot purposes.
I had a horrible nightmare that night of being abducted by three people in black cloaks. I startle myself awake as soon as I dream about being snatched painfully in the back. I instinctively jump to my feet, quickly realizing that this was a dream and that I am not in any real danger. My heart is racing in my chest.
My light switches on and Esme stands in the doorway. This surprises me even more and I grab my chest with my right hand and spin around, freezing.
"Alex, are you ok?" she asks.
I nod without turning around, which is quite rude of me, but I'm too vulnerable to make eye contact.
"Alex, look at me," Carlisle's voice scares me from behind.
I rush to bury my face in my arms. My mind is racing with my heart but no thoughts come through. I'm trying to process everything and I'm not convinced that I'm safe. I shut my eyes to block everything out.
Time seems to slow down and my teeth chatter. I feel ultra-sensitive and reactive to everything. And I'm angry with myself. Stop acting like this. You are so disrespectful, you can't make it better even with apologizing. Stop chattering your teeth! You're fine, just breath and calm down. You're so dramatic, they're judging you and think you're a burden.
I feel a cold hand on my head, right on top, which for some reason doesn't feel threatening. I open my eyes and see Carlisle standing in front of me. I release my hands and gently collide into his chest, hurting my own in the process. I wrap my arms around him and hold my breath, expecting something unpleasant to happen, because that's how I know to protect myself- to await danger.
Carlisle hugs me back, holding me close. And I hold my breath until I can no longer, releasing it harshly and staggering my breath back in, trying to control it as to not be loud or harsh. Its really hard because my heart is still racing from panic and my ribs, which ultimately hold my lungs, hurt.
"Keep breathing," he says.
I nod my head quickly and continue to clamp on.
What feels like minutes go by, and Carlisle just continues to stand still with me holding on. I can't see or hear anyone else in the room, including Esme. I'm trying so hard to focus on grounding myself with breathing and reassuring myself, but anxiety kicks in where I'm overly worried about what others are thinking about me and whether I'm in the way.
"Alex, sweetheart?" Esme asks. Yes? I want to respond.
I panic in my head for what feels like too long about how to respond. It feels like several minutes before I lift my head and open my tear-stained eyes. "I'm sorry," I answer sincerely. I'm sorry for taking so long to respond. I'm sorry for hugging you, Carlisle, without permission. I'm sorry for getting hurt and putting this burden on you. I'm sorry I have a disability that has these embarrassing and inconvenient complications. I'm just sorry for anything and everything, I rehearse in my head.
Esme looks at me in such an empathetic way, one would think she has the powers of empathic reading like Jasper. But its not powers, its motherly love. She gives off this concerned expression with her eyebrows shifting together and eyes widening.
I turn my head back into Carlisle's chest and take some more breaths. I'm almost waiting for him to let go when he's had enough. If I was holding someone who needed it, I'd personally stand until my legs gave out, but I'm not like other people- I'm so much more sensitive and empathetic.
I begin to shiver and my teeth chatter from a combination of anxiety and cold. I'm making my own situation worse by worrying excessively about what Carlisle and Esme and the others in the house who may or may not be able to hear me, are thinking about me and whether their view of me is now negative.
Carlisle attempts to comfort me with gently petting my back vertically. I force my jaw to stop but my own shivering continues. My knees begin to shake and I feel like I need to sit down. Lol girl that's not happening that easy, my anxious voice tells me.
I feel so unstable I begin to step back to catch my balance. "Alex?" Carlisle asks, worried. I look him straight in the eyes with a worried face.
"Esme, catch her," he orders calmly.
Esme holds me and I catch my feet under myself.
"Alex?" she asks.
I feel internal pain when I go mute from panic because I know how important it is to communicate, but I need to be alone in my world to process things through. Its a very difficult dilemma, pretty much.
Esme lays me down in bed and covers me with the comforter. I turn on my side and curl up into a tight fetal position with my back to Carlisle and Esme.
"Call Jasper?" Esme whispers, no doubt to her husband.
I feel Esme rest her weight on the edge of the bed, carefully as to not disturb me. I have no intention to fall asleep right this instant. I just want to feel safe and secure. And to make my heart rate go down to normal. My eyes are closed to block the world out.
"You don't have to deal with this alone," Jasper says. I open my eyes slowly and see him in front of me.
I nod to at least acknowledge what he's said.
"If you weren't immune to my powers I'd help you feel calm, but I can't. Can I help somehow else?" he asks.
I shake my head and close my eyes again.
"I'm not sure what to tell you. She's afraid and embarrassed," I hear him say quietly outside of the room.
"Thank you, Jazz," Esme says, exhaling.
I honestly want comfort without being asked to talk about what it is that is bothering me. I feel like most people have an instinct to try to fix problems rather than help the person with the consequences of the problem first.
Esme and Carlisle walk back in, and I feel their weight beside me on the mattress.
"Just know we're here for you. We won't leave unless you ask us to," Carlisle says.
I nod and bury my face into the bed, beginning to heave with tears. Eventually, I cry myself to sleep.
"Alex, sweetie?" Esme calls in a whisper.
I lift my head and open my eyes, which have crusted with tears and mucus.
"Are you ok?" she asks.
I nod, knowing well that I felt like I got no actual sleep. "What a nightmare last night was," I say.
"You gave us a bit of a scare," she says.
"I go mute during panic attacks. I'm sorry I didn't warn you sooner," I answer.
She looks at my sympathetically. "Its alright. Carlisle and I watched over you," she reassures.
"I'm sorry," I apologize again.
Esme walks to me with extended arms, so I give her a hug. "Its alright. Would it be helpful to talk about what upset you?" she asks.
"I had a bad dream of being taken," I answer.
"Oh sweetie, I'm sorry," she says.
"It wasn't being taken that was upsetting, it was being overpowered," I explain.
"We are making sure that doesn't happen," Esme reassures.
"I wish you didn't have to," I say.
"So you've said. Its our choice, and we want to," she says.
Carlisle walks in with a friendly smile on his face. "Good morning, or really, afternoon," he says.
I rush to look at my phone's clock. 12:24 pm. I've missed this morning's class. "Shit," I mutter.
"Its all good, I wrote your instructor an email that you're still out sick and sent a doctor's note written by me," he says.
"Thank you. I missed my alarm, clearly," I thank.
"Well, not really. We turned it off," Esme answers.
"I have things to do," I argue.
"We won't stop you. I would really like to keep you here, but you do what you have to," Carlisle says.
"I need to go back home for a bit," I say.
"Its not safe yet," Esme responds.
"I'll be back later tonight," I say.
"Ok. Can Emmett stay near you?" she asks.
"I actually need my space right now," I answer assertively.
"That's perfectly alright. We just don't want you to get hurt," Carlisle says.
"Thank you for looking out for me," I thank again.
"You're welcome, Alex. Any time," he answers.
I get dressed, pack my bag with what I need for the day, take Alaska, and drive sixteen miles back to my rental house in town. I feel afraid of the Volturi, of hurting myself, of having my reputation ruined from being 'out of town' for over a week.
I walk inside and Alaska runs to go say hi to Sam, my roommate who lives on the bottom level with me. "Hey, how was California?" he asks.
"Hot," I answer, semi-truthfully. California is always hot. "Hey, so I have a bunch of clients scheduled, but I'll be taking Alaska with me at night. I'm still in Laramie, but on a ranch," I explain.
"That sounds fun! Hey, could you venmo me for utilities?" he asks.
"Yea, absolutely. Can you text me the number and I'll send it right now," I answer.
"Sure, no problem. George moved out, by the way. He's paying rent until we get another roommate," he says.
"No shit, he was talking about it for a while," I answer. "I know I've been gone for a bit. I'll clean the floors and bathroom today," I add.
"Sounds good. I cleaned the kitchen yesterday," he says, and walks back to his room.
I open the door to my bedroom and instantly grab my vacuum. I kick my slippers out of the way to get to the floor, and my awesome new Shark vacuum picks up the pieces of Alaska's fur. Then I light my candle, open the window, and begin wiping down my room with my disinfectant spray that also smells like fresh lemon zest. I hope you realize you're compensating for your anxiety with compulsions, right? I tell myself. I don't really care right now. I'm doing what I need to do to feel in control. I need to clean everything perfectly and then sit down and write to my clients individually to tell them I'm alright and back. I need to call my parents just to make sure they're ok. I need to do classwork. Agh! Le internal screaming.
I wipe down everything, including the walls and baseboards, strip my bed sheets and throw them all in my hamper before taking them downstairs to go wash. Even though I was only gone for a bit over a week, my compulsive brain imagines everything to be covered with dust and must be cleaned as if I had abandoned my room for months.
I sit on my mattress and sit down to write emails and make calls and work on my thesis. Hours go by and I notice this uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. Girl, you're hungry.
Right. Shit, all the food in my fridge has gone bad! I force myself to face my discomfort and open the containers of spoiled soup and meat with rice. After tossing everything and putting the bowls in the sink to soak, I make myself a sandwich. I feel this craving for ice cream, which I have in the freezer. I have a few spoonfuls before putting it back. My stomach feels full from food, but mostly with anxiety.
I put my hair in a bun, go into the bathroom, and make myself choke on my fingers. Leaning over the toilet hurts like a bitch with my ribs, but I just have to get the food out. I need to reverse what I did. It comes out so painlessly but I'm terrified of pain. Im terrified of going too far. Inhaling the scent of puke makes me gag again, which I stop. I stand up and go to brush my teeth, making sure to pay close attention to my molars. I take a deep breath before I open the door up, expecting Alaska to be right there, waiting for me.
A stranger stands in Alaska's place. Alice. My heart drops.
"Are you going to explain what you just did?" she asks me.
"Did what?" I ask dumbly.
Alice takes me by the hand and begins to walk me to her car outside, black SUV crossover.
I stop in my tracks. "I'm not going to let you do this," I assert.
"I'm taking you to Carlisle," she explains, not letting go of my hand.
"You don't need to," I say calmly.
"He needs to know," she says.
"Alice, he doesn't. Carlisle isn't my doctor and I don't really understand why he jumps into that role outside of work," I answer.
"Because he loves his job and he sees you as part of the family. Its his choice after all," she defends.
"Alice, I need to be alone," I say.
"No, its the opposite of what you need. You came home so you could be destructive to cope with your feelings," she answers.
"I want to be alone," I argue.
"I'm here now, so there," she says.
I start to cry. Alice lets go of my hand and I walk back inside. I go to my room and sit down on my bare mattress. Alice follows me.
"Where is your bedding?" she asks.
"In the wash," I answer.
"Do you have spare blankets?" she asks.
I stand up without answering and go to my box with a crocheted blanket my ex gave me for Valentine's day. I spread it on the mattress.
I sit down on it and tuck my knees into my chest. Alice sits down beside me, and I lay my head in her lap. "What did you see?" I ask.
"That I'd call Carlisle all panicked. I couldn't see why, but I had a hunch it was about you," she answers.
"Well have you?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "No," she answers.
"I'm just really, really afraid," I confess.
Alice strokes my head. "I know, Alex. And I'm sorry. I heard you purge," she says.
"Its my way of self-harm," I answer.
"You're scared, aren't you?" she asks.
"I'm afraid of everything. I'm afraid of you too, to a degree," I answer.
"What can we do to help?" she asks.
"Learn what my powers are, get the Volturi to leave you and I alone forever, make reparations with the tribe, get my thesis done and graduated. I can go on," I answer.
"A lot of it is just not knowing, isn't it?" she asks.
"A part of it. But mostly its knowing that I have no control," I answer. "That's why I do what I do. Its something I can control," I answer.
Alice doesn't respond, and instead takes her phone out of her pocket. I don't question her.
"Hi Carlisle, I have a question. What should a person do after they've purged on purpose?" she asks.
I sit up and give her a disappointed look. How dare you, Alice?
"Thank you, love you. Bye," she says after listening for a second.
"Let's go get you an electrolyte drink," she says.
"I keep some in the fridge," I answer.
Alice stands up. "What does it look like?" she asks.
"I'll go get it. I'm just fine. I do this once in a while," I answer.
"That doesn't help your case," Alice says.
"I'm not having a day in court. If you begin to shame me for my disorder then I'll just push you away," I answer.
Alice's face softens. "That's not my intention. Esme asked me to follow you to make sure you're safe and alright since I can't see your future," she says.
I nod and blink hard, causing tears to run down my face. I go to the fridge and take out my half-drunken electrolyte water. I take a few sips and put it back.
"I don't think that's enough," Alice says.
"I have water," I explain.
She nods. "Alex, how long have you been bulimic?" she asks.
"Never. I end up purging once in a while when things just get really bad," I answer.
"Why is right now really bad for you?" she asks.
"My whole world got flipped upside down, and I'm in the life stage where I'm figuring myself out, trying to find love and belonging," I answer.
"How are you going to deal with it without hurting yourself?" she asks.
"My therapist would say radical acceptance. To hold onto my support system and reassure myself that I'm going to be ok," I answer.
"That all sounds like good advice," she says. "Would you please come with me to the house?" she asks.
"I don't really want to, Alice. I just want to be home for a little bit," I answer.
"Alex, you came home and started to cope unhealthily," she argues.
"It all built up. You know I can't be totally relaxed until I know all of your ways and patterns," I rebut.
"I'll give you that," she says.
"But it is nice to be around you all. I'm a pretty lonely person," I give in.
"We are a fun family. Unusual, but we've lived like this for almost a century," she says.
I make out a small grin. "You realize how hilarious that sounds to me, right?" I ask.
She responds with a nod and grin. "Please come with me," she asks again.
"Alright, Alice. You're right, I shouldn't be alone," I answer.
Alice drives me back, Alaska chilling in the back seat. We don't speak at all. I feel like a punished child, and so I shut down. Alice puts her hand in mine as she drives, speeding like an out-of-stater. On the left-turn with no center median to get to the homestead, I tighten up every single muscle as Alice jerks the car in front of a semi. I'm really sensitive to everything, and Alice's driving feels like a reflection on her feelings towards me. I'm reassuring myself that she's not upset, but I can't know for sure until I've asked.
"Alice?" I whisper, hoping she won't hear me.
"Hmm?" she answers. Darn.
"Are you angry?" I ask nervously.
"No, honey," she answers sweetly. "I know you have a traumatic past and you're waiting for us to hurt you. We won't hurt you," she says.
"Thank you," I say.
She turns her head and gives me a reassuring smile.
She parks in the garage and I feel fearful. I must now face Esme, or Carlisle, or both. And based on what I know, they know everything about everyone. I put Alaska in the backyard, and leave her food and her toys.
Esme and Carlisle greet us right as we walk in. "I made you lunch," Esme says.
I smile nervously. "Thank you, but I already ate," I say. I hate declining hospitality.
Alice gestures to Carlisle and they step aside. I try to catch her eyes to communicate that I think I know what she's doing and to please not.
Esme takes me by the hand and walks me to the balcony. She sits down on a swing and gestures for me to sit beside her. "Alex, I am here for you," she starts.
"Hovering makes it worse, Esme. I can't talk about it and feel better," I answer.
"Alex, it would help us if we knew what is it that's bothering you. I won't try to fix your problems, but just being aware of what is causing you distress helps us know what is going on," she says.
"I'm just really scared. I'm afraid of being hurt by the Volturi, I'm afraid of disappointing the Ute if I decide I want to be changed. I'm afraid of my future and what it means for me now that I know I'm a demi-spirit. Sadly, my thesis is the last thing I'm worried about," I explain.
"Its a lot on your plate. And Alex, we are trying to ease a little off your plate by offering you protection and a place in the coven. We are doing it because we love you and care about you. Our love is unconditional," Esme reassures.
"I'm not used to unconditional love. I assume that there is self-interest involved and love is transactional," I say.
"Its not, not in our family. We are such an untraditional unit, but we operate as a family," she explains.
I lean in for a hug. "Thank you, Esme. I really appreciate you, very much," I tell her.
"You're most welcome," she replies.
Carlisle opens the sliding door and pokes his head through. "Alex, can you come with me? I want to talk to you," he asks.
I grab on to Esme tighter. I can come, but I don't really want to because I'm afraid of what you want to talk about.
Carlisle steps outside and sits beside me, wedging me between Esme and himself. We sit in silence for a moment, me still holding onto Esme stiffly. I'm on high alert for changes on body language.
"Alex, you have selective mutism, don't you?" Carlisle asks. I jump at the sound of his voice, exhaling harshly as soon as I realize what I've done.
"Yes," I mutter.
"And obsessive compulsive behavior," he adds.
"Yes," I repeat.
"Do you self-harm in any other way other than purging?" he asks.
"Restricting and over exercising," I answer through Esme's body.
"How long has that been going on?" he asks.
"Since I left home. Purging is rather recent," I answer.
"Have you been taking precautions to avoid long term damage?" he asks.
I shrug my shoulders. "I brush my teeth and don't purge regularly," I answer.
"I mean after purging. Do you replenish with fluids?" he asks.
"Yes," I answer.
"Alex, I need to ask you. Are you afraid we'll hurt you?" he asks.
I pause for a moment, then nod slowly. "I know its irrational," I whisper.
"Its not, knowing even a little bit of your history. Please understand that we aren't hovering to hurt you," he says.
I don't respond. I'm not sure how to.
"I know it feels like it. I'm sure you know what its like to be betrayed, and that's not going to happen here," he adds.
Esme rubs my back and the top of my head. I squeeze her tightly.
"Alex, you're afraid of me for some reason," Carlisle says.
This time I let go and look at him. Yes, I'm absolutely terrified of male authority figures.
"No," I lie right through my teeth.
He tilts his head. "Yes, clearly. Avoiding eye contact and talking to me," he says.
"Okay, I'm afraid of male authority figures," I confess, looking him dead in the eyes.
He smiles. "Ok, that makes sense now. I'm sorry I'm me," he says sarcastically, but in a light-hearted way that it easily detectable.
"I go into hypersensitive mode to try to protect myself from getting hurt. The awful part about being an abuse survivor is you can't trust, even when you're being nice to. I'm waiting for you to flip," I say, very vulnerably.
"Anything we can do?" Esme asks.
I shake my head gently. "Just give me time, if you can," I answer.
"I think that's the least you could ask of us," she says.
I turn to Carlisle. "I have mad respect for you. I apologize if I've come off as alienated," I say.
Carlisle invites me for a hug, which I accept. "You're perfectly alright. You're very aware of your surroundings and you never do things out of spite or ill-intention," he reassures. "Your PTSD is quite severe and complex. Would you be interested in talking with a colleague of mine?" he asks.
I let go from the hug so I can make eye contact. "The psychiatrist at the hospital?" I ask.
"Mhm," he answers.
"He doesn't do outpatient," I say.
"Not for just anyone, no," he chuckles. "Just a consult," he says.
"I'm open to it, thank you," I answer.
"You're weaning off now, right?" he asks.
I nod. "Effexor is really hard to stop," I answer.
"And you've been on how many drugs?" he asks.
"I lost count after about eight," I answer. "Mood stabilizers, SSRI's, SNRI's, anti-anxiety, atypical antipsychotics, anti-convulsive. Anything that was affordable, wasn't a benzo, and didn't promote weight gain," I add.
"You're treatment resistant, right?" he asks.
I nod. "Billy was right," I answer.
"Then maybe there is no use going to modern medicine," Carlisle says.
I shrug my shoulders. "Honestly if meds help me function somewhat normally, then that's a win," I say.
"How are you with that? The functioning?" he asks.
"Other than last night getting me all freaked out, just fine. I've been going about my days doing my work and such. I caught up on housework but it turned into an OCD ritual," I answer.
"That's your PTSD, Alex," he says.
I nod. "I don't want to talk about it any more," I ask.
"Of course. Emmett's on his way home now. Jasper and Rose should be too. I don't know where Edward is today," Carlisle answers.
"He went hunting again," Esme answers.
"Again?" I ask. They just went a few days ago.
"Edward is having a harder time keeping his hunger under control, so he goes hunting to make sure he's really full, and thus, less wild for human blood," she explains.
"What is my scent like to vampires?" I ask.
"Really fresh and sweet," Carlisle answers.
Alice jumps down from the roof onto the balcony. Esme and Carlisle hide me behind them.
"Alice, you can't do that around Alex," Carlisle says strictly. I'm holding my breath as my heart jumps.
"Sorry, Alex," Alice apologizes. "Emmet's waiting for you," she says. Carlisle and Esme sit a little further from me to give me room.
"Waiting for what?" I ask.
"To see you," she answers.
"Okay, I can do that," I say.
"Before you go, can I make you some food?" Esme asks.
I shake my head. "No thank you," I answer.
"Alex, we're here for you," Carlisle says.
"I know, and I really appreciate you. Thank you," I answer, and walk away with Alice.
Emmett gives me a big embrace when he sees me by his room, which is just a huge bean bag and a tv with a gaming console and a bunch of DVD's. "Heard you had a rough day," he says.
"Yea. Alice said you want to talk to me," I answer.
"I do, just not like that. Just to chill," he says.
"Okay. I don't have any obligations for the rest of today. How was the shop?" I ask.
"Some idiot tried his best to work on his engine but messed it badly so I'll end up rebuilding it tonight," he answers.
"Are you going to use vampire speed to do that?" I ask.
"You bet," he answers. "What do you want to do?" he asks.
"I'm really depressed right now, so what I want to do isn't healthy," I answer.
"Excuse me?" Carlisle shouts somewhere in the house. He appears next to me by the time I exhale.
I ball up in my seat. The angry patriarch has appeared.
"Alex, I'm sorry for eavesdropping. What is going on?" he asks.
"Nothing," I answer.
"You can't fool me," he says.
"Carlisle, you're gonna make her go mute, and then you definitely won't get anything," Emmett steps in.
"I want to self-harm, ok?" I ask rhetorically.
"I hear you, but no, its not ok," Carlisle answers.
"What I want to do and what I am going to do are different things," I say in my defense.
"Carlisle, please. Go," Emmett asks. Carlisle disappears in a quick second. "Netflix and actual chilling?" he asks.
"Sounds brilliant," I answer.
Emmet and I watch a few episodes of this comedy sit-com we both really enjoy, during which Emmett holds me next to him in an awkward cuddle position, and Carlisle comes over and asks to borrow me so he can check on my ribs and sutures. I follow him upstairs to his office. He closes the door behind us.
"How are your ribs feeling?" he asks.
"Sore, but I'm really getting used to it," I answer.
"I'm going to take the bandage off to check your sutures and then rewrap them, ok?" he asks.
"Sure thing," I reply.
Carlisle has me lift my arms up so he can slip my t-shirt off and take the bandage off.
"How are you really doing?" he asks, making eye contact with me for a good second as he works.
"How much would you like to know?" I answer.
Carlisle sighs. "As much as you are comfortable sharing," he says.
"You don't need to Baker Act me," I answer.
He chuckles. "I wasn't really considering it for you. Psych wards aren't the most affective when you can have 24/7 supervision from loving vampires," he says.
"The last thing that is helpful for me is being controlled. That's a recipe on how to get me to shut down," I answer.
"That's not the plan, sweetheart. We are here for you for anything you need. We aren't going to supervise you every second of the day," he says.
"Thank you, really," I thank.
He smiles as he begins to wrap me back up. "You're welcome, Alex. Your sutures are healing well, I should take the stitches out in a few days," he answers.
"Do the screws stay in forever?" I ask.
"Yes, these do," he answers. "Alex, what's your treatment plan right now?" he asks.
"Weaning off medication, so relying much more on therapy," I answer.
"Are you able to stay in touch with your therapist?" he asks.
"Yes, I email her every day instead of sessions. This is the first time I've actually kept really important information from her," I answer.
"Because we're vampires?" he asks.
I nod. "And I'm a demi-spirit. I'm pretty sure I'd fall quickly in the delusional category and she'd have me medicated on anti-psychotics," I answer.
"Just remember I'm here to listen if you need it. I won't think you're delusion for talking about vampires and spirit wolves," he says.
I chuckle. "I'd be concerned if you did," I joke.
Carlisle tapes the bandage and I put my arms down. "Do you have suicidal ideation?" he asks.
"Yes," I answer. I'm sure everyone does.
"But you've never acted on it, right?" he asks.
"No, I'm terrified to," I answer.
"But with self-harm you're a little more willing," he states.
"Mhm. It takes a lot for me to give in. I convince myself that I deserve it and it will make me feel better. Unfortunately very few methods actually achieve it. Disordered eating is the only one that really works on me," I explain.
"I theorize that your parents used food control," he says.
"Your theory is correct," I answer.
"What would be helpful for you when you're here? Of course you know that we don't eat, but Esme finds pleasure in feeding others, usually my coworkers," he asks.
"To be very honest, staying away from food topics and food is the best for me. I feel very uncomfortable eating in front of others, especially if they aren't eating with me. I like to prepare my own food too. I've been doing really well with recovery. I eat pretty much everything, but I have slip-ups every so often," I answer.
"That's really helpful to know, Alex. The last thing we want you to do is relapse and feel trapped. I won't lie, I was very worried when you said that what you want to do isn't healthy, because the first thing that came to mind was self-harm or suicide," he explains.
"I understand. And I'm sorry," I apologize.
"No, don't be. Thank you for being open about it," he says.
"I usually end up masking my vulnerabilities with humor. Ironically, people find me decently funny for that reason," I joke.
"That's quite common," he answers. "Would you like a hug?" he asks.
I smile. "Always. You don't even have to ask," I answer as he gives me a quick, but solid, embrace.